L8 Night with Lionel and Sondra

He was late coming home -- later than usual. Sondra fell asleep on the couch, waiting up for him. She didn't hear the engine, or even the door opening. Lionel awakened her with a soft kiss.

"You waited up for me."

"Oh, baby," she yawned and stretched, then sat up and hugged him tightly. "Welcome home. Are you hungry? You want me to fix you something?"

"I'll get it. Why don't you go on to bed? I'll be in in a little bit."

"Okay," she sleepily agreed and swayed off down the hall.

Lionel was not long, but by the time he slipped into bed behind her, she was already asleep again. He wrapped his arm around her, his chest to her back, in a loving caress. He planted a kiss behind her ear and stroked her ribs, provoking from her a sighing Mmmmmm sound.

Sondra tucked her ass into his lap. The thin nightgown, really just a thigh-length tee shirt, was hiked up to where her panty line would have been ... had she been wearing any. Lionel's thighs were hot against hers. She could feel his penis swelling against her backside, pressing against the light layer of cloth. There was almost nothing between them.

Sondra moaned as Lionel began to circle her nipples with his fingertips, and her hips made something of an answering circle, flexing against him as he made her hotter. In the dark, through the knit fabric, her breasts perked up to receive his attention and beg for more. His breathing grew rougher in her ear. "Do you want me, baby?" he whispered raggedly.

"God, yes, yes, you know I do..." The motion of her hips slipped a little, became a little less controlled, a little more urgent. Lionel reached between her legs to find her lubrication. His finger dipped into her wet, swollen cleft. Her desire for him was obvious.

The probe made Sondra crazy. She moaned and lost the vision of him taking her from behind because now she needed him to suck her nipples. She rolled onto her back, toward him, and made her breathless demand.

Her strangled plea added fuel to his fire. Lionel licked at her aureoles, staying on target even though she writhed beneath him. Sondra grabbed at the back of his head and hissed as he began to suck, then gave a soft shriek as he nibbled at the tender flesh. "Ah! Don't stop!"

Lionel showed no signs of stopping. Her nightgown surrendered to his strong grip. He made love to her breasts with his mouth and his hands. She kept arching and moaning beneath him, urging him on. He did not pull away until Sondra grasped his cock, and the distracting sharp swell of sexual pleasure coursed through his veins.

The vibrations of his groan tingled through her bosom. They were deep in the endless loop now, each receiving and sending to the other, more magical than Marconi's waves, bouncing off the private atmosphere of their bedroom. Their noises, not only vocal but skin on skin, bodies on sheets, ricocheted gently around the room. They were not lost, except, perhaps, in one other.

Sondra handled Lionel like a blind woman reading Braille, groping at the rigid ridge and the subtle texture of his veins and hair. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, and fell to his nipples. Lionel lay back to receive her ministrations. If possible he grew even harder in her hand as she stroked and cajoled him. Her tongue tap-danced over his pinkish-brown circles. She caught a nub in her teeth, teasing another moan from her lover's lips.

"Do you want me on top," she panted.

"Yes..."

Sondra climbed on, pressing her shins into the soft cotton on either side of Lionel's hips. She kept her body above his and guided the head of his cock to her entrance, but no further, and rubbed the hard pole in her creamy heat. Lionel fluttered his hands at her sides, loving the tease but wanting more. Slowly she impaled herself on his stake, and with just the bulbous tip inside, began to rock back and forth.

Lionel flexed his hips upward, forcing another inch into her tight wet tunnel. He grunted and she cried out at the spiking pleasure. Her juices were dripping down his cock. Lionel played with her boobs which were dangling above him as she rocked around, pleasuring herself on his hardness. Sondra did not know how much longer she could hold out.

Suddenly, even as she kegeled in another effort to prolong the moment, she slid down his pole and he was fully inside her. "Oh, god," she gasped, and the urgency hit her like a tsunami, "Lionel, now, fuck me now!"

He was only too happy to oblige; he, too, was overwhelmed with primitive lust for his woman. He fucked her violently. Her weight was nothing to him as he thrust and thrust again into the hot core of her being. Sondra flailed above him and hung on for the ride. Her breasts bounced freely as she arched her back in ecstasy. Unintelligible noises sprang from their throats.

Lionel hung onto her hips. His orgasm rushed toward him, like a jet about to break the sonic barrier. He was aware of every inch of Sondra's body touching him -- her legs, her ass, her hands moving over his chest and biceps -- everything magnified -- their combined scents, their sounds, the pressure -- and suddenly he erupted in a bliss of filling her. Her body lengthened impossibly as she took him in. His cum tickled her insides like the ethereal laughter of angels. The two of them hovered in the weightless moment, at the very top of the parabola's peak.

Breathing heavily, Sondra collapsed forward on her lover's chest. Words of joy tumbled from her lips. He filled up her sky and caressed her, whispering in turn. The moment slowed and coasted ... the walls of their bedroom, the edges of reality, gradually winked back into existence.

The lovers shifted their bodies into spoons again, with Lionel in front this time. Sondra fit the bend of her hips around his butt and flung her arm around him. He held onto that arm and kissed it. He sighed in satisfaction, and in tiredness -- it had been a long day, after all.

"I love you," she told him. But he was asleep.