tagErotic CouplingsNo More Thinking

No More Thinking

byBellaLover©

I I pressed myself hard along his long, cool body and in my head he was superhuman--strong and commanding and insatiable for me. He could walk around like this, holding me like I was a sack of potatoes instead of a 150-pound woman doing everything she can to throw him off balance with her writhing. I willed him to growl in my ear, to tell me everything he wanted to do to me. I knew it wouldn't happen--he's not much of a talker, especially in the sack. But a girl can dream. And I was. I was imagining him saying excruciatingly dirty things to me about how hard I made him, about how my pussy belonged to him. And then he'd prove it by impaling me on it till I shuddered and cried and came all over him.

Instead he just stood there, barely holding himself upright under my weight. I ground my pussy into his growing erection in frustration. Get with the program, I thought.

I was thrilled that he was responding, though. I could imagine what we looked like, me pressing into him greedily, biting his neck. I could feel his body around me, but more than that, I imagined how it was making him feel. I imagined I could force my need into him. You like that, don't you? I thought as I press myself on him. You want more? You want me to make you come? He shifted, I slipped around him and he slid into me. I groaned. I lowered my face to his chest and licked and bit at his flat nipples.

He growled and I felt pleased. Until he pushed me away from him.

I looked at his face and he scowled. To my dismay, he was not pleased.

"What is it?" I said, my voice coming out higher and more frightened than I'd been aiming for.

"This is not working," he said and pursed his lips. The mood was broken.

"But you want this, I can feel it." I narrowed my eyes and moved on him. A pang of pleasure snaked up my body. I felt my chest grow hot and bloom with blush.

At my movement, he staggered backward and fell into his nasty old easy chair that I hated. He pulled me off him as if I were a rag doll. I gasp at losing him and sat defeated straddling his legs. Now my face was hot, too, and my eyes stung with the threat of tears. What had I done wrong?

His eyebrows drew together as he considered me, barely looking in my eyes. He glanced up at me, and seemed exasperated.

"You're trying too hard," he said. He placed a hand on my hip and it fit along the curve perfectly, as if it were made just for this, like he'd done it a million times, which, of course, he had.

His words caught me up short and my body was confused. I ached with need, throbbing heavily between my thighs. But a sickening shame swirled at the pit of my stomach too. I felt found out. I suppose in some part of me, I had to admit that what I had been doing was what I thought he would like. It was what I thought I was supposed to do. It's what great sex was supposed to be like.

Wasn't it?

How could he know otherwise how much I needed him, how much I wanted him? Just being with him didn't seem enough. It seemed paltry, boring. It couldn't possibly express how overwhelmed I felt by longing I had for him. And I knew from years of unfulfilling sex that if I didn't give my brain a task, it would focus cruelly on the natural softening of my breasts over the years, of my soft skin not being quite as taut as I thought it should be. Now that was dangerous sex.

I placed a hand on his neck tentatively, waiting to see if he'd pull away. He didn't. I said the only thing I could think of that was true and not too humiliating.

"I want you," I started. My eyes flickered over his face, sneaking a look in his eyes. What I found there made me cast my eyes downward.

His hands floated over my sides and down my hips. One rose and caressed the space between my breasts. He looked at my chest and belly and mound and he turned ruddy, breathing harder. I tried to move, to force his hand to cup my breast, which was quivering with need. He pulled his hand away.

"You have me." His hand flicked away and lightly slapped back between my breasts in exasperation and returned to rub along my hips and thighs. He circled his arms around me and pulled me close, exhaling in a hungry sigh.

"But I want to come," I added, and scooted closer to him. At the movement, I shivered, and felt my nipples harden as they lightly caressed the hair on his chest.

He sighed.

"You will." A lazy but intent smile spread across his lips. He kissed and bit the line of my jaw. I could feel his skin pressing closely along my length. The hair around his cock tickled my wet, sensitive folds and felt my body shudder under him. My breath started coming faster. I pressed in a little more closely and felt my wet center slide from tickled to throbbing when it met his cock. The hard nub there, the one I'd touched so many times imagining him taking over and knowing what to do without me speaking, allowing the fury of need to build in me, slid easily, needingly along his pulse.

