Brittany in the Spring - part 2
I lay contentedly in the arms of my lover, the sweat cooling on my skin, appreciating how he pulled me close, hand splayed between my shoulder blades, fingers gently stroking my hip, face buried in my hair as he breathed me in with a contented sigh. A little answering murmur from me and we drifted in sleep. When I woke up a little while later, he was not in bed, but I could hear him in the bathroom. Slowly and sleepily I got up, sticky wet residue coating my thighs and pussy as I padded nakedly toward the noises, passing my thoughtfully arranged suitcase as I went. He was so very attentive to details, this lover of mine. He paid attention to the little things which made my affection for him soar into something I wasn’t quite ready to name yet. You may be attracted to the measure of someone's soul, but it is the measure of their habits that determine whether the relationship is sustainable. He had impeccable habits. Neat, but not fussy, focused but not rigid, and oh was he a sensuous b**sty. I loved that we shared so many delicious interests and likes; food, wine, art, architecture, culture, books, dance, writing, and sex -- oh the sex. Middle age is the time for the best sex and for the wellspring of wants to be realized, a feast for the body and heart meant to be savored, and the desire I felt for him? Well...
I want to taste, taste, taste you.
Each drop of your words,
the essence of your mind,
each little glance and smile of you... let me lick it up,
let me savour it on my tongue and swallow you down
I entered the bathroom to see him at the counter, brushing his teeth, eyes reaching for me in the mirror with an appreciative twinkle. “You look well fucked love,” he mumbled around the toothbrush, then spat into the sink. A slow smile and long stretch with a big yawn from me, “And you look indecently awake and ready for dinner.” His eyes suddenly flared with lust as he watched my body. The evening had arrived and I was feeling the drain of energy from the day. I walked up next to him and looked at my rumpled self in the mirror. Hair and makeup a bit mussed up and had to agree, I did look well fucked. He quickly finished up as I began brushing my teeth, when I bent to rinse and spit I felt his hands on my hips as he pressed me back against a deliciously thick erection, the thin fabric of his underwear the only thing separating us. I gazed at him in the mirror through my lashes as I rinsed and wiped my mouth, his eyes bore into mine, half-hooded and intense with want. “I think you are on the menu.” Snickering, I rubbed my crotch around the hard ridge of him and he dropped to his knees suddenly, burying his face in my crotch. “Fuck. I love the smell of your cummy pussy,” he mumbled against my nether lips, sucking and licking and kissing me. I grabbed his hair enjoying his enthusiasm until I realized I was completely shot. “I need food if we are going to do more baby. Long flight, long drive, great sex, feed me and we can see where that leads.” He stilled and gave me a self depreciating grimace, “Sorry kitten, it’s hard to moderate myself where you are concerned,” he slowly stood and pulled me around to face him, bodies flush against each other. I tilted my head back looking sleepily up at him. “Gods, I love how you look right now, all flushed, and mussed, sleepy and wanton.” He said as he dipped his head down to give me an intense kiss that tasted like the both of us, while lifting me up onto the counter.
His kiss slid from intense to gentle until our foreheads rested against each other. “I never have enough of you, forgive my brutishness.” He said softly. I sighed wistfully. “One of these days we might want to do something about that…” I whispered back, running fingers across his chest and cupping his shoulders. A sharp inhale as he pulled back to look me intently in the eyes. There were so many unspoken words and wants in his gaze, I could see them rising like bubbles to disperse across the surface, was I serious, was he brave enough, would we mess up our lives, was it worth the risk? They all ran across his face like clouds racing the sky. “Yes we really should,” he finally said, cupping my jaw in both hands kissing me with infinite tenderness, it made my heart flutter in my stomach. Another kiss and fiercely gentle hug until my stomach growled and I had to giggle, he squeezed my behind, “Let’s go feed you.”
