Daydream with Me

I just need this right now. All the buildup, the fantasy, the aching want crawling through me: it needs to find a resolution.

You're older than me by a couple of decades, and you're the first man to make me feel like I need salt and pepper hair gripped between my fingers. It's the beard: cropped close so that angular jaw still teases me, but full enough that your natural auburn and the shades of gray make up a mosaic on your face that I imagine under my lips, on my fingertips, against the skin of my thighs.

And I want you to keep those glasses on. Those thick-framed glasses that boast a hipster coolness--they light me on fire. I want to push you back onto the couch, maybe catching you a little by surprise. And though I want to turn this into an animalistic meeting of needs, I'll be slow in the way I put one knee to the outside of each of your legs. I'll take my time as I straddle you so that you can watch the hem of my sundress pull up along my thighs while my hot, needy cunt gets closer and closer to your lap.

Because I want you to want this as badly as I do. I want you to flinch in pleasure and desire when my panty-covered pussy first makes contact with the crotch of your jeans where, I suspect, your cock is firming up.

I forget my plan for measured patience at the thought of you stiffening beneath me, and I push myself into you with a little grinding wave. And there are your hands, moving up my thighs, beginning to disappear under the fabric of my dress, traveling around the curve of my legs to grab the ample ass you find there. You pull me against you more firmly, and a pleasured little grunt, entirely unplanned, escapes from me. A flutter of embarrassment at the vulnerability brings my eyes to yours. So blue. The lids heavy, the pupils dilated. Behind those glasses that I love, and I remember why I wanted you to keep them on: I want to be the reason they end up lopsided and askew.

I trace my fingertips lightly up either side of your neck, until they're buried in your hair. My hips won't stop moving against what I can now fully feel growing between us, and, god, I want it. I barely even make the decision to take your mouth against mine. Soft heat against my lips, and I sigh into you. And there are your hands again, gripping my hips now, tightly, so that I can feel each of those long fingers against the curve of soft skin there. I feel your tongue push its way into my mouth at the same time that your grip gets tighter; I'm sure I feel you leaving bruises on the skin of my hips.

I am hot and hungry, and your mouth feeds me like a berry bulging with juice, quenching a summertime craving. The landscape of my body, becoming used to neglect, is bursting to fruition under this attention.

Your body under my hands, against my lips, between my thighs--it fills me with a roiling lust so powerful the throbbing in my pussy is a deep ache building to butterflies in my stomach like I'm about to teeter over a cliff's edge. God, I want to dance on that edge with you. Pulling at the soft skin of your earlobe with my teeth, my hips still lapping against yours, I whisper a string of unplanned words--how much I need to feel you inside me, how I've wanted you for so long, how I want to come around your perfect, pulsing cock, how I want to feel you release into me. I can't bring myself to care how needy and desperate I sound, because I am needy and desperate now.

And I don't think you mind--your husky voice, which I feel against my neck more than I hear it, is telling me in return how I make you so hard you can barely stand it, that you're going to fill me completely, push deeply into me until you can guide my hips with your hands on my ass and grind my clit against you. It's everything I need to hear, and I tell you how my sweet cunt is going to be all yours until I come and throb and mold myself around you.

Your hands don't leave my body when they move upward to pull the thin straps of my dress down. There's force in the way you do it, and I know you're feeling the same hunger I am. My arms shimmy away from the little spaghetti straps, and my small tits sit in front of you--nipples hard, moving with the rhythm of the heaving breath I can't get under control.

The first wet swipe of your tongue across my nipple rips a little moan from me. Bolstered, your hand plays with the unattended breast, and the rush of your fingers and your mouth on me is almost more than I can handle. I don't think I even make the conscious decision to reach down, press my palm against the denim bulge I've been attending to with my dripping pussy, and pull down the zipper.

This distracts you, and your eyes move upward to meet mine. Your hands move off of my body and to your own hips. I lift myself out of my straddle slightly, let you pull your jeans and boxers down, and I'm mesmerized by the little bounce your perfect cock gives as the last inch of underwear is tugged down past it.