"I want you inside me," I blushed and turned my head away and arched to bring my nub into closer, more intense contact with his cock. I felt my breath catch and a cloudy sensation spread through my brain. Oh, this was what I wanted. A flush broke out in the ticklish spots on my back and sides. This was what I had imagined. Now if he would only run his big hands up my back and press my breast into his mouth.... I arched again and tried to make it happen.

Instead, his hands clasped my side and pulled me away.

"You're doing it again," he chided.

I huffed in need, frustration and embarrassment. What was I doing that was so wrong? Just wanting him. Just needing him in me, just wanting to have a wonderful time with him.

I turned and twisted my legs off of him and my throbbing need pounded even harder as I closed my legs. I felt rebuked, rejected. The heel of my hand gathered the tears dripping down my cheek.

"Hey listen," he whispered, turning me to hug against him. He bit my ear and the feeling was sharp and followed by a thread of pleasure that made me shiver. Taking in my response, he said, "That's what I want. I want you to be here with me. Not in your head. Not trying to make some porn fantasy come true. You're here with me, and then suddenly you get aggressive and you don't respond to me anymore. You just respond to whatever's happening in your brain."

Busted. I looked down.

"I love that brain, but not during sex," he added, and he kissed my forehead. "I don't know. I get the sense that you don't feel anything when you get like that. Like I might as well not be here."

He shifted uncomfortably, causing me to slump further against him, my breast pressing into his chest. This was a lot of talking for him. It didn't come naturally and he didn't like it. I looked into his eyes and caressed his face.

I reached to kiss his mouth languorously, slowly. Exploring. Noticing how each pull of his lips, each lick of his tongue made my stomach quiver and made me want to jerk with need. I could imagine....

... but no. I opened my eyes and pulled back a bit. I kissed his cheek.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'll try to stay here with you."

He grinned that toothy, lopsided grin that made me--oh, the smile that launched a thousand fantasies. But I tried to focus instead of sliding into one of my fantasies about him. I was a little scared. He looked at me with such.... love. I wasn't used to noticing that. It made me feel weird. Uncomfortable. Sex was one thing. But... this? This was... different.

He leaned in and kissed me deeper and murmured my name. I almost wanted to leave my body it felt so good. I wasn't sure I could take it. I might come right here and now, from the anticipation, from being naked and close to him like this, from his mouth working on me. But I'd have to manage this, because I wanted to do more than kiss tonight. So I took a deep shaky breath. And growled. The feeling was exquisite and rumbled through my whole body, shivering down my belly and thighs. Ugh.

"And try... to trust me," he breathed between kisses. "I want you to feel good, too. I want you to come. I want to come. Believe me, it's in my best interest." He chuckled and finally cupped a breast in his hand, a thumb roaming over it.

He bit my ear and whispered into it, "And I really, really want to be inside you."

My breath caught and my chest felt like it might explode, shuddering. I wanted him so bad my body was keening for him.

I tried, this once, to turn off my brain, to not think about what I looked like, but what I felt like. I fell on his mouth for the pleasure of it, for the taste of him. A little tangy, a little sour, a little.... umami--that Japanese word for that meaty, deep taste. That's what he tasted like. I wanted more. I wanted to eat him up.

And he kissed back. He pressed back against me. The heat of him overwhelmed my senses. I was getting so hot. I took a deep ragged breath and realized I had stopped breathing.

"Mmm. You taste good," I said and bit his lip. He laughed, a deep, throaty sound. I thought I might break apart if he weren't inside me this instant.

I reached down for him but his hand caught me before I could grasp him. "Slow down, hot rod," he chuckled again, biting, sucking my neck where it joined my shoulder. A sound came out of me like a giggle and a cry and a moan and a sigh all at once. I thought I sounded crazy, but couldn't catch my breath enough to do anything else.

So, okay. I was going to be myself. I wasn't going to retreat into the fantasy of riding him to a quick, intense orgasm. And that meant I was going to have to... beg, I guess. I bit his neck to hide my face from his view. And also because he smelled really good right there.

"But I need you. I need you inside me. Please?"

He placed my hand on his stomach and he shivered at the feeling of it.

"You have me," he said, growling. "And I will be." He ran his knuckles over the soft fur of my pubic mound and I whimpered. So close. So close. "But don't be so desperate. Let's enjoy this a little before we get to the main event."