We often think that we have control over our hearts, but they go willy-nilly where they will despite the wishes of our rational minds. A deep sexual connection can open doors that we think we’ve firmly locked and tossed away the keys too. Sex is so much more than sticky orgasms, though that is one of my favorite parts of sex. Sex is a language, and at its very highest - the language of love, of opening, of acceptance, of being seen and valued for whom we are, of being wanted and of wanting, and of the deep satisfaction. I see you in all your complexity and you are beautiful and worthy of the gift of my body, the gift of my love. That is powerful and heady stuff. As we drove to the restaurant, both of us were silent. I was thinking about the door I had opened - actually - we had opened; what it meant, was it even possible? Also, whether I’d overstepped his boundaries and would this opening I created - spell the end of us? My heart felt a bit nervous, and tender until he reached across the console and grabbed my hand bringing it up to his lips, then pressed it against his heart and held it there for several minutes before releasing it to downshift. Words are also often a liability in the language of love. His gesture filled me with warmth and confidence in us once again, and I was reminded that regardless of whatever the future held, my heart, my essential self would be fine. In this moment of time, we had each other and that was enough, the future would always be what it would be, and it is only in the present we actually live.
The restaurant sat on a hill overlooking a fishing harbor. It was a small place famous for its seafood offerings, but mostly frequented by the locals. He found a spot around the corner and down the hill a bit. I was wearing heels, treacherous attire on cobbled streets so he, in his chivalrous manner, came around to help me navigate. I took his hand as he helped me out, but before we stepped away from the car, he walked me back into it and pressed his body firmly into mine. I could feel the semi-rigid length of him in an arc across my belly, the firm tip pressing into the top of my pubic bone as I tilted my head up to look inquiringly at him. “You’re making me want things lover, things big and small,” he breathed against my lips while cupping the back of my head. An exhale filled with gravity from me and I gave him a quick kiss wrapping my arms around his middle. “We’ve plenty of time to discuss that later, but my tummy thinks my throat has been cut.” I quoted a favorite saying from my late father while hugging my lover tightly. He chuffed a moment and then keeping me tightly wrapped in one arm guided me to the curb and up to the restaurant. The restaurant had the most wonderful aroma, I can still remember the scents…the incredible scents of garlic, herbs, fresh fish, and cheese, and butter…my mouth salivates at the memory of this scent. It was indecent how hungry I was and it is completely true that hunger goes a long way toward making food that much more delicious. Luckily they were between rushes and still had all but one item on the menu available. We sat at an intimate table in the back, knees touching, eyes gazing into the others. I felt his hand stroke from mid-thigh down to where his knees were firmly bracing one of mine. “So, what shall we have darling?” he asked. Hmmm… so many things on the menu, we ended up sharing a bowl of the most amazing fish soup, Breton style and of course the fish and veggies were cooked to perfection, and far too much dangerously smooth and delicious perfectly Sauvignon Blanc. I sat back in my chair and watched him thoughtfully from across the table for a minute or two. He leaned back as well and lifted his lips the glass of wine and quietly watched me back. “What is going on in that busy mind of yours darling?” he asked. I grimaced and waved my hand in the air, then with a quick laugh I said, “I am far, far too much in my head right now. It’s like an echo chamber in here, and frankly, I’d rather open a door and escape it for a bit. Tell me something - anything that excites or even bores you currently.” Those sharp perceptive eyes looked straight into my soul and understood just what I needed. So he regaled me with various stories about interactions with people and shared such funny insights, I was reminded why I found him so terribly, wonderfully attractive.
