Category: Writing
and Poetry
The leather was cool
on the back of her neck, inviting. Her eyes we closed yet she could
feel his presence in the air. With every soft, gentle breath, she
slipped down into the smooth sofa. Her lips craving to be touched. He
drew closer. The small of her neck tingled as the first kiss made its
intention. She felt herself grip the cushion. He moved down. Planting
little pleasures as he made his way. She opens her eyes straight into
his, passionate aggression staring back. The air is shrouded in an
animal lust making her breath harder. She sets her head back down as
she senses the backs of his fingers run down her chest. Her heart
yearns for more. Her chest raises and falls. Up and down, soft and
slow, he barely caresses her stomach and thighs. He plays with her,
toying with her body as it screams out to be touched. Her heart beats
faster. She bites her bottom lip, ever anticipating when he'll make
his move. Eyes squeezing tighter and tighter each moment. He makes
small circles on her stomach and chest, never allowing her more than
two fingers. Soft as silk. His hand rises and falls with her heavy
breaths. She pushes out towards him, her body aching. His hand moves
to her knee and creeps up her thigh. The fringe from her new skirt
excites and tickles her all the more. Her head starts getting lighter
as she realizes her clenching of the cushion is the only thing
stopping her from bursting. She feels herself getting wet. He allows
for one finger to brush just around her clit. She quivers. Her
breaths allow for anxious moans to sneak out. He works his fingers
around a little faster, a little longer, never fully touching. She
grasps and re grasps the cushions and feels herself pushing back into
the sofa. Pleading in her head for the moment he'll touch it. Faster
he swirls. Feeling the lust drip from his other fingers he retracts.
She springs at his hands, pulling them towards her, but he resists.
She never dares open her eyes. Her heart is racing and breath
becoming short. In his teeth the bottom end of her shirt begins to
move up her stomach. She can feel his warm breath all the way up. Her
shirt lies just above her red bra. He undoes the hook and exposes
her. Perfect. Licking his lips he plants wet kisses around each
breast. Each spot grows cool as he soothingly blows. Her nipples
instantly become poised and stiff. He lets his fingers lay atop one
breast while his pointer slowly circles each rim. Every nerve ending
suffers the tantalizing. She can't take it anymore, he knows
it. All at once the warmth from his mouth and hands consumes her. His
middle and forefinger are thrust inside. She feels his tongue play
with her nipples while his fingers stroke her. She throws her stomach
into the air unable to subside the convulsions. The tiny moans turn
into cries of pure expression on waters where words cannot tread. The
teasing, the soft blows on wet kisses, had all led up to this. She
grew hotter. Sweat beading and dripping down her chest. The whirlwind
of overwhelming obsession for this moment made her not want, but need
him. His lion's gaze melting away any chance of insecurity. Her head
felt as though it were on acid, disbelieving the truth of the
encounter. He never tired. He never stopped. Every ounce of his being
was concentrated on her. Her brow forced together, breasts heaving up
and down. One shockwave after another he sent her. His lust knew no
bounds. Each move deliberate. The sheer ecstasy that immersed her
very soul was more than any meager orgasm of the past. She felt it
would last with her forever. There was no couch or cushions. There
was no frilled skirt or red bra. The only two things left in the
world were them at that moment. Bliss. The more she came the harder
it was to listen when her body signaled that she needed to stop.
Desperately giving in she felt herself settling down. Too exhausted
and enthralled to even utter another sound. He took his hands from
their positions and slid them around her stomach as she settled in,
hair strewn about her face. She laid there on his chest and they
stared out at the night sky. Hearts and breaths in sync. After all
calmed down and they grew tired, her last thought was stricken with
concern. What would she possibly be able to do? If he could make her
feel like that on the first date, how would she survive when they
started having sex.