Desperate. I bit harder at his cutting words and he yelped. Was he even a man? What man talked like that?

I felt a tear sting my eye.

"But I feel...." I took a deep breath and felt the embarrassment flood over me. "I feel like I could come right now if I had you in me... You feel so good."

The impression of his chest pressing back into my breasts of our mingled heat and smell, of his thick cock jutting between us--it felt so right. Despite myself, I was imagining what it would feel like, remembering what it had felt like, to have him inside me. My hips rocked all by themselves.

He chuckled a fast, deep chuckle that vibrated into me from his chest. The rumble ignited something small and hot in me, spreading. I sighed and nuzzled closer. But I was also mad. Gimme my orgasm, dammit, I thought. I took a deep breath, inhaling his rich, intoxicating scent. I licked and nibbled the crook of his neck. I felt enveloped in his heat. But not enveloped enough. I wanted him in every nook and cranny and he wouldn't give me what I wanted. Screw him!

I wished.

So, fine. If he won't give me what I want, I won't give him what he wants. I let my brain start up again. He could lift my leg and slide inside me and pound me till I came. Surely it wouldn't take long. He could lift me and let me straddle him and I could bounce on him to a quick orgasm. He could drop to the floor and plow into me, deep and hard. I wanted it. So bad.

"Hey," he said, his voice sharp. "Where'd you go."

I was sharp, too. "I want to come, and I was imaging the ways we could do that."

He bent to lick my ear, his knuckles pressing a little harder into my fur, just out of reach of the little nub that strained for him. How dare he.

I groaned and whimpered despite myself.

"I want to be in you when you come, too," he said, but he let his big hand slip down and touch, just for a second, my hard nub. A strangled sound came from my throat and my hips bucked into his hand. Instinctively my head lolled back.

"Mmm. That's more like it," he laughed and bent to bite my neck. A sobbing, desperate sound came from my throat. I loved when he did that. I reached a hand up and pulled his head down to my neck again. He bit again. And again.

Then, appropos of nothing, I thought, he added. "But the more the merrier, right?"

The more the merrier, the what? What was he talking about? But then I couldn't think.

"Oh, oh god," I said, when I could gather enough breath to do so. His knuckles dragged along my folds and my nub again and I convulsed. It felt so good. A sharp pleasure shot through me, blossoming between my hips. I could feel myself getting wetter. I could feel his hard on pressing into my hip. His teeth dragged my neck to the sensitive spot behind my ear. A ragged whimper came from me.

I opened my legs to him and he pressed further into me. His hands unfurled and his fingertips stroked into me. My hips rose so drastically I thought I might fall off his delicious, warm, hard lap. My whole body was abuzz and the sensation was building. It was all very real: The smells we were creating--my diluted sweat, his more potent sweat, the rich, tangy scent of my sex, the way our body heat brought them all out--the rough feel of his body hair pressing into me here and there. The feel of my hair matting on the nape of my neck and temple. He bit my ear and pumped his fingers into me. Absently, in need, my fingertips reached down to flutter on my nub as he pressed into me. My other hand reached up and pinched my nipples, pulling them out slightly in a way that added a sharp pleasure to the one already building in me. Fuck.

"Oh, oh!" I called. His fingered had curved, they were reaching just the right spot, aligning perfectly, over and over. My breath rasped as he bit down on my neck and sucked hard. My legs tensed, straightened out in our odd arrangement, trapping his hand inside me. The bubble of pleasure that was building in me burst as he wriggled his fingers, not stopping. Everything blacked out for a minute. Everywhere he touched was sensitive, molten, and the touch was too much and not enough at once. Now. Oh god. God.

I was coming down but his fingers didn't stop, they kept pushing in me, lazily at first, playing, curling and twisting and slipping. A big thumb reached up and pressed on my nub, lightly at first, slipping to the left and right of it. My whole body was oozing, I felt, and it had lost its connective tissue. But his hand, his insistent, magic hand, was building a new bubble inside me. My head, which had been resting on his bicep, shifted off of it, lolling over the side, and I felt his wet mouth latch onto a nipple, pulling slightly, biting and tugging. His hands, they didn't stop. I was so sensitive, I didn't know if I could take it. I wanted to escape. I wanted to barrel headlong into the pleasure. I wanted to get control back of my body, which seemed to be rapidly losing control of its functions. But I couldn't seem to move. I was breathing fast, and I realized I was starting to feel alarmed. What was he doing to me?