I was fairly tipsy when we left the restaurant, I know his capacity to hold his liquor was far beyond mine though, since he laughed and watched me with twinkling eyes for the couple of hours we sat there enjoying all the culinary delights and exchanging wit. This time he held me quite firmly as we walked back to the car, me chatting up a storm in my wine-addled way. “Sometimes sweetheart,” I exclaimed, throwing an arm to the air, as we stood on the curb looking down toward the harbor where the setting sun left a faintly tangerine streak across the horizon, “I feel like a big wind could just blow me away, like ashes into the ether to play with the sylphs.” His eyes grew thoughtful and somber for a second, “don’t do that, whatever would I do without you?” I wasn’t going to have any of that, so I poked him in the chest, “Wrong interrogative hon, it’s whom, whom would I do without you?” He laughed, “There is that too.” “You are a bad, bad man. You got me drunk. I don’t do drunk. Okay, maybe I’m not quite drunk, but I am tipsy, and tipsy is still a form of drunk, and -- now I’m babbling. Goddess, someone just shut me up. ” And with that bit of foolishness I clamped my mouth shut with a grumpy hrumpf, and bless him, he just laughed harder while still holding onto me. “You’re a delightful drunk.” I melted into him mumbling against his chest, “That is at least one of the four of us that thinks so.” An inquiring chuckle from him and I responded, “You know -- me, myself, and I. We’re an opinionated bunch and we outnumber you 3 to 1. You lose, we win, I’m a fool.” That just set off another peal of laughter from him, which got me chuckling too. “I stand by my opinion baby,” he said smiling into my hair, “let’s get back and see, what other delightful surprises your “drunken” state will reveal.” I smacked him weakly, “See, bad man.” both of us grinning, he loaded me up and we headed back to the manor.
The bottle of water in the car helped sober me up just enough on the short drive back.
When we got there he went to put on some music in the drawing room. I freshened up a bit and walked back toward him. He was sitting in a large chair, the sound of some classic jazz playing in the background, a glass of port in his hand and a bottle with empty glass next to him. I stopped in the doorway and took him in. He looked like the lord of the manor, the way he splayed out in the chair. I expected a butler to show up at his side with a cigar and a lighter any second. He saw me and a slow sensuous smile slid over his face. I could feel the way my body suddenly became aroused at the thought of his hands on me. I didn’t care if there was anyone else in the house. The staff were retired for the night, we were alone -- so I did what my nature told me to do and pulled the dress off over my head and stalked toward him in my underwear and thigh high stocking, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. His smile took on a feral edge and he slid up adjusting himself a bit. I looked down at the outline of his hardening length as I came closer. It was fairly visible in the light chinos he wore and it made me even more turned on. He patted his lap and instead of sitting sideways, I straddled him. He scooted forward and pulled me flush up against his body. My bra was quickly discarded as he gave me kisses tasting like the finest port. I groaned into his mouth while his hands roamed my body, bringing my arousal fully awake. Gentle fingers plucked and caressed my nipples, cupped my breasts, teased my still panty covered pussy and clit. He moved his mouth down along my neck, jaw and collarbone. Then the sweet, sweet suckling of my nipples. He was a true master of breast worship, he suckled, teased, and gently bit me until my chest and face were flushed and I was panting and my pussy felt slippery. Every once and awhile he would moan with pleasure and rub his cloth covered erection along my slit . After many, many minutes to the point that I was beginning to think I might cum from his playing with just my breasts, he whispered against me, “I think you’ve been a naughty kitten and need a bit of a spanking.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled down at him as he took a long satisfying pull on one nipple. “Oh, I know I’m naughty,” I gasped in pleasure, almost cumming. “But surely I don’t deserve a spanking, sir.” He grinned wickedly up at me. “I think you do.” And quick as a flash, I was turned over his knee, my panties pushed off to dangle over one ankle. His middle finger traced from my clit to my pussy feeling how incredibly wet I was. “Mmm… hiding this from me were you?” he took a stinging swat of my buttocks. A sharp gasp from me and a soothing rub from him, again and again he did the same, whispering the most deliciously filthy things to me as he did. I was dripping wet by the time he stopped. I’d had at least 15 swats and my cheeks were burning.