Wanting a cock in my mouth has never been so selfish. I want to make you feel good--god, do I want to make you feel good--but in that moment I wrap my lips around you because I need to. Because I need to feel hot skin in my hotter mouth, the rush of my lips passing past the sensitive ridge of your dripping head, the lushness of my tongue, flat and wet, against the underside of this perfect, thick cock. With a little hum of excitement, I edge my lips down your length to the base of you, sighing a little when I feel you touch the back of my throat.

Your little grunts and utterances are the perfect cadence to the fluid movements of my lips on you. I feel powerful and confident in how I've undone you, and I'm taken by when I feel your two strong, long fingers slip past my dripping panties and sheath themselves in my pussy. So focused on consuming you this way, I hadn't noticed your hand, planted on the ass I've propped into the air for this fun, edging its way toward my ever-wettening cunt.

It's only some of the fullness I want to be stretched to accommodate, but it's delicious. You thrust them in and out a couple of times, letting me feel the length of those fingers I've so admired, and then plunge them in again. They stay deep this time, rutting against the deepest wall they can find and wrenching gasp after gasp after gasp from me. I'm trying to keep up my enthusiasm for sucking your cock, but you're so deft with your fingers that I think I'm just panting and moaning around your hardness, unable to focus any more.

And suddenly, I'm bereft, your fingers having retreated. Your hand is on my chin, easing my mouth off of you. Your gaze is intense, determined. Your hands and body negotiate me onto my stomach, and I feel the calloused skin of your palm graze across the skin of my ass. I plead with you, and I don't even know what for: To fuck me? To make this last? You answer me with a firm slap on my ass, and my back arches in response.

You use the moment to your advantage: your hands are aggressive on my hips as you pull my body toward you. I'm so eager for that moment of your full, hot cock pressing into my entrance, I give myself over completely to you. Ass in the air, face against the couch, I'm pleading again.

And there you are: that delicious head I savored minutes ago pushing slowly in, splitting me, making me hungrier with every little, needy thrust.

I try to stay patient, to await you inch by inch to fill me, but I can't. My hips know what my hot cunt needs, and so I rock against your rock hard cock in little bounces, taking in more of you after each retreat. I hear you gasp and moan behind me, and I'm emboldened by this shared, excited need.

You thrust into me as I thrust backward to finally fill me completely, and each long, thirsty movement after that feels like the first drops of rain after a drought. You're telling me how good it feels to make me yours, to take my pussy for yourself. You're in control again, your hips rolling against me. I know you're losing yourself in the moment because your rhythm is erratic and your moans are entirely un-self-conscious. I adjust myself so that I can put a hand under my body, between my legs and play with my clit. My entire body jolts at the heaven of your firm dick pushing and pulling my body at your will and the little thrill of my fingers drawing forth another little spasm of pleasure. I'm close, and the building orgasm feels like it will take me somewhere else. I'm so eager, so wanting, so uncaring as to whether I ever come back to this place as long as I can buck and thrust and pull against you inside me like this.

I moan out a please. You laugh a little, a low voice in my ear. Your body is on top of mine now, and you've turned me over just enough so that my eyes are looking into yours as you continue pumping and pumping into me. Your glasses are askew, your eyes are bright, and this new twist in my position is creating the most delicious friction of your cock against my clit. Fingers wrap into my hair and give an insistent pull. My entire body is pins and needles at the sensation, and I'm plummeting into the buttery heat of this release. My head rocks back against the roiling wave that explodes inside me, and I hope briefly that it never ends. Your now-steady pounding of my soaking cunt keeps glazing my now sensitive clit. Every urgent movement draws out the pleasure impossibly.

I'm clutching at the fabric of the couch, continuing to ride your cock through the juicy, desperate spasms of my pussy, and that's when I see your face change. A look almost of surprise clouds takes over your expression as you thrust and thrust and thrust into me, and your forehead buries in between my neck and shoulder as you fill me. I feel the strong spasms of your cock unloading your cum into me, and I know that if my own pleasure wasn't still coursing through my body the sensation would bring me to the edge all over again.