After our amazing and wonderful seven-hour sex marathon on Monday, No. 10, 2008, Eric – my “Cyrano” – and I would not have another chance for an all-day hookup in a motel room for nearly another three weeks. Not until Friday, November 28, the day after the Thanksgiving holiday. That is not to say we had to wait three weeks to enjoy each other. We were still both commuting together into our respective jobs, by train every morning, and commuting home together every evening. That meant a half hour each morning and a half hour each evening to be in each other’s arms, kissing, and when nobody was looking, slipping a hand down each other’s pants and feeling how much we turned each other on.

Sometimes, we would leave home a little early so we would have time to go somewhere where we could and did make love. Or meet-up at lunch time for a nooner.

We obviously couldn’t make love at either of our homes, with spouses and nosy neighbors to find out about us. And these quickies were not worth the expense of booking a motel room on our meager salaries—motels for when we had hours and hours to be together.

But we had found three favorite places where we could make love, and we managed to do that about two or three times in an average week.

The first spot was The Pond, as we called it. It was a small pond in a remote corner of a vast park at the edge of town, a park easily reached by public transit. The pond was surrounded on three sides by a low but opaque wall, with a gate at one end. Hardly anyone ever went there, so we could make love in this semi-public place, unnoticed by those enjoying the foot path maybe thirty feet away. The fourth side consisted of two rows of hedges, with a strip of grass about five feet wide by about twenty feet long, between the two hedges. We could not be seen, and as long as I controlled the volume on my contented purring, and he controlled the volume of his deep baritone moans, we would not be heard, either.

It was a relatively easy thing to open the gate, walk around the edge of the pond, climb over the first of the two hedges, and spread a blanket I would bring with me, on the small strip of grass. I would then lie down on the blanket, hike up my skirt, lovingly unzip my man, and invite my Cyrano to slide the hard steel of his fine sword into the happily yielding folds of my velvety soft sheath.

The second spot was a fire stairwell, placed between a shopping mall and the mall’s parking garage. The stairway was always open in case of emergencies, even when the mall itself was not yet open for the day. Early mornings in that stairwell, I could (and often did) suck him as much as I wanted to, which I loved to do. And he was free to eat me until I drowned him in my juices, a joy he never seem to tire of. I could lie back and his sword could stab me deeply and repeatedly, or I could impale myself on my Cyrano’s fine steel.

One time, a security guard came to investigate when our sexual noises became a bit loud, and we barely got dressed and exited the stairwell before the guard could catch us in flagrante delicto.

The third spot was along a riverbank. Bushes and trees separated us from nearby hiking trails, and from boats on the river. But from the trails and from the river, people could detect our movement in the bushes and trees, and they could tell we were making love, although they could not discern our naked bodies in any great detail. This was by far the riskiest, the naughtiest, the most public of our three favorite public places to make love.

And so, by such public devices, we were able to relieve our constant and very mutual horniness for each other, express our powerful love for each other in the best, funnest, most wonderful way ever invented to express that love, two or three times a week, until our next motel tryst, on November 28.

Eric and I both had November 27 off from work, Thanksgiving Day, but we had to spend that day with our respective families.

But Eric and I also had the Day After Thanksgiving off from our jobs, as a holiday.

Eric’s wife had to work that day, so that gave Eric the freedom to spend the entire day in a motel making love with me, as long as he was home before his wife returned from work that night.

My husband, Frank, didn’t have a job, so that was a potential problem. But he had announced that he planned to spend the whole day at his brother’s rural cabin, getting drunk. He wouldn’t be home until very late that night. That was fine by me. That would give me hours and hours to have my Eric fuck me deep and hard, over and over and over again! What mature, sexually healthy woman wouldn’t want to spend an entire day like that?

While November 28 couldn’t and didn’t rival our seven-hour sex marathon of three weeks earlier, and neither of us expected that it would, there was one special and magical thing that happened that day.

After fueling up on burgers and fries for energy, we went back to the same remote motel we had used so successfully on November 10. It was in a far-of suburb, almost to the edge of a rural area. No chance anyone we knew would see us there, arriving or leaving. While not the same room, it too was on the second floor.