Cool air rushed around my nipple as I felt his lips at my ear.

"Don't fight it," he ordered, his breath coming fast and hot out of his mouth. Then his mouth was back on my breast, tugging, running his teeth softly over my nipple.

I tried to relax. Tried to turn off my brain. I was too aware of my body, too aware of being splayed out, wet from sweat and sex and saliva. I felt... embarrassed again. Surely I couldn't look pretty right now. I turned my head and buried it in his arm, wiping my tears on him. And crying also. Again. Dammit. But the feelings: I was overwhelmed, confused, and the bubble of pleasure building up was... I wasn't sure I wanted it. All that talk about wanting an orgasm, gimme gimme, and here he was, urging me to give into it, and I was--I was fighting it.

I wanted to turn off my brain, but this first: I evaluated him. His strong body cradling me. His warm talented mouth on my breast. His fingers--now more, I felt full and stretched and almost contented--pressing into me, not letting up. He was working so hard. Should I feel guilty?

No, dummy, I told myself. Feel lucky.

He wanted me to trust him. This wasn't going according to my plan, according to what I had in my in all my porntastic fantasies. But OK. Fine. I love him. I'll trust him. He's not trying to hurt me or control me. In fact, it feels so good. If I lose control, if I do something gross or impolite when I lose control, he'll still be there. Right? I can let my guard down. ...I guess.

And so I kissed his arm, where my tears still pooled. I licked at the tears, at his arm, and I began to move with him, keep up. A low, whispered moan came from me. I reached up and petted his hair at the nape, ran my nails down his back. He shivered and moaned into my breast. It was exquisite. I could feel it rumble through his chest and onto my breast and I arched my back in thanks. His thumb clamped down on my nub, his fingers pressed insistently into me. I felt my whole body lose it's support structure. No bones. I wrapped my arms around his neck and bit his shoulder, curling into him. I raised my knees and spread them and suddenly he was further inside me than before, his thumb losing track of my nub as I bucked with him. I felt myself move under him, arching and undulating and reaching. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes. I may have said it out loud. I may have cried it.

The cry became a sob. I came, again, the bubble bursting and flooding me with more feeling. I squeezed my eyes tight and sobbed his name over and over. Oh, Oh God. It went on and on. My body rippled like a jellyfish under his hand and I felt like one. His fingers moved almost imperceptibly inside me. Not willing to totally let go and stop.

He ran his thumb up over the fur of my mound, petting me. He brought his mouth up and kissed my ear. I turned my head and kissed, deeply this time. This was no fantasy now. This was... I don't know. I can't say. It's too much for words. But I tried to tell him with my tongue, my lips, my panting breath. My hands moved over his chest, as if I were soothing him, as if I weren't the one who'd just had two, maybe three or four, orgasms in a row. I petted him to know he was there. To thank him, to know this was real and he was mine, that he made me feel so good.

I wanted him to feel so good too, so I reached down and felt a sticky wetness on his belly. I looked down and saw that he was half soft. He must have come when I did that second--or third--time.

"Baby," I said in surprise. I looked up and he took my mouth with his again, a little more insistently. My fingers drifted through the wetness, playing with his hair down there and softly stroking his half hard member.

"You come so good, baby," he whispered to me, a little growl in his voice. I blushed again, in a different way.

"Did you proud, huh?" I said in a small voice, kissing his delicious neck again.

"Oh yes," he growled and kissed me again, long and deeply, but in no hurry. Where'd he get this patience from? I didn't have it.

"Any fantasies?" he asked, and then exhaled roughly as my finger brushed over the tip of his cock.

I kissed down to his chest, feeling his skin turn to gooseflesh under my mouth. "No fantasies," I said, a smile in my voice. "No time."

I licked a nipple. No biting, I remembered from earlier. "Is this OK?"

"Mmm, more than OK," he said.

I flattened my tongue over his nipple and, with some effort, lowered myself to my knees. My body was so relaxed, it was hart to coordinate. My thumb went up to caress his other nipple. I felt his cock, slick with cum and sweat and my juices, slide along my belly. Wow. How could I want him this much? After that amazing series of orgasms, could I give him the same? I felt a little... inadequate.

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