Falling Pt. 03 - Fallen

I register the heat and wetness from your cunt in the gusset of the sex toy and I feel a new rush of desire between my legs, the excitement of what I'm about to do to you flowing like a drug through my veins.

You take control of me again with a desperate arousal that sends my heart pounding against yours as you sit me up on the bed and straddle me, pushing your clit against the penis which rests stiffly against my stomach.

I look down at the intriguing sight of my new appendage, glistening and louche, the wet gleam of your wetness mingling with the lube as you rub your slit slowly up and down the shaft, gasping as you tilt yourself forward into me, your clitoris pushed against my cock now, our nipples touching each other's bare skin, your hair falling forward into my face and you kiss me once more: the heavenly heat of you.

Then you're rising up on me, positioning yourself over the tip of the dildo and bearing down, fucking me slowly, savouring the slow slide in and out, just a little at first, and then deeper, deeper, until I can tell by your writhing gasps - the way you're hands are gripping the back of my neck, the force of your kisses - that the tip is pressing deep inside of you, the shaft stimulating your g-spot as you grind forwards into me, and every time you push down hard, I can feel the delicious pressure of you against my still-swollen clitoris until I'm moving in time with you, our bodies undulating as one.

You were leaning back slightly before, allowing our tongues to meet, but now you're pressing close into me, your back straight so my lips are on your chest and you're throwing your head back and making these high-pitched noises which have me sliding my hands from your waist around to your buttocks, massaging them with my lube-covered hands, feeling the smooth movement of you riding me... deliberately caressing near to your anus, your labia, and feeling you respond.

I lick up the stretch of your neck - the salty, berry taste of you - feeling your hands gripping my shoulders, the back of my head, pulling me so close I can barely breathe... muddled, senseless syllables... and then your whole body is shaking on top of me as you climax, your convulsing thighs squeezing me hard, fast at first and then slower, rhythmically, for a satisfyingly long time.

I imagine the pressure of the dildo coursing inside you alongside this external heat of your clitoris against my body... and then you're slowing, leaning back, your tongue flickering against mine again, our bodies sweaty and oozing odours of berries and sex, rubbing sensually against one another, groaning still as you come down.

I move to roll on top of you but you keep me under you and somehow we wriggle down on the bed so you are lying on top of me. I think how I love the feel of you pushed so close against me, soft and completely feminine, as you take my hands, entwine your fingers with mine and push them down above my head as you kiss me, the sultry slip of your tongue against mine.

I feel as if I'm witnessing another transformation in you now, an irrepressible surge of arousal, as you sit up and turn around, sliding my dildo into you with your back to me. At first, you're sat up, sliding back and forth and arching your back as I reach for your hips and hold you there, my fingers tight to the front of your pelvis feeling the rocking motion of you, listening to your sighs of pleasure. And then you're leaning forwards, your hands running down my legs and holding my ankles down, your chest almost flat to the bed as I watch the sex toy slide in and out of your wetness from behind. I know that this position allows the weight of my cock to fall forwards onto your g-spot, I can easily imagine how good this pressure feels and I think again how easy your body is to understand, how completely in tune I feel with you.

Desperate to feel the heat of you, I reach again for the lube and warm it in my fingers; the turn on of your moans as I rub my hands over your bum cheeks. This is the first time I've really looked at you properly from behind: your shape is slightly larger than mine and I sigh as I run my fingers over the sumptuous curves of you which I love so much.

You moan as I stroke my slippery fingers through the luxuriance of your pubic hair which surrounds your lips and runs up and to the sides of your bum crack. This is not the image of lubricious mass produced pornography - waxed, tanned, tight-skinned pussies which fail to arouse me - but instead your hair growing with natural abundance, the dark pink folds of your vulva contrasting with the soft pale skin of your bum and thighs, the same imperfections I observe in my own body - on you, perfect: the naked, natural beauty of you. I love that, as I did you, you'll show me this part of you unashamedly, this mutual adoration of our bodies simply for what they are.

