Eric Vincent - No-Ip.com

Arlette’s saga, volume 1
and that gave a mix of pleasure and relief to the intended mum. Arlette wanted to know.
She stopped her lover, asked him to get out and turned herself. She gave him notice to
copy the show on television. He made to slip his penis in the narrow duct as it was a
special day (a little bit when we wore the beautiful clothes, for the going out of the
Sunday, except that here, his sex had forgotten to dress itself !).
He pushed slowly, caressing and splitting her beautiful both apples of love. Combining
the sight of the pregnant woman and her man with the sexual act which joined them, they
didn't last to explode of pleasure, fusing their bodies in the same time, proving one more
time that there couldn't have more osmosis in the world than between these both
persons. The second ejaculation weakened him but he wanted to stay in her, to respect
the pleasure that his lovely accomplice gave him. He liked to prolong the feelings with
sweetness, tenderness and love. For him, a man in love could be recognized by the
delicacy not to sleep or to escape secretly, after the sexual act.
Moreover, the act indeed didn't interest him so much, except to bring thousand and one
feelings to his partner. No, the most important thing, that was the present moment : to
stay in her while moving lightly, with a way nearly imperceptible, saturating her with sweet
kisses in the neck, nibbling the ears, the shoulders, making slip his lips on the back and
above all, primeval for him, expressing his thoughts by chosen words, with the most
tender form as possible, laid in the ears. He wanted that she knows his feelings at every
moment, that she knows he was crazy of their complicity without flaw. A man fully fallen
in love and well brought up, respectful of his woman, had to do so much. Otherwise, for
Eric, this kind of man belonged to the category of boors, a sort of porcine family to
whom, alas, three time alas, the masculine race belonged in a large majority. That's the
reason why that she felt an intense pleasure in her heart more important than an orgasm,
when he whispered tender words close to Arlette.
*
* *
Arlette didn't have any problem to sleep in the ivory satin's sheets. Near him, she felt
curiously appeased, calm and serene. He emitted some favorable waves that, if the slogan
wouldn't have been a registered trademark of Jacques Séguéla in 1981 for a president of
the French republic, looked like the quiet strength. He reinsured her. However, she didn't
ignore that he could be extremely fragile, even vulnerable. Emotion was written in his
genes and sometimes, he couldn't to hold it. Really obsessed by the worry of perfection,
he let himself down to the full discouragement, to the tears if he missed an aim or if he
thought having put his foot in it. What he hated most, was to tell some unintentionally
cutting words. The, he hated himself, wanted to cut off his tongue to punish himself,
wanted to disappear under tons of stones thrown to his face to make him pay for his
lapses of language. He was pitiless towards himself because he couldn't bare the faintest
negligence from him, the negligence being the first cause of divorce, especially his one.
Somebody knocked at the door of the bedroom. The master of the place was waked up
and authorized to enter. A young chambermaid appeared, pushing a wag made of rattan :
the breakfast ! She drew the curtains and the sunny light entered suddenly in the room.
The room was spacious and had got a rich decoration. The last evening, Arlette didn't
have time to admire the furniture, the ceilings with beautiful cornices and a colored
Venetian luster. Easy to understand : the man, really in form, had rushed to her as a
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