Lovers

She's walking toward the wash basin, looking for coolness in the warm weather. Taking the pitcher she fills it with water, splashing her face. He can fight it no longer, walking up behind her. Seeing one of her shoulder straps has fallen down his eyes are drawn to her neck, her most delicious neck. Softly he kisses it, then more greedily. His lips feasting on her delicate neck and shoulders, making her shudder. She turns and they kiss, deeply, passionately... hungrily.

Hungry for love, hungry for each other. Embracing and caressing tightly. Her hands allover his back, digging into his skin, almost as if she wanted to rip it off for herself, to keep it, devour it... or at least mark it as her own. Etching it red in the process. He lifts her up on the counter, kissing his way around her neck, down her neckline. Plunging his tongue into the cleavage of her top, his hands running allover the silk of her lingerie. Enjoying the feel of the soft cool fabric. Then sliding them in underneath, exploring her even softer skin... yet her skin is warm. A hot blooded woman.

Touching her breast, squeezing them, deeply inhaling her scent, his face deep in her cleavage. Licking her skin. He pulls back a little, lifting the thin top up over her head, flinging it away as they kiss. It's hard for her to let him go... but again he buries his face in her bosom, licking tit after tit... inhaling her, feeling her against his cheeks... and then licking downwards, her hands digging into his hair. His tongue exploring the pit of her navel. His lips allover her stomach. Gently he peels off her panties, slowly pulling them along her legs until they drop onto the floor.

Now his true feast begins, kissing his way along her legs, those legs he loves to feel wrapped around him, squeezing him. Kissing, caressing and nibbling on her thighs. Getting impatient she tries to force his head to her centre, only halfheartedly though. She enjoys this game as much as he does. His lips, soft and sensuous, wandering towards her labia. How he loves to feast on that fruit, that lovely, tasty, moist, fresh fruit of hers. So deliciously fleshy and pink. But everything in due time, drawing little patterns on her thigh as he edges toward the pit between her thighs and groin. Dipping his tongue into her fold. Nibbling on her soft skin, she waxes her legs, just for him, and he loves her for it. Loves feeling her skin so close...

Nibbling softly to that fold, playing with the tip of his tongue. Playing around her mound of hair. Digging her fingers deeper and deeper into his hair, he doesn't kiss her lover lips, those full lips, until her fingers turn into nails.

Time to work his tongue in such a fashion that they both enjoy it. He devours her succulent peach, slowly, almost gracefully. Restraining himself to control his hunger. His saliva flowing almost as richly as her sweet wine as his tongue slowly goes deeper. His hands roaming around, roaming over her sweet flesh, her soft skin. He brings her to the brink, again and again. Only to back down. This too is a part of the game.

As he rises she uses her feet to push his underwear down, getting trouble at one point from his erect organ before he helps sort it out. Moving in on her he's ready, truly ready, and all to eager. But the game must go on. He doesn't enter her right away, rather he lets himself play on the outside, rubbing himself in her wetness and hair without entering. Squeezing his parts between them as he leans forward and kisses her. Moving his part as if to enter her but instead rubbing it along her lips, sliding it along her wet lips. Over her clit. Teasing them both until her eyes beg him and he can't stand it anymore.

Slowly sliding into her as she folds, wraps, her legs around him, her hands on his neck. Pushing himself into her fully. Kissing her deeply. Swallowed by her fully. Slowly grinding, she moans with every move, as does he. Having to restrain himself from accelerating into oblivion to quickly, too soon. The game must continue. Her arms, hands and legs like vices, holding him close still he manages to thrust.

Nibbling on his neck as he thrusts, slowly building momentum as her appetite looses control. faster and further. He's holding back, not wanting to loose it too quickly but it's getting difficult. His muscles tensing up he struggles to relax his groin. Focusing on not disappointing her, if he did that he'ld disappoint himself.

Her hands wander down to his bum for a quick squeeze, almost overpowering him, before they wander back to his back. Her nails digging in as she gets closer and closer. The counter's shaking, a violent protest to their violent use of it. The blood her nails are drawing is hardly noticed by him. Obsessing over the process without time for details. When she screams he looses his mind, his control. Shaking together as waves of pleasure tears into them, grabbing each other close trying to find something to hold on to as their world crumbles. Thumping into her as her nails draws his blood. Thrusting into her a few final times, loosing himself in herself...

