The Draw...

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The games you play.
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"Morning."

"Mmmm."

Our lips meet, only you've woken up quicker than quick. My delicate, never erring fingers have found you and the feel of my hand and fingers gently touching your suddenly swelling cock is pure electricity and the most sublime calm. You immediately want/need/HAVE to be in me. Only you don't want that at least not right away. There's so much that will be missed with a quick fix and delayed gratification always builds the biggest, best crescendos with you.

It never matters how often we feel the need to make love. It never matters how often we do make love. We never rush into/through it. Oh, there's parts and times that are a blur of heat sensations and mind-losing shocks of pure ecstasy, but those are found and felt and later savored as a consequence of our intertwined sexual brinkmanship.

What started as an innocent "what a great way to start our day" kiss has segued into full passionate contact, our lips melding together as our bodies melt together. You can feel my nipples against your chest hardening. The mind is such a masterful sex organ. Why should these teeny, tiny spots of contact against your bare chest excite you so and so much more, for the knowledge of what this excitement can build and lead to. Your hands are immediately up into my hair. My senses are ariot with longing to know all of you ALL at once. Impossible, but yet that is the instinctual goal each and ever time we touch. Even innocently when we're out in public. One of these times....

My head feels so tiny in your hands. So delicate. Your fingertips glide lightly across my scalp while you feel the weight and smooth silkiness of my hair slide though your palms. You close your hands, taking two fistfuls of my hair, pulling gently but steadily. It's not pain, it's not control. It's the IDEA of pain and control. It COULD hurt. You COULD be commanding, driving my head wherever you want it. Right now you want it right in front of yours. Only the surprise of the pressure on the roots has shocked me, and my head pulls back reflexively, to ease that sudden, shocking pressure. And then my head comes forward, maybe not with a vengeance, but certainly with determination. The sudden shock has been replaced in a New York nanosecond with that hurts-so-good feeling that Mellencamp describes so well. Can a human HAVE tiger lips?

Your teeth are still safely behind your lips. But it feels as if your lips have teeth. They are attacking mine, like they mean to conquer...or please beyond compare. Your lips are so hungry on mine it feels like you're trying to ingest/assimilate all of me through your lips. Oh! and through all the pores and orifices on the front of your body. I feel like one of those amoebas or parameciums or whatever that science movies used to show in school; cell division, only the cell is the whole animal. Two for one, just like that! Only this feels like that in REVERSE!

You tighten your fists in my hair, pull my head back, breaking contact with my lips. I squeak, but you've learned it's shock, not hurting pain. "Not so fas..." you start. Caught in the moment, you've forgotten two can play the 'I can tighten my hand to get your attention' game. Your eyes cross as your throat slams shut and your pain/pleasure meter goes off the charts. You know your cock isn't broken, but when/how did I manage to get my other hand down among your dangly things? My nails have brought liquid fire to your sac! You may be momentarily speechless, but your groan of pleasure speaks volumes. Some nearsighted fool would say we're in the midst of a Mexican stand-off, but we each know better. My hair would grow back, but your stuff would take their place among the dodos and dinosaurs. Your hands relax a bit. My eyes are no longer Oriental as a consequence. The look in my eyes; pure, delighted, 'large-and-in-charge,' imp. "Whatcha gonna do, lover? Want me to break your widdle toy?" I say in a teasing baby voice. Too late, I realize I've used the wrong word.

AND I've forgotten just how fast you can move when properly motivated. You roll your weight and body up and over me, pinning me under you. There's that tiny, parting loss of contact of my nails on/in your balls as my arms are nowhere near long enough to make that reach with you flattening me beneath you.

"Get....off....me....you....big....lug!" It takes me awhile to get that out.

"Now, are you going to behave? Or am I going to...?" You trail off as you reach down and lightly tickle my sides.

My head snapping forward in shock and just misses smashing your nose. You like the way I move under you. "You ready to behave like a good girl?" You ask as you nibble and lick and kiss all around my ear, not forgetting to blow ever-so-gently into it, then finishing with a wet poke with the end of your tongue.

It's like you'd wired me up to high voltage. Somehow (and this doesn't really surprise you, but it is a surprise nonetheless) my sudden squirming has managed to place your hard rod between my hot thighs. You can feel me against your groin, feel your balls hanging against my tender inner thigh, feel the heat on the head of your shaft emanating from that inferno between my legs. And you know I've managed to do this deliberately, even while pinned underneath you. My, my. There is something to be said about being 'insatiable.' In our case, doubly so.

You ease up a bit. Just as you knew would happen, my hand is on your swollen cock in a flash. My touch is magic. My touch is electric. My touch is...heaven. I squeeze. Then I stroke it, pulling lightly up and down. With my hand firmly holding way down your quivering manhood, I put the head of your cock against the rubbery fire of my lower lips. Insatiable.

I start to pull/push you into my so-very-hot-box, but you pull back, keeping yourself from entering me. You know I want you (NOW) as much as you want me, but this denial only builds desire and fire.

"Gimme!!!"

"You sure you want a 'widdle' toy?"

"Yesssss! It's not so little anymore..."

"Aren't you the one who always says 'size doesn't matter?"

"YOUR size matters..."

"Really..."

"C'mon...GIMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEE!"

All the while, I'm pulling/pushing you, forcing you, into me with growing frantic desire. You keep pulling back. The games people play...

"No. Not until you ask nice. You DO remember how to ask nice, don't you?"

"Gimmeee! Gimmmee! Gimmmeee!"

Now You hold yourself back entirely. I'm nowhere near strong enough to force my way. My eyes have a little shock in them as I realize I can't so much as budge you. You just hang there, above me, impervious to whatever it is I try to do. My eyes go all puppydog heartbroken on you in an instant. I know how heartrending that look is--it makes you want to do ANYthing for me.

"Oh, no you don't! I'm not looking!" And you close your eyes.

From somewhere far below you, you hear a very tiny pleading voice:

"please???"

"Please?....what?"

"Please..."

"Yes? Please what?"

"Please me....Please, please me...." The Beatles never said it better.

"How do you want me to please you?"

"You KNOW."

"Remind me...maybe I'm not remembering right."

"Cut the crap! You know what I want. You want it too!!!!"

"That's not being nice." You begin to slowly roll off me.

"Noooo! Stop....Please?"

You stop. Settle back above me as I look into your beautiful, intelligent, mischievous, loving eyes.

"OK. That better?"

"yes"

"So...how can I please you?"

"Please..."

"PLEASE WHAT?!..."

"All right, all right...Please fuck me. Please!! Fuck me, make love to me..."

You slide into me. I think it's a draw, who's most satisfied...and the slow, rapturous love-making begins. We'll fuck and suck and caress and kiss and nip and touch. Over and over again. Always the same and always oh-so new. My lips find yours as my arms wrap around your shoulders tugging you tighter. You feel my breasts pressing into your chest.We fall into the cadence, the rhythm of our love-making like we've been doing it forever.

Maybe we have....

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