I could feel your eyes on me as I walked past you on the sofa, and couldn't help but put a little more bounce in my step. I couldn't help but give my bottom a little extra shake, causing my skirt to swish silkily against my thighs.
"Come here," you beckon, your voice tight with what I hope is desire.
"Why? I'm perfectly comfortable over here on the chair," I reply coyly, as I curl up in the armchair, careful not to expose the distracting absence of any panties. I lean forward to place my wineglass on the coffee table, pretending not to notice how my blouse drapes open in invitation, innocently, yet blatantly displaying my breasts swathed in the lacy push up bra purchased just for this occasion. I think I hear just the slightest groan escape your lips as your eyes devour the view.
It has been a long time; an achingly, insanely long time since I felt your skin on mine, since I felt your desire pressing into me. The force of my want, the ache of my emptiness is enough to make me want to scream; but I can't act. As much as I want to launch myself, straddle you on the couch, catch your lips with mine as I slowly stroke myself against the hardness I have fantasized about for weeks, I feel like I am bound in the chair.
"Come," you repeat. I sigh inwardly, hoping you understand the impact that your double entendre has on my already-simmering arousal. I peek at you through my lowered lashes, letting the smallest of shy smiles play across my tingling lips, silently calling to you, imploring you to act. I feel bound in place, needing you to be the aggressor, needing you to overwhelm me with your desire, needing you to conquer me, to claim me.
If I could escape my bounds, I would lose my hands in your hair, and draw you into me, deepen your kiss, taste your tongue, your lips, your cheek. I would lean my head back and guide you to taste me, to run your lips along my neck and then down to the swell of my breasts. Arching, I would press towards you, feeding you my lace-covered nipple, moaning as you drew it deep into your mouth and began to suck. Inflamed by your tongue, I would grind against you, my fingernails digging through your shirt to steady my rhythm, my thighs heated by the friction of riding you through your jeans.
However, still I am stoically seated on the chair, my breath shallow. Waiting. Wanting. You stare back at me, commanding my gaze; I hope it is lust that I see simmering behind the seemingly placid blue of your eyes. I involuntarily shift in the chair; my leg now directly under my dripping pussy, I feel my calf sharing in the slick wetness you have so easily elicited, by simply being nearby. Locked in your eyes, I draw my lower lip inward and hold it between my teeth, sucking its softness and sliding my tongue along its edge, hoping the action will somehow help me contain the pressure of my mounting passion.
If I could let go, I would swiftly rid you of your t-shirt and would slowly drag my hands across your chest, delighting in the feel of your skin, lightly grazing your nipples with my fingertips, savouring your throaty groan. Encouraged, I would softly pinch your left nipple and then your right, teasing and distracting you from my hungry mouth's intent path along the taut edge of your neck. You would jump in reaction to the feel of my wet tongue against your earlobe, in reaction to the feel of my hot mouth, in reaction to the sound of my arousal, a breathless whisper in your ear, "You're mine."
Yet I am unable to speak, to say how much I want you, to say that I am yours, to tell you that I need you to truly, simply and basely take me. Now. My breath catches with a gasp as you suddenly lean forward, hands on your knees, seemingly like a predator preparing to strike. Your gaze drops to my parted lips, the lower now glistening wet, released from its protective role. I tremble in anticipation, all my senses hyperaware, and a small seed of fear glowing inside. I am afraid that my lust will overwhelm me, afraid that your hunger for me has waned, afraid that you won't claim me, and afraid that you can't see that I crave your control.
"Am I going to have to come and get you?" you taunt, with an edge of warning in your voice. Your eyes sparkle with ... desire? With promise? Somehow I manage to hold your gaze, staring deeply into your eyes as you rise from the couch and walk towards me.
If I could command myself, I would draw your hands down my back, across the roundness of my ass, up and under my skirt. I would hear you exhale when you felt my skin, as you realise there is no underwear to hamper my goal. I would place your strong fingers against my wet pussy, laying bare the evidence of my desire. Holding your hand, I would rub my swollen clit against your palm, guiding your fingers, helping them dip inside, priming me for your cock. My hips would begin to unconsciously circle, revolving with the heat your hands so skilfully generate at my centre. My head would fall back and a low, deep moan would escape my lips.
But my mouth is dry, silent, my unvoiced desire trapped inside. My heart is pounding as you approach, now terrified that you may know, that you may be able to tell, that you may actually give me what I find it impossible to ask for. You stand staring down at me and without hesitating, you take my arm, pull me up from the chair and in a swift movement, you pin my arm tightly behind my back. As I instinctively tug to free my captured arm, you grab the side of my face and force your lips onto mine. Your deep, demanding kiss steals my wits, melts my resistance, and promises everything. I revel in the closeness, in my vulnerability, in your strength.