I stroke through your wiry soft hair, sparkling with come and lubricant, inching closer now to the enticing holes between your legs. I run my fingers up and down your labia as you slowly slide yourself up and down my penis and then up to the tight skin of your perineum. I've touched you here before but then stopped, not wanting to overstep a boundary, but I think of where you touched me and licked me minutes before, how you seem to be altering your movements to bring my fingers up on you and, casting my inhibitions aside, I let my lube soaked fingers glide up this erogenous part of you until I'm gently stroking your anus. You gasp and I feel your hot breath tickle my leg as I push a little harder, stimulating you here with one hand and caressing you bum cheeks still with the other as you fuck me and I think: I'm going to masturbate to the sight of you like this for a very long time.

The only pornography I ever need is my imaginings of you.

You fuck me like this for a time before you turn around again, your face flushed, your skin hot and moist with exertion, and we kiss with a depth which acknowledges how and where I've just touched you. Your movement on top of me feels so sensual and, as you moan and kiss me ever more deeply, I realise from your movements that you're manoeuvring my cock back inside you.

I remember reading how Aries women love 'being on top' and I smile as I look at you and think: it's true. You're enjoying the power of holding me down, and me, Sagittarius, always longing for adventure, for new experiences, can't resist the extraordinary lure of you. We are each other's most compatible zodiac signs, fellow fire signs, and together we are kindling and burning, flames licking up through our bodies, all ablaze...

You're rising up on me now and I can't resist staring at this beautiful sight of you stretched on top of me: the droop of your breasts, your nipples pert in arousal - and now you're touching my tits, I think, not for me, but for you, for the feeling of me in your hands.

I watch in awe as you push yourself up onto your feet, straddled over me, frog-like, so I have a full frontal view imagined only in my crudest fantasies of you: the dark pink of your labia wrapped around the sex toy which now you are slowly and sensually fucking, the shaft fully visible before you slide down again and push against me. And then you're massaging your own tits, your body still gleaming with lube, and for a time your eyes are closed so that watching you feels unbearably intimate, voyeuristic even - but I'm mesmerised, irretrievably lost in you.

I watch as you slide one hand down through the thickness of your pubic hair and start rubbing your clitoris, a combination of smooth and jerky movements. I watch the speed of your fingers increase, watch you fuck me faster, and I realise I'm holding my breath with the thought of watching you come like this... but then you're stopping, reaching for the lube, taking my hand and squeezing a little onto my fingers and bringing them between your legs...

The angle is wonderfully awkward and I touch you clumsily at first before resting my fingers on the inside of your thigh so I can stroke your clit with my thumb, your emphatic exclamations heightening my awareness of the raw sensation of my touch, the tingling pleasure the silky lubricant brings, so cold it feels almost like liquid fire.

I watch as you reach down and gently pull up on the skin above my thumb so that your clit protrudes from under its little hood, so hard now in arousal that it almost feels erect. And, still on the soles of your feet, you're alternating the way you fuck me: completely in and out, slowly, faster, pushing down. I don't know where to look: the incredible sight between your legs - phallic; frenetic fingers - or your dark pink nipples and areolae which you're still stimulating with your other hand...

But I settle on your face: the tilt of your head, a small frown of concentration, your eyes loosely closed, your lips slightly parted in an almost smile and I can feel you holding your breath too now as a hardness grips the softness of your body. I can feel you're so close...

I recall being about fourteen years old, experimenting in a Chemistry lesson with strips of magnesium. Fascinated, me and some friends stole a handful of these and took them out of school to create our own firework display. We stuck them into the broken mortar between bricks of a wall outside the local shop and, one by one, we lit them and watched them burn. Like lighting a fuse, they glowed a fierce hot white and we lit them with a compulsion - each little platinum explosion as compelling as the last...

I imagine that this is how your clitoris feels now: white hot and glowing. And being with you feels equally like this: an elemental, unstoppable chemical reaction.

Tell me you feel it too.

