"I'm sorry, Grace," he repeated, looking down in a mute appeal for forgiveness.

She loved him. She loved him. That was all that mattered. What difference did one or two nights make. She closed her eyes and nodded, then said quietly, "It's all right, darling."

Stan made his prick jerk inside her rapidly two or three times. She bore it submissively, shutting off the tortured nerve endings down there, trying to ignore the pain, wanting happiness, wanting it to feel as beautiful and as wonderful as she had heard it would be.

Slowly, gently now, he began stroking in and out of her. It was painful, but not as much as before. It seemed to take an eternity, but then within seconds she felt his pace increase and his breathing becoming rapid and ragged. She forced herself to grind her pelvis up and to meet his powerful thrusts, falsifying an enthusiasm she did not feel. And abruptly she felt the pressure increase in her already stretched beyond capacity vagina as the mushroom head of his hardened prick ballooned in size. "I'm cumming," he groaned. "Oh, Jesus… I'm cumming."

"Yes darling," she crooned seductively, wanting it to end as soon as possible. "Cum, cum up in me now."

She felt the first hot impatient spurts of his semen wildly spewing out into her womb. Then he collapsed atop her. Moments later, he had lifted his head and asked, "Did you… too?"

She lied and nodded her head. Then, weeping again, put her arms around his chest, pulled his sperm drained body back down against hers, and stared up at the black limbs of the trees gently moving back and forth in the soft night sky…