The Fuckin' Chair

I've had a lot of fantasies of you and me on that chair.

I know you're on the computer, I see you at the top of the stairs. I'm coming honey. . . for you. And soon I'm going to be cumming . . . for you. I'm getting quite a workout going up those stairs for you, first showers, now chairs, soon, the bed, and hopefully, later we can work our way around the downstairs, the couch, the kitchen, the table. But right now we must claim the chair, make it ours, not just yours.

When I get to the top of the stairs you turn and catch the look in my eye and you smile. Yes, playtime will begin. Right now. I'm so glad you just got out of the shower and have nothing but a towel on. I'll deal with that in my own good time, right now you are reaching out and tugging on my shirt, pulling me towards you, ornery sex covering your face. I want some of that ornery sex.

Ornery honey isn't wasting our time, that shirt is off! Oh, honey, your hands feel so good on my breasts, even through my bra, squeezing, caressing the satin fabric before unsnapping and peeling it off. Taking one full tit in hand you lift it to your lips and I am melting as I feel your hot, wet mouth close over my nipple. The tingles and warmth that were playing like background music in my body have spread lower, and that deep, loud longing buried inside is now throbbing and rolling in waves back across the nerves and an electric current is moving between my tit and my cunt. I can't hold still, I need some relief and my pelvis starts grinding against your erection.

Thank God, honey is not one usually to wait around, and my pants are open. You have to touch, to feel my wetness. But it's not enough, the pants have to go. God, I hate to have to climb off you, but it must be done. I need to be fucked. You need to be fucked. Soon the jeans are a stomped-on mess at our feet, instantly forgotten. We have important things to attend to: my tits, your dick, my clit, your chest, my fissure. My very wet, dripping fissure.

Before I know it I'm back over your lap and I feel the soft hair of your legs rubbing against mine as I settle across you. I don't want to wait, I desperately want you in me. But honey wants to play a bit. It's a sweet torture I enjoy. I guess I can wait since you insist on playing with my clit. Just. That. Way. Oh... God! And slide your fingers, your cool fingers inside my warmth, my honey-dripping warmth. And kiss me just the way your are, your tongue letting me know what your cock is going to give me in just a few moments, if I can just hold on, be patient.

My hips can't be still, that age-old instinct has taken hold. I have to help, to rock my hips against your fingers, and my pussy wants your cock, my hips know it and pretty soon your hands have given up. It's a tight fit down there as my pelvis creeps its way toward your shaft.

I break our kiss. We're now both gasping a little for air and my hands on your shoulders are shaking. I want to see your eyes, make you talk.

"Can I fuck you now?" I ask. As if I need to.

I love to hear you talk. I love your words, an attractive, interesting mix of modern slang, and what sounds to me like well-versed, romantic, and sometimes oddly quaint word choices with a heavy dose of man-speak. Surprisingly hotter than hell. So, I'm waiting for a reply, come on babe, don't keep pussy waiting another second.

"Babe ..." you say. You know I'm playing, the question is silly. But you're making moves even as you speak. Playtime is over and the serious business of fucking is about to start. I'm giddy with excitement.

Reaching down, I get that towel out of our way and wrap my hand around your long girth. Your cock is so satiny and smooth and hot to my hand as I start moving up and down slowly. You like it fast, but slow brings on a longing, more than a tease, less than torture. But, oh yes, you've given permission. We can fuck, what are we waiting for?

Lifting up, I push your length back a little between my legs and I can't wait. My pussy is so needy, I slide down and here we are, that moment we've been longing for, your hardness filling my softness.

God you feel so good. I start to rock, dragging my clit against you. Mmmm... and I'm squeezing in earnest, you are so deep inside me, it almost hurts as you touch my cervix. But it feels so damn good.

"Feel so fuckin' good, babe . . ." you whisper. Yeah, even you agree.

It feels so fuckin' good you want more, so your hands are on my hips encouraging me to ride. I'm with you honey, I need more too, so I'm picking up speed and rigor now. Oh, yeah! Blessed, glorious friction, but not normal friction, this is a well lubed friction because I'm so wet, you excite me so much. It's a mess down there, wet pubic hair, wet balls smacking against wet pussy lips.

I'm riding you fast now. I need to feel you thrusting hard up into me. You can't stop yourself, you are shoving that cock up.

"Honey," I'm panting, "harder, I need it harder."

Your hands are gripping tight my hips and ass now, and you are forcing the speed that I'm working hard to match. I can't get enough. I need more stroking, more feeling.

Harder. Harder. Fuck!

I think you like me to cum first, to watch it happen, to fuel your own orgasm, but I don't want that this time. I want us together. We've been working towards it, a mutual goal. C'mon honey, let's get there... almost... I'm fucking trying to get you there. I'm squeezing and my hands are running over your chest. We can't kiss, I can't tease you with my lips because we are fucking so damn hard we can't meet up.

But who's thinking of a kiss now? We're moving so hard, panting so fast and our only thoughts are on the action and sensations between our legs.

"Honey . . . hon . . . oh God, I'm . . . ah . . . mm . . . ."

And I'm there. Your hands come up to my waist now, and you are jamming yourself up into me and I hear those grunts, I feel those wet spurts.

We are fucking cumming together and it's the most incredible . . . .

" . . . ahh . . . ." You can't get more out than that. I understand.

I'm still moving over your cock, the last shots are coming, the last rhythmic pulses. The storm is over, but we're not done. It still feels too amazing.

Once again I feel my honey-induced, post-orgasmic stupid grin on my face. You're wearing a smile.

"We broke the fuckin' chair," you say.

"No!" I look at you with a bit of shock.

Sure enough, the back is bent, and the seat is a little uneven.

But it was worth it, babe.

Oh, yeah . . . .

~dh~