I watch, taking in all of you now, as your successive cries resound, the tautness of your body clashing with your softness and then breaking, the sinews of your thighs clenching and releasing as I grip your leg with my other hand, your orgasm ascending like a tide across your stomach and chest, your come glistening down the length of the shaft every time you slide up, the noises you're making deep now, sonorous, as you push down on me and finally forwards, collapsing tremulously in my arms, the motion of moving from your feet to your knees penetrating you with new feeling, the weight of the sex toy pressing down on your g-spot as you kiss me and breathe the final depths of your orgasm into me.

I think: I don't ever want to be with anyone but you.

We lie like this kissing and moving gently against one another. I had the sense that we were winding down but somehow the fluency of our tongues, the feel of your skin rubbing against mine has me kissing down you neck and, between us, we're moving your body upwards. You gasp as the dildo slides out of you, superfluous now as I pull you up quickly to my mouth, almost in one movement, your hands pounding once against the wall to stop your momentum.

There are no slow caresses now; I can't slow my desire as I lick and suck your clit which throbs against the full soft wetness of my tongue, so sensitive from the orgasms I've brought you to, and you sway against me - those noises again... God, you turn me on so very much. My hands reach up, groping your sticky breasts as I lick you, then down, gripping your thighs from behind and pulling you up so you're sat completely on my face.

I lick the swollen lips of your labia, then probe my tongue stiffly into your cunt - the sweet taste of the lubricant becoming salt inside you. It's at this moment that your liquid come, gathered inside you from your most recent orgasms, gushes from your vagina.

My own body only sometimes does this, produces this aqueous ejaculate when I've had the most fulfilling climax, and I can't believe I've done this to you. I struggle for breath as your juices run into my open mouth, the rest of your come running down my cheeks, my chin, my neck... Do you know that your body is doing this? Can you feel the rush?

I'm in ecstasy with the surging deluge of you as I swallow your come, fucking you with my tongue and then licking all the places I know you love: the base of your vulva, down your taut skin to your anus, then slowly back up to the nub of your clitoris which I concentrate on now, consumed by my libidinous desperation to feel you climax on top of me like this.

I lick you a little more slowly, pausing to suck you, loving the stiff, soft feel of your clit against my tongue, the complete immersion of you in my mouth. When I know the time is right, I reach my hands between your thighs (so wet from your come) and force you up so I can lick you hard and fast. I can hear clearly the squelch, the almost click of my extended tongue on your skin, so arousing. My eyes open, the view of the underside of your breasts, your fingers playing over the curve of them, overwhelms me with arousal.

Your bum is still sticky and smooth as I squeeze you here, the rhythm of my hands matching your body as you get closer. I think again of the difference between giving oral sex to a man like this - the obvious progression of slow, faster, fast to climax - and I love the the contrasting complexity of the way you move. Your movements become increasingly erratic, the incredible stop-start action which especially accompanies the build up to orgasm after so much previous pleasure. Strangely, your fluctuations make far more sense to me: the mechanisms of my own body echoed in yours.

So I easily read the variation of rocking motions as your sudden slowing quickens, I feel the tightening of your thigh muscles as I slide my hands down behind you and grip you here once more. Keeping the pressure of my tongue hard on you, I maintain the velocity of my licks, your rising intonation telling me you're on the edge as you buck against my tongue and I feel your orgasm spread in between your legs, through your wet thighs which press against my face now, and up through the whole of your body - your all-absorbing, drawn-out pleasure which I've fallen in love with.

Then there's the instinctive reaction of your hand pushing my forehead into your pillow, trying to escape my mouth's continued stimulation, your clitoris over-sensitive and exposed as your climax takes you over. But I know this isn't what you want - you don't really want me to stop - so I pull you hard back down onto my face, loosening and slowing my tongue, and you give in to me, oscillating gently now, screams turning back to sighs and deeper breaths.

Have men felt with me as I do with you now? I can't believe what a turn on it is to make you come, how dramatically your orgasms consume every part of your body. Did I know myself until I saw myself in you?

Eventually you slide off me - salty sweet kisses - and you help me remove the sex toy which I drop on the floor next to your bed. We only want the softness of each other's naked bodies now, nothing else.