He stood me up and after yanking the panties off he guided me over to the couch with a mirror beside it. Positioning me to face the mirror he put one of my legs on the couch and the other stayed on the floor. I was bracing both hands on the wooden armrest absolutely transfixed by him as he dropped his pants and underwear. A long drip of precum followed their descent to the floor. His face was flushed darkly and he unbuttoned his shirt as he watched me watching him. I could see the skin on his upper chest was deeply flushed as well, glancing at myself I saw my flush mirrored his. He stepped behind me and smacked my ass one more time, making me squeal and moan as he rubbed it gently while he grabbed one hip and guided the tip of his dripping cock to my very wet entrance. I think of myself as a tease, but he -- he was a tease. A wicked, evil, horrid, mean, wonderful, glorious tease. He thrust very shallowly into me, just the head, just enough to make me go crazy. I was begging him over and over, and he kept saying not yet, not yet, and I was practically in tears, when he slid all the way in and just held me tight against him. I could feel the pressure deep inside as he pressed against the very bottom of me, and the way the seam of his balls moved with his involuntary flexes as it pressed against my clit. He was breathing as heavily as I when he began to slowly and very slightly circle inside of me. “Oh fuck!” I cried out. The shot of pleasure and pain making a mess of my senses. He grinned quick before his eyes rolled up and a deep groan came from him,“You feel so fucking good kitten.” Then the thrusting started and I thought I’d really pass out. There was so much sensation! Gods above, it was incredible, he kept a steady slow pace, with lot’s of groans and moans and whimpers. I loved how vocal he was because it ramped me up. He reached around and began very gently circling my clit after long, long minutes of increasing pleasure. Just a few swirls and I exploded, my body shuddering my legs and body quaking, my voice a soft wail, my pussy fluttering and clenching him, and he didn’t last very long, just as my shudders peaked he exploded inside of me with a ferocious shouts, his rhythm faltering, and his body shaking as well. Soon we both were drifting down with the aftershocks in our bodies. His body bowed slightly over mine. I felt the hot drip of his sweat hit my back and shoulders as my own sweat pooled in my armpits and along my collar bone. We looked up into each other's eyes in the mirror and a big gusty satisfied sigh later I was no longer wetly-impaled by him but lying on his chest on the couch. His hands once again caressing my back and grasping fistfuls of my hair as he gently kissed my forehead and hairline, and I kissed his jaw and chin. Words seemed ridiculously inadequate to describe all the things going through us while he held me tightly and we let our bodies calm and settle. At this point I was truly wiped out. Poor darling, he had to help me stand up and then we were giggling as we found all the clothes and I yanked off the heels while we stumbled back to our room in various states of undress. A quick clean up and we both curled up together in the bed. He spooned tightly behind me, his lips against the shell edge of my ear as he gently played with it using his lower lip. “I can’t stay awake anymore, big spoon,” I mumbled sleepily. I felt the smile against my ear and heard it in his voice as he whispered, “Sleep well -- little spoon.”
I want to taste, taste, taste you.
Each drop of your words,
the essence of your mind,
each little glance and smile of you... let me lick it up,
let me savour it on my tongue and swallow you down
I entered the bathroom to see him at the counter, brushing his teeth, eyes reaching for me in the mirror with an appreciative twinkle. “You look well fucked love,” he mumbled around the toothbrush, then spat into the sink. A slow smile and long stretch with a big yawn from me, “And you look indecently awake and ready for dinner.” His eyes suddenly flared with lust as he watched my body. The evening had arrived and I was feeling the drain of energy from the day. I walked up next to him and looked at my rumpled self in the mirror. Hair and makeup a bit mussed up and had to agree, I did look well fucked. He quickly finished up as I began brushing my teeth, when I bent to rinse and spit I felt his hands on my hips as he pressed me back against a deliciously thick erection, the thin fabric of his underwear the only thing separating us. I gazed at him in the mirror through my lashes as I rinsed and wiped my mouth, his eyes bore into mine, half-hooded and intense with want. “I think you are on the menu.” Snickering, I rubbed my crotch around the hard ridge of him and he dropped to his knees suddenly, burying his face in my crotch. “Fuck. I love the smell of your cummy pussy,” he mumbled against my nether lips, sucking and licking and kissing me. I grabbed his hair enjoying his enthusiasm until I realized I was completely shot. “I need food if we are going to do more baby. Long flight, long drive, great sex, feed me and we can see where that leads.” He stilled and gave me a self depreciating grimace, “Sorry kitten, it’s hard to moderate myself where you are concerned,” he slowly stood and pulled me around to face him, bodies flush against each other. I tilted my head back looking sleepily up at him. “Gods, I love how you look right now, all flushed, and mussed, sleepy and wanton.” He said as he dipped his head down to give me an intense kiss that tasted like the both of us, while lifting me up onto the counter.
