K

K moaned frustrated.

Small, humid dotted kisses burned a line along her gently oscillating hip bone, his mouth creeping closer to her blushing, piquant dampness, eyes burning up at hers. His dexterous, stout fingers anxiously darted across her body, skilfully avoiding any areas that might bring her direct pleasure; sticking solely to her proud, prominent nipples, her shallow sloping belly, and her dewy pubic mound. Only smooth light, skimming contact. His fingers seemed to gather up all her desire, bringing it to the surface of her skin for his inspection. It was in her reddening breast. Her throaty breath. Her twisting waist and the light beading of sweat across her temples. She could smell her own arousal, dark and heavy in the air.

Her yearning, her desire swirling and eddying in her chest, climbing higher and haughtier, alarming. Alarmed, she was, by her desire; her level of desire compared with how little he’d touched her. He’d barely peeled her bra from her heated skin. It was frustrating to the point of irritation. Just fucking touch my pussy, her head screamed. She wondered, noticing the self satisfied smirk on his face, whether he’d read her turbulent, tumbling thoughts. His fingers, tugging at the white surf of her underwear, cresting above the deep blue denim, his fingers splashing and dragging through the spray, laughingly optimistic.

Her ears and throat smouldered from the moist, panting nibbles and kisses he’d lovingly left at last, her fingers ploughing wide furrows through the thick waves of his hair, the mild pain of his gnawibg heightening her awareness, his tactile, forceful lips grazing the groove of her groin. His wide, hot hands cupping her firm buttocks, lifting her torso to his mouth. He was the first guy, out of many, to touch her with adoration. With desire. She didn’t know whether it was love, per se, but there was something behind his movements, something deeper, a purpose and intent that didn’t seem to be entirely sexually motivated.

She remembered again how he’d advised HER to slow down when she had been going down on him. Her mind flashed – a clichéd white flicker of light – back to his taut, dark and scarred stomach, his trimmed wiry pubic hair . . . his gorgeous cock – a half smile accompanied this thought. He’d tasted so good. Salty, with a nasally hint of perfumed soap. She’d been pleased, content with the decent handful, quite wide. She’d struggled to widen her mouth, her hand encircling the flared base and moist pungent scrotum. She’d been impatient. He’d taken her hand, lifting her off his phallus, explaining patiently, unhurriedly about the art of the tease. “You’re not a teenager any more . . .”

She looked over his body in her mind’s eye, the wide muscular shoulders and narrow hips forming a long, narrow triangle, the inverted apex above his pubic bone; his whole upper body seemed to be pointing to his erection. She’d started over, light kisses across his abdomen, tracing his embossed ribs, the taut muscles flexing, nay, spasming, as he held his torso upright on his elbows, her hands slipping across his sides, his hips, down to his tight, compact butt. She’d learned to love his tiny jerks and automatic reactions. She loved his almost painful lust, his bucking hips, his involuntary muttered enthusiasm, his heaving chest. She watched his face as she slowly took his hardness deep into her mouth again, visualising the wide, shiny head bumping against the back of her throat, feeling his pulse on her sensitive lips. Her hands slithering over the smooth muscular shanks of his thighs.

She struggled to retain the image, but it was shimmering at the edges, fading, and disappearing; distracted by the sudden moist swipes of a long tongue, running the length of her sultry lips, tantalisingly close to her clitoris, the dual images of solid, marble cock and the stimulus of the assault on her clitoral folds spurning her on to higher heights. She could feel the weight of his cock against her foot as he crouched between her legs, butt in the air.

She adored the way barely a word had been said since he arrived. He’d just taken her. . .

My seizing Sleeping Beauty.