I had worn a t-shirt this time, which Eric easily pulled-off over my head and up-raised arms. Paired with a very short pale-blue skirt, with a hemline at my thighs, barely below my naked bush. I was way too horny to want to waste time having Eric remove a bra and panties from me. No zip-up boots this time, either. Just simple flats that I could kick off in a fraction of a second. I wanted, I needed to be able to get naked very quickly, and for my Cyrano to sheath his mighty sword in me right away.

Eric had also dressed for me to be able to strip him quite quickly. A zip-up sweatshirt, one tug and his chest was bare. No belt on his jeans, which were rapidly unzipped and tossed on the floor. And sandals that he kicked off in no time flat.

We stood naked facing each other, our arms hugging tightly around each other, our mouths locked in a hungry tongue-kiss, his already-hard cock pressing tightly into my belly and against my bush.

I lay down on the bed, and Eric happily, eagerly dove face-first into my pussy. His deep, passionate kisses on my pussy lips quickly had me squirming and moaning. His cock was very hard and throbbing into the mattress, causing the whole bed to quake beneath us as he eagerly ate me.

I asked him to turn us into a 69 position, which we did very quickly. I kissed and licked his cock, while he kissed and licked my pussy lips.

“You make me ssssoooo hungry!” I moaned, swallowing his entire eight inches in one big gulp.

With a pussy-dampening baritone moan of “mmmmm!” Eric slid his tongue deep into my very horny pussy.

In mere seconds, we were both trembling mightily, and pouring come into each other’s mouth.

We got up and washed our faces and our genitals.

Eric put me on my back on the bed again, and again placed his head between my thighs.

He curled his right middle finger, sliding it deep inside my pussy, until he was massaging the soft moistness of my g-spot. He gently massaged each individual tiny bump there, until I was writhing and moaning.

Then he replaced his finger with his tongue, slowly and gently licking each little g-spot bump individually.

My moaning dissolved into my famous mewling kittenish purrs, the happy little purrs, of a very contented Kat, who now lay beneath this wonderful, loving man, he of great sexual mastery.

Eric must have concentrated all of his finger and tongue efforts on my g-spot for a good solid twenty minutes, never once straying from that spot. Until, with an all-over mighty shake of my entire body, and a nearly deafening moan, my g-spot burst forth into heavily flowing orgasm, onto his lips and tongue and fingers.

With a finger still on my spongy g-spot, which was still flowing in one long, endless orgasm, Eric now moved his kisses and licks to my clit. The hood had long since rolled back in my excitement, and he was free to suck on it. He then began his wonderfully gentle nibbles on my clit, and it never takes more than a few such nibbles before my clit reaches orgasm.

As my girl-come slowly and thickly oozed from my clit, like the flow of lava that’s starting to cool, I realized that I was still pouring a thinner fluid endlessly out of my g-spot, too. An ocean pouring out of my g-spot, met by a mountain stream oozing from my clit.

I pulled Eric up, to lie on top of me. My arms and legs wrapped themselves tightly around him, and I kissed his mouth, hungrily, gratefully.

“You, sir,” I purred, “are no mere mortal, no mere Cyrano the skilled swordsman. You just made me come very hard from two different places at the same time! No man has ever done that to me. No mere man ever could! You’re no mere mortal. You’re a sexual GOD!”

Eric’s smile beamed proudly, lighting up his handsome face. “Have you ever been fucked by a god?” he laughed.

“Fuck me!” I moaned. “Fuck this mere unworthy mortal, oh Great God of Sex!”

Eric eased his enormous cock into me very slowly, as I eagerly and very lovingly stretched and stretched and stretched my pussy around him. The pace of his thrusts gradually sped-up, and each plunge would go deeper and deeper still. Every throb of his powerfully hard cock against my happily yielding clit, entering and exiting, silently but loudly declared, “I Love You!”

I came, he thrusted, I came again, he drew back. He slammed himself back into me, as he came and came and came. I trembled and I moaned, and my mind raced. “This sexual god loves me. ME! And only me! I’m the luckiest woman in the world!”