His kiss slid from intense to gentle until our foreheads rested against each other. “I never have enough of you, forgive my brutishness.” He said softly. I sighed wistfully. “One of these days we might want to do something about that…” I whispered back, running fingers across his chest and cupping his shoulders. A sharp inhale as he pulled back to look me intently in the eyes. There were so many unspoken words and wants in his gaze, I could see them rising like bubbles to disperse across the surface, was I serious, was he brave enough, would we mess up our lives, was it worth the risk? They all ran across his face like clouds racing the sky. “Yes we really should,” he finally said, cupping my jaw in both hands kissing me with infinite tenderness, it made my heart flutter in my stomach. Another kiss and fiercely gentle hug until my stomach growled and I had to giggle, he squeezed my behind, “Let’s go feed you.”
We often think that we have control over our hearts, but they go willy-nilly where they will despite the wishes of our rational minds. A deep sexual connection can open doors that we think we’ve firmly locked and tossed away the keys too. Sex is so much more than sticky orgasms, though that is one of my favorite parts of sex. Sex is a language, and at its very highest - the language of love, of opening, of acceptance, of being seen and valued for whom we are, of being wanted and of wanting, and of the deep satisfaction. I see you in all your complexity and you are beautiful and worthy of the gift of my body, the gift of my love. That is powerful and heady stuff. As we drove to the restaurant, both of us were silent. I was thinking about the door I had opened - actually - we had opened; what it meant, was it even possible? Also, whether I’d overstepped his boundaries and would this opening I created - spell the end of us? My heart felt a bit nervous, and tender until he reached across the console and grabbed my hand bringing it up to his lips, then pressed it against his heart and held it there for several minutes before releasing it to downshift. Words are also often a liability in the language of love. His gesture filled me with warmth and confidence in us once again, and I was reminded that regardless of whatever the future held, my heart, my essential self would be fine. In this moment of time, we had each other and that was enough, the future would always be what it would be, and it is only in the present we actually live.
The restaurant sat on a hill overlooking a fishing harbor. It was a small place famous for its seafood offerings, but mostly frequented by the locals. He found a spot around the corner and down the hill a bit. I was wearing heels, treacherous attire on cobbled streets so he, in his chivalrous manner, came around to help me navigate. I took his hand as he helped me out, but before we stepped away from the car, he walked me back into it and pressed his body firmly into mine. I could feel the semi-rigid length of him in an arc across my belly, the firm tip pressing into the top of my pubic bone as I tilted my head up to look inquiringly at him. “You’re making me want things lover, things big and small,” he breathed against my lips while cupping the back of my head. An exhale filled with gravity from me and I gave him a quick kiss wrapping my arms around his middle. “We’ve plenty of time to discuss that later, but my tummy thinks my throat has been cut.” I quoted a favorite saying from my late father while hugging my lover tightly. He chuffed a moment and then keeping me tightly wrapped in one arm guided me to the curb and up to the restaurant. The restaurant had the most wonderful aroma, I can still remember the scents…the incredible scents of garlic, herbs, fresh fish, and cheese, and butter…my mouth salivates at the memory of this scent. It was indecent how hungry I was and it is completely true that hunger goes a long way toward making food that much more delicious. Luckily they were between rushes and still had all but one item on the menu available. We sat at an intimate table in the back, knees touching, eyes gazing into the others. I felt his hand stroke from mid-thigh down to where his knees were firmly bracing one of mine. “So, what shall we have darling?” he asked. Hmmm… so many things on the menu, we ended up sharing a bowl of the most amazing fish soup, Breton style and of course the fish and veggies were cooked to perfection, and far too much dangerously smooth and delicious perfectly Sauvignon Blanc. I sat back in my chair and watched him thoughtfully from across the table for a minute or two. He leaned back as well and lifted his lips the glass of wine and quietly watched me back. “What is going on in that busy mind of yours darling?” he asked. I grimaced and waved my hand in the air, then with a quick laugh I said, “I am far, far too much in my head right now. It’s like an echo chamber in here, and frankly, I’d rather open a door and escape it for a bit. Tell me something - anything that excites or even bores you currently.” Those sharp perceptive eyes looked straight into my soul and understood just what I needed. So he regaled me with various stories about interactions with people and shared such funny insights, I was reminded why I found him so terribly, wonderfully attractive.