"Is this what you need?" you groan against my panting lips, now swollen from the force of your kiss.
I close my eyes and swallow. I know you want me to ask for it, that I must admit that this is what I need before you can ever give it to me.
If I could release myself, I would slide down your legs and unzip your fly with my still sticky fingers. Roughly, and impatiently I would yank off your jeans, suddenly offended by the barrier to my goal. My eyes would widen as your delicious cock is freed, tantalizing me. Battling between conflicting desires, I would lick my lips in anticipation. "Just a little taste..."I would murmur against its velvety hardness, warming your balls with the heat of my breath. You would swallow in reply, anticipating the hot, slippery depth of my throat.
I would slide my tongue along the bottom of your now lengthening hardness, stopping to savour the feel of your shaft where it meets your mouth-watering cockhead. Unable to wait any longer, I would moan as I slid down, swiping my tongue along your length, drawing you deeper and deeper into my mouth. I would hear you suck in a gulp of breath as I begin to suck you. Your hands would disappear in my hair as I slid up and down, devouring you. Gauging you by your moans, I would suck and lick and swallow you, teasing and pleasing as I saw fit. Gazing into your eyes, I would abruptly stop, and abandon your cock with a final circle of my tongue. Rising from the floor, pulling my skirt up, I would kneel astride you. Holding you firmly, I would guide you as I slowly, finally slid down, taking all of you into my hungry, wet pussy.
But I am frozen, revelling in the feel of my arm captured by your strength, every inch of my ready, hungry body screaming, "Take me. Fuck me. Free me."
You wait for my answer.
If I had your strength, I would stare into your eyes as you felt me envelop you, squeezing you tightly. I would smile naughtily as I pulled you over, and planted you exactly where I wanted you, laid out on the couch. I would brace myself against your chest and take you for a ride. I would pump you deeply, filling myself with your cock, rasping my clit against you. I would lean back, grinding your hardness along me. I would circle until I found just the right spot. I would begin to rock, slowly at first with the tiniest of strokes up and down, feeling the intense pressure of you. Increasing the speed, stroking your cock with the undulations of my pussy, your fingers would reach up and began to flick at my clit. The fervour would overtake me, as my rocking turned to bucking while I rode you home.
But, you are waiting for my answer, while my body calls to you. I can feel you eyes boring into me, trying to see what I have so deeply hidden. The long silence stretches my control, control wound so tightly that I can almost feel it snap as I utter, "Yes," so quietly I can hardly hear myself.
"Yes," I whisper into your mouth. Before I can utter another word, your lips crash down on mine. The world falls away and I tumble, releasing my control, I give it to you. You roughly back me against the wall, pressing your body into me, and you moan as you grind your rock-hard cock into my stomach. You impatiently pull down my blouse, tearing to expose my breasts. You seize them, crushing them in your hands, rolling my nipples until I cry out from the exquisite pain. I hear you groan in response as you devour my neck, biting and sucking, heedless of the red welts you are leaving behind. You grab my hips and throw me back into the chair.
"Turn around," you order. Not understanding why your command makes my pussy ache, I greedily turn to face the chair. Unceremoniously, you flip my skirt up and discover my naked ass.
"No panties," you hiss with surprise, realising that I have been waiting for you, wanting you, needing you. Without warning, I feel the sharp sting of your hand slapping my ass, and I cry out. The pain makes me glow. Hearing you grunt behind me, you slam your hard cock into my aching, wet pussy and I feel whole. I sigh as the world dissolves around me and I become nothing but this rawness being filled. You begin to fuck me, using me, pumping as hard and as fast as you need, each thrust forcing an uncontrolled groan from my lips. You grab my hair, pulling, using it as a handle to ride me and I arch, pushing in back response.
"Touch your clit," you command. "Rub it. Come on my cock as I fuck your cunt." Willless, I begin to flick and rub myself, shamelessly pushing myself back onto your relentless cock. Slap! You begin to spank my ass as you pound into me. Overwhelmed, finally unashamed, I begin to come, unable to stop it. I'm unable to pull myself back from that edge as I had always done so many times before. The tight pull of my orgasm on your thrusting cock overcomes you and you press deeply into me, embracing your own release.
You lean forward, panting to rest your head on my salty, sweaty back.
"You're mine." Your voice is husky as you utter the words. "You know you're mine."