They draw apart sweaty and content, kissingly looking forward to more times like these... It's only later that he notices the scratches in his back, but it is her way and he'ld never ask for an apology...

He's watching her clean herself, it's almost magical and he sits entranced on the bed. Standing in a small tub she's got a sponge that she soaks and then rubs over herself, the water running down over her skin. His eyes follow every drop, almost making him drool. She knows this, however unselfconscious she seems she knows how she affects him. She soaps up and asks him to bring a pitcher of water to rinse it off.

He tries not to run. Coming back he takes one last look at her soap-covered body before gently letting the water rinse it off, running along her perfect shape and smooth skin. She dries off a little before squatting over the small tub filled with water that's now placed right between her legs.

Rubbing the sponge over her lower self. Running it in between her legs, leaving her mound of hair glistening with moisture as the drops of water travel down between her legs falling back into the small tub. Lathering up that hair for a while, such an adoring sight, before rinsing it clean. The last few drips hanging on for a short while before falling. Drying herself she tells him it's his turn.

He's a little unsure but still why not. He likes showing himself off to her. Proudly undressing he reaches for the sponge but her hand stops him, telling him she's going to do it.

He's taller but she can reach, using the sponge again she covers him briefly in her scent, marking him as her own. Soon she washes it off but he still feels it, feels like he's hers. Soaping him in she reaches everywhere, running her fingers everywhere, but she's careful about his back. Trying not to re-open the wounds she caused.

Carefully she rubs him allover, using her hands to scrub him allover. Even pinching his nipples. He can't stop himself from rising to the occasion, gaining a bemused look from her. Greedily she's rubbing in the soap, his skin is a drug to her fingertips. If he hadn't been covered in soap he'd be covered by her lips.

He's in a trance by her fingers, she's in a trance by his skin. Carefully she lathers up his hairy legs, rubbing his thighs and calves, making him twitch with pleasure as she tells him not to move.

Moving up again she does his buttocks thoroughly, more than needed, before filling up the pitcher and gently pouring the water over him. He's shivering under the small waterfall, delighting in it. She stands amazed at his skin, staring transfixed at it, running her fingers over it as the water runs out.

He turns and smiles at her, catching her in the act. Always delighted to see her staring at him, even more so when she does it naked. He leans towards her but she leans away, telling him he doesn't get to kiss her just yet and if he doesn't follow her game he might not get to at all. Roughly rubbing him off a little she then tells him to squat like she did.

Smilingly obeying she kneels next to him and immediately goes for his groin, for his ready member. Soaking the sponge and then wringing it out over his crotch, watching the water flow over and down it. Soaking it again she rubs it allover his groin, his staff, his sack. Wrapping it around his member and pulling it up and down a few times.

She lathers it in thoroughly, roughly, pulling at his member enough to almost make him go cross-eyed. Then she rinses it off, pouring water over his by now over-heated member. He barely has time to dry himself off before they're lying in bed together, limbs wrapped around each other.

Neither really has any endurance for further games but some appetites cannot be rushed, torturous slowness being part of the desire, passion's game.

Kissing his way downwards, over those curves he loves, that landscape of wondrous pleasure and infinite excitement which is what her form means to him.

He helps her lift a leg up into the air, so that he can kiss and caress it more easily. Enjoying it more. Her freshly washed mound, her fertile valley is like a magnet to him, charming both his eyes and hands, and evermore charming to his tongue, dragging it to her. Spreading her legs he prepares his tongues assault, but this time she's to quick for him. He's half-sitting and she pushes him down on his back. In a second she's the one on top, lying over him, holding him down as her lips feast on his flesh.

Nibblingly she devours him, neck and shoulders, nipples an chest, wandering down to his navel. When she finds his jungle she almost gets lost in it. Twirling her fingers in it... before kissing his sleeping serpent... even though it was awakened in the bath it's even more ready now. Her butterfly kisses on it sending shivers through his spine.