I was fairly tipsy when we left the restaurant, I know his capacity to hold his liquor was far beyond mine though, since he laughed and watched me with twinkling eyes for the couple of hours we sat there enjoying all the culinary delights and exchanging wit. This time he held me quite firmly as we walked back to the car, me chatting up a storm in my wine-addled way. “Sometimes sweetheart,” I exclaimed, throwing an arm to the air, as we stood on the curb looking down toward the harbor where the setting sun left a faintly tangerine streak across the horizon, “I feel like a big wind could just blow me away, like ashes into the ether to play with the sylphs.” His eyes grew thoughtful and somber for a second, “don’t do that, whatever would I do without you?” I wasn’t going to have any of that, so I poked him in the chest, “Wrong interrogative hon, it’s whom, whom would I do without you?” He laughed, “There is that too.” “You are a bad, bad man. You got me drunk. I don’t do drunk. Okay, maybe I’m not quite drunk, but I am tipsy, and tipsy is still a form of drunk, and -- now I’m babbling. Goddess, someone just shut me up. ” And with that bit of foolishness I clamped my mouth shut with a grumpy hrumpf, and bless him, he just laughed harder while still holding onto me. “You’re a delightful drunk.” I melted into him mumbling against his chest, “That is at least one of the four of us that thinks so.” An inquiring chuckle from him and I responded, “You know -- me, myself, and I. We’re an opinionated bunch and we outnumber you 3 to 1. You lose, we win, I’m a fool.” That just set off another peal of laughter from him, which got me chuckling too. “I stand by my opinion baby,” he said smiling into my hair, “let’s get back and see, what other delightful surprises your “drunken” state will reveal.” I smacked him weakly, “See, bad man.” both of us grinning, he loaded me up and we headed back to the manor.
The bottle of water in the car helped sober me up just enough on the short drive back.
When we got there he went to put on some music in the drawing room. I freshened up a bit and walked back toward him. He was sitting in a large chair, the sound of some classic jazz playing in the background, a glass of port in his hand and a bottle with empty glass next to him. I stopped in the doorway and took him in. He looked like the lord of the manor, the way he splayed out in the chair. I expected a butler to show up at his side with a cigar and a lighter any second. He saw me and a slow sensuous smile slid over his face. I could feel the way my body suddenly became aroused at the thought of his hands on me. I didn’t care if there was anyone else in the house. The staff were retired for the night, we were alone -- so I did what my nature told me to do and pulled the dress off over my head and stalked toward him in my underwear and thigh high stocking, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. His smile took on a feral edge and he slid up adjusting himself a bit. I looked down at the outline of his hardening length as I came closer. It was fairly visible in the light chinos he wore and it made me even more turned on. He patted his lap and instead of sitting sideways, I straddled him. He scooted forward and pulled me flush up against his body. My bra was quickly discarded as he gave me kisses tasting like the finest port. I groaned into his mouth while his hands roamed my body, bringing my arousal fully awake. Gentle fingers plucked and caressed my nipples, cupped my breasts, teased my still panty covered pussy and clit. He moved his mouth down along my neck, jaw and collarbone. Then the sweet, sweet suckling of my nipples. He was a true master of breast worship, he suckled, teased, and gently bit me until my chest and face were flushed and I was panting and my pussy felt slippery. Every once and awhile he would moan with pleasure and rub his cloth covered erection along my slit . After many, many minutes to the point that I was beginning to think I might cum from his playing with just my breasts, he whispered against me, “I think you’ve been a naughty kitten and need a bit of a spanking.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled down at him as he took a long satisfying pull on one nipple. “Oh, I know I’m naughty,” I gasped in pleasure, almost cumming. “But surely I don’t deserve a spanking, sir.” He grinned wickedly up at me. “I think you do.” And quick as a flash, I was turned over his knee, my panties pushed off to dangle over one ankle. His middle finger traced from my clit to my pussy feeling how incredibly wet I was. “Mmm… hiding this from me were you?” he took a stinging swat of my buttocks. A sharp gasp from me and a soothing rub from him, again and again he did the same, whispering the most deliciously filthy things to me as he did. I was dripping wet by the time he stopped. I’d had at least 15 swats and my cheeks were burning.