I wriggle into you, my head pillowed on your shoulder, and your arms pull me close. Despite this sexual awakening, here is the best bit: lying with you, listening to you, talking with you. This time with you has been what I've lived for for so long, the easy pleasure of your company, and I realise I have no idea how much time has passed. This often happens when we're sat opposite each other in a restaurant or cafe: the rest of the world fades around us and time loses its relevance. I can see nothing but you.

We talk about anything and everything as our bodies cool and, as we do, we caress each other with love rather than arousal. As if it has always been this way, I stroke my fingers idly through your pubic hair, run the back of my hand over your stomach, trace your palm and interlace your fingers with mine...

Our bodies are sticky with a confluence of lubricant, sweat and the residual juices we've drawn out from one another - lying with you like this feels even more intimate than sex - yet your suggestion that we have a bath together fills me with new elation.

I love the ease with which we move around each other now as, still completely naked, we run the water, squeeze in the bubble bath, take turns to pee - all the time our arms gently reaching out for one another, pausing to kiss each other softly on the lips: tactile, natural, familiar.

Immersed in the warm water now - our own oasis - we sit at opposite ends of the bath, stroking our hands absent-mindedly up and down each other's interleaved legs, fingers lingering on the silken softness of our bubbly skin, sunlight shimmering across the surface as we talk in our halcyon world. I absorb the serenity of your body abstracted in water, the beams refracting through the haze of your window creating an aura of light which surrounds you: this perfect stillness. How I love the sweet calm of you - just like a dream.

Eventually, we begin to wash each other, soaping our hands and beginning between each other's toes, laughing and wriggling as we discover where we're the most ticklish, the most sensitive. It feels so good to be let into your life, the most private part of your world: you at rest. I think of your fierce independence which attracts me so much - your Dragon trait of wanting to be alone, of pushing others away - and I feel full of the privilege of this closeness to you, my curious, lively Monkey personality drawing you out. And I think how we're the most compatible in every zodiac, and how I feel this inextricable connection with you - all the time - as I stroke my soapy hands up your legs, washing the sensitive skin under your knees, feeling your hands mirrored against my own skin.

Then we're pulling each other up, facing each other on our knees, bubbles wreathing around us as we soap our hands again. Soft touches of love as we traverse the contours if each other's faces: foreheads, noses, cheeks, chins - pausing to kiss each other gently before we tenderly wipe away the soap and progress downwards... Necks, shoulders, arms, backs: lightly scrubbing and massaging, the pearlescent sheen of our bodies feeling smooth and supple. The soothing balm of your touch.

Soaping our hands again, we stroke down one another's chest, decadently moulding each other's breasts into stiff white peaks, adorning each other with translucent bubbles - nipples hardening in spite of ourselves. Still our hands descend, rubbing each other's stomachs, the graceful venture down, down, between each other's legs...

We pause once more to soap our hands, pubic hair softening in lather now, carefully running our finger tips into the dips of skin either side of our clitorises, our labia, our bums, gently probing each hidden orifice, the wonderful audacity of touching and washing every little bit of each other. The inexpressible beauty of the feeling of you.

We didn't mean this act of cleansing to be sexual but, distinctly now, as I slide my soapy fingers to your vulva, I can feel the heat emanating from you... and then I'm acutely aware of a different substance to the creaminess of the soap: slick and visceral - unmistakable - your come covers my frothy fingers and I know now that you're feeling the same between my legs as we stroke little whirlpools up to each other's clits, spiralling back into each other.

Sensual motions, sibilant sighs as we press a little closer - our bodies forming an island paradise - nipples and lips kissing, our free hands slowly exploring each other, white and foamy, as rivulets of soapy water trace pathways down our bodies.

We gaze into each other's eyes, minds eddying, enraptured, as we give in once more to the wildness of our desire, all other thoughts obliterated, only the seductive swirl of our fingertips, the soapy slick lubricant intensifying the feeling as we reheat the water around us. Steamy, volcanic, almost scolding.

Our fingers choreograph as we match each other's rhythm, each other's pressure and I think: some of these motions are how I would touch myself and some are new - your movements - and these merge in our perfect embrace so that the feeling is of enhanced masturbation, a combination of the two of us, the whole greater than the sum of its parts.