Her hands on his sack she's kissing his lower region awake and agile. He finds it almost intolerable and soon he turns her down so that he might taste her freshly rinsed fruit. Her jungle more attractive to him than ever. Lapping his way to her valley, up thighs he wants to bite. There's a cannibalism to love-making, one devours the other with caresses and is eaten away by kisses. No where is this more obvious then in oral sex.

She doesn't want to be singularly devoured so they find a solution, lying side by side they devour each other. As her lips embrace his sceptre his tongue delves into her apple, her ripe peach.

As they both approach he begs her to go slower as he's about to loose it, her only answer is she wants him to. They roll around so he ends up underneath, lying close together his hands caress her bum. Her lovely bum... She plays with, fondles, his balls. her fingers going as far down as between his cheeks, fingering the lowest part of his sack, playing with it as she swallows his member. His eager tongue now exploring her upside down, running it's underneath against her rosebud. Feeling it's erection against it's smoothness. He could lick her for days if she'ld let him.

Twitches are running inside his legs, it's hard for him to keep it in. To make her come quicker he licks some fingers before gently inserting them, first one and then two. Caressing her deeper than he can with his tongue. He finds the spot and she shudders. Shaking. Moaning they work harder, straining themselves for each other.

He explodes first, giving her of himself, she devours it greedily, a token of his love. When sanity returns, doing so slowly he redoubles his efforts. Eventually, quite soon, he's rewarded by her climax, by her vibrating on top of him. Relaxing and straining, arching and collapsing as each wave shudders through her from top to bottom. Shuddering until they're both just lying there, each other's blankets. The comfort of warm skin. His fingers teasingly playing along her sweaty back... hers playing in the hair on his legs...

Evening comes and they're lighting candles, big ones and small ones. He can't help but be charmed by the way she looks as she walks around in the buff, candlelight the only source of light upon her skin. The soft light makes her want him even more than during the day. He's the thirst she can never extinguish fully, only temporary. She's the temptation that rules his soul.

Returning to their sturdy bed they kiss, a bit softer now than during the day but desire and wantonness still guides their tongues. She isn't straddling him fully, more just straddling one leg, one of her legs rubbing against his sack.

He lifts that leg so that it rubs more against her wondrous hair. Rubbing legs, thighs, against privates they keep kissing, stopping being the last thing they want to do. Greedy hands holding heads firm, keeping lips together. Greedy caresses over hungry skin, skin hungering for touch, for a lover's touch... the more it's touched the hungrier it gets.

She's getting liquid against his thigh, he's getting firm against her thigh. Her scent on his skin... sometimes he wishes he could drown in it.

Leaving a wet trail she slides upwards on him, offering her neck and then bosom to his eager mouth. She loves her bosom, loves drowning him in it. Squeezing her breast against his cheeks, around his nose and mouth. Teasing him with her nipples. Sliding down again she drags her chest against his, sliding down for a kiss and then kissing down his neck, his fingers exploring her hair.

Her hands over his head, neck and chest she nibbles on his nipples. Harder and harder, making him groan when she finally starts using her teeth. Smilingly she bites him, nibbling her way over his chest and leaving marks, her marks. Her claims of ownership. Red bite marks to show she's been there.

Nibbling her way downwards, laying claim to new pieces of skin. New and old. Old because she's seen and devoured it so many times since passion brought them into bed together, new because each time she does it she's re-discovering it. Re-claiming it. This time she only views it, leaving it's caresses to the hands and kissing the lower stomach instead.

Pumping it slowly as she examines his sack, fondling it with light squeezes. A delightful torture for him, all he can do is to caress her head and lean back in pleasure. Smilingly she tortures him with delight. Working him to her pleasure.

She rises partly and slides up him, straddling his legs and rubbing herself against them. Leaving more of her juices as a mark, scent marking him like she was a cat... there is something feline about her, about her gracefulness and eagerness to be caressed. About the way she sometimes just supposes that he'll do what she asks, that he'll be there for her... yet her requests are never frivolous, she knows just what to ask... and she knows that had she continued to just tease him it would've been to much to ask that he not move, so she changes her tease, she wants to ride him this time.