He stood me up and after yanking the panties off he guided me over to the couch with a mirror beside it. Positioning me to face the mirror he put one of my legs on the couch and the other stayed on the floor. I was bracing both hands on the wooden armrest absolutely transfixed by him as he dropped his pants and underwear. A long drip of precum followed their descent to the floor. His face was flushed darkly and he unbuttoned his shirt as he watched me watching him. I could see the skin on his upper chest was deeply flushed as well, glancing at myself I saw my flush mirrored his. He stepped behind me and smacked my ass one more time, making me squeal and moan as he rubbed it gently while he grabbed one hip and guided the tip of his dripping cock to my very wet entrance. I think of myself as a tease, but he -- he was a tease. A wicked, evil, horrid, mean, wonderful, glorious tease. He thrust very shallowly into me, just the head, just enough to make me go crazy. I was begging him over and over, and he kept saying not yet, not yet, and I was practically in tears, when he slid all the way in and just held me tight against him. I could feel the pressure deep inside as he pressed against the very bottom of me, and the way the seam of his balls moved with his involuntary flexes as it pressed against my clit. He was breathing as heavily as I when he began to slowly and very slightly circle inside of me. “Oh fuck!” I cried out. The shot of pleasure and pain making a mess of my senses. He grinned quick before his eyes rolled up and a deep groan came from him,“You feel so fucking good kitten.” Then the thrusting started and I thought I’d really pass out. There was so much sensation! Gods above, it was incredible, he kept a steady slow pace, with lot’s of groans and moans and whimpers. I loved how vocal he was because it ramped me up. He reached around and began very gently circling my clit after long, long minutes of increasing pleasure. Just a few swirls and I exploded, my body shuddering my legs and body quaking, my voice a soft wail, my pussy fluttering and clenching him, and he didn’t last very long, just as my shudders peaked he exploded inside of me with a ferocious shouts, his rhythm faltering, and his body shaking as well. Soon we both were drifting down with the aftershocks in our bodies. His body bowed slightly over mine. I felt the hot drip of his sweat hit my back and shoulders as my own sweat pooled in my armpits and along my collar bone. We looked up into each other's eyes in the mirror and a big gusty satisfied sigh later I was no longer wetly-impaled by him but lying on his chest on the couch. His hands once again caressing my back and grasping fistfuls of my hair as he gently kissed my forehead and hairline, and I kissed his jaw and chin. Words seemed ridiculously inadequate to describe all the things going through us while he held me tightly and we let our bodies calm and settle. At this point I was truly wiped out. Poor darling, he had to help me stand up and then we were giggling as we found all the clothes and I yanked off the heels while we stumbled back to our room in various states of undress. A quick clean up and we both curled up together in the bed. He spooned tightly behind me, his lips against the shell edge of my ear as he gently played with it using his lower lip. “I can’t stay awake anymore, big spoon,” I mumbled sleepily. I felt the smile against my ear and heard it in his voice as he whispered, “Sleep well -- little spoon.”
2 года назад