His spent cock stayed in my pussy, gently throbbing every time my contracting pussy squeezed him. Stray drops continued to dribble out of him and deep into me, as my arms and legs hugged him tight, and we tongue-kissed hungrily.

We slept like that for maybe twenty minutes, then got up and showered together, loving the touch of soapy fingers on each other. And the gentleness of toweling each other dry afterward.

Then he sat in the motel room arm chair, where I rode him cowgirl, and reverse cowgirl too. Yeeeee-ha!!!

He sat me in the chair, and with my legs over his shoulders, he ate me, licking from inner walls to g-spot to clit and back again. He kept that up for maybe twenty minutes until, trembling, I came very hard into his mouth and onto his tongue.

I turned around in the chair, and he fucked me, standing as I knelt on all fours, giving me doggy style for what seemed like half an hour. Until I came again, thoroughly drenching his deeply buried cock.

He pulled out from the back side of my pussy. But before I could get up off the chair, my Cyrano moved his cock down just a couple of inches. His long, slender fingers delicately stretched my ass open, and he began to slowly, gently plunge his enormous hard sword into a very different sheath than usual. I pushed back hard against him. We were fucking hard like that, him against me and me against him, for only a few minutes, before he throbbed mightily. I well knew what his intensely powerful throb meant, and as I expected, a few seconds later he was exploding warm, thick come, deep into my anus, and I was purring and purring, so loudly, so happily.

“You ARE a sex god!” I purred. “And that makes me the luckiest woman on earth!”

We kissed for the longest time, hugging, his cock gently throbbing, my clit rhythmically pulsating, before we decided to take another shower. Soaping each other all over led to a standing face-to-face fuck, my hand guiding his beautiful hard-on to exactly the places I wanted and needed his cock to touch, deep inside my hungry pussy.

Then back to the bed for a 69, me on top. As I sucked him, his magical tongue once more worked my g-spot into orgasmic frenzy, before nibbling my clit into coming again, too. While my g-spot was in endless orgasm, and while my clit began flowing slowly, thickly, hotly, Eric’s enormous cock exploded a powerful splatter of his come, hard against the back of my throat. I happily swallowed down every tasty drop.

Two people, but three separate orgasms, occurring on that bed all at the same time.

“Mmm!” I purred happily. “You truly are a sex god! You’re MY sex god!”

I lay back and had Eric fuck me missionary style, one last time, before we would both have to dress and go home.

After we came at the same time, my clit and his cock, he stayed in me for the longest time. Eric throbbing in me, me contracting around him, arms and legs entwined around each other, and locked in a soft, loving kiss. All punctuated by occasional duets of lyrics from our special song, Diana Krall’s “The Look of Love is in Your Eyes.”

We must have stayed like that for a good half hour, before dressing each other, each item of returned clothing being cause to kiss again.

Then back to our respective homes, with the next holiday already planned: December 26, the day after Christmas.

That night, I emailed Eric that he had given me much to be thankful for this Day After Thanksgiving, and how much I appreciate him, more than I can ever say. I put plenty of “I Love You’s” in that message, too.

Eric’s lengthy reply also included several “I Love You’s” peppered throughout his message. He again spoke of steel-hard swords in velvety soft, gently yielding sheaths.

I had to laugh at how he signed the end of his email message: “From Your Cyrano, The Love God.”

I fell asleep smiling and purring at the happy memories of that day, and of our unforgettable seven-hour sex marathon just three weeks earlier. I was in love, deeply in lust. My pussy was very full of his come, and I felt very happy; in fact, I had never felt happier.

We would spend a few more sex holidays together: Xmas Eve, day after New Year, President’s Day, day after Valentine’s Day.

Little did we know then, that a few months later, life would conspire to split us up and end our joy, our happiness, forever. But the love we felt (and still feel) for each other will never, can never die, even though we have been apart these seven years now. In our memories, in our hearts, the love and the lust still glow brightly. And for both of us, that has to be enough.

But those last few holidays together, during our all-too-brief affair of 2008-2009, and the ugly and painful and horrible dissolution of our relationship (but not of our love, never of our love), are subjects for additional chapters, to be written at a later date.