Sliding up on him she rubs herself against him, against his member, groin to groin. Her lower lips drooling over the prize they'll soon get to devour. But she teases both him and herself.

Holding him firmly against her mound she grinds her clit against his member. Smiling at him while holding his member, again and again teasing him with pretending to be about to insert it but only dipping the tip.

Smiling back his patience runs out and he gently pulls her down on him, entering her completely and pulling her down to kiss and nibble on her neck before her tongue penetrates his mouth as deeply as he is entering her. Kissing closely, body to body. Grinding ever so slightly. Embracing each other so hard it's as if they're trying to absorb one another, to fuse, melding together. But isn't that love's ultimate goal? To be as one?

Pushing back a little with her hands on his shoulders and her nails almost getting into them she starts to ride him, gleefully making him into her toy. As he's running his fingertips up and down her spine like he's playing an instrument. Slowly caressing it lightly, playing it, along it. Raising her spine like a cat she leans down and kisses him, even nibbling a little on his lips.

Their rhythm's languid but it's getting quicker. As passion and desire replace playfulness. As breathing gets deeper. As tensions and inner pressure rise. As the quest for release gets more and more urgent. As her nails dig further into his skin. As his hands squeeze her bum harder and harder. Pressing her down harder and harder each time.

He can't resist rolling her over on her back, his pelvis working harder and harder. Grinding himself into her as she folds her legs around him. Lowering himself to kiss her he starts sliding up and down her instead. He rises up again for more thrust, her hips doing everything to accommodate him. Soon her fingers find the morning's wounds, unthinking she first re-opens them but soon instead pushes him over on his back. This time it's her turn to rule.

Relaxing a very short minute a compromise is reached and they spoon. Slowly, kissing and nibbling at her neck, he enters her from behind. Caressing her erect clit with one hand.

Slowly they stay there, maintaining rhythm and excitement while postponing gratification. Enjoying their stay at that platform together, staying on the cliff before taking the plunge over the fence and down into the abyss known as le petite mort. Just being one for once. Almost not wanting to leave. Just slowly maintaining and building pressure. Grinding, thumping just enough.

Their hips in close harmony, their bodies so close that their sweat is mixing. Skin to skin. As he nibbles on her back, kissing now and then when she strains her neck to make it almost possible. Such a position builds desire without ever quenching it.

But she wants to take him, to ride him. Back on his back she rides him again, showing him only the curvature of her spine and her delicious neck... the neck which owes it's beauty mostly to the fact that it is so sensitive to the touch and kiss... leaning forward to caress his feet.

But soon she tires, wanting to look him in the eyes. She turns around on top of him in a move that almost pushes him instantly over the edge, only his strenuous effort preventing it.

His hands wandering over her torso before she leans down to kiss him, tracing that curvature that he loves to kiss. Before the kiss he looks into her eyes and knows that this is it, no more delay. Kissing deeply while holding tight they pause for a moment before starting the final push.

Accelerating to push the other over as soon as possible but neither wants to give in first. In her eyes the demand for conquest, in his the need to prove his provess as a lover. He knows it and yet he wants to prove it each time. Not for his own sake but for the sake of his lover.

Biting his lip he's trying to hold it back, trying to keep his dam from bursting. She's shaking on top of him, shuddering with the combined effort of keeping back and riding him hard. Tension building until both are just waiting for tendons to snap they both loose it.

Who comes first would have to be measured in milliseconds but come they do and with a vengeance. He's arching his back as it feels like he's exploding into her, she's arching her back just before she feels like she's shaking apart on top of him. Waves going through one body and continuing into the next as they both plunder their hidden dephts of pleasure with each new twitch. Her nails in his shoulders. The more they plunder the more they embrace, sinking together through all the layers of le petite mort.

Infinitesimally drained of energy as they collapse into a heap having pushed and exerted themselves to the limit. The last few strokes leaving him completely empty, a blank space devoid of energy. neither's mind has really returned yet. Feeling nothing but relaxation, exhaustion and love. Peaceful love for one another. Even though it takes them a while to get their breaths back enough for them to kiss, just lying there panting for a long while. Most importantly for them just lying there together, close together.