A Birthday Wish for TwobyThe_Maestro_Braddock©
This veers a bit towards Romantic, so I struggled where to put it. Ultimately, there is some mild dirty talk so I went Erotic Coupling. Just know though this is a bit more sweet and lighter than my typical fare.
He sits, shirtless, almost vibrating with anticipation on the chair in his room. He fiddles with his handcuffs a bit, letting a slight smile cross his lips. I am more than a little surprised he agreed to this, but then there have been more than a few moments I thought none of this could ever happen.
I stroll into the room, vamping it up for his visual appreciation. I feel his eyes on me, scanning me from head to toe, from my peekaboo toe heels up my bare legs over the skin tight emerald lace boy shorts and thin strapped tanktop ensemble I bought specifically for this moment. His eyes lock on mine and for the first time neither of us make an effort to hide our desire. His naked lust for me sends a pleasureable chill through my every cell.
I sit on his lap with an accidental noise I can only label a purr. My arm just touches his bare chest and I can barely suppress a shudder of undiluted arousal. "Happy Birthday," I whisper and smile, producing a piece of cake from behind my back.
He looks at me quizzically while I try to keep my features as unreadable as possible. I begin to feed him forkfuls of the cake until one piece falls off before it reaches his mouth, tumbling down his chest to the floor, leaving a dollop of frosting on his left nipple.
Casting the plate aside, I slide off his lap onto my knees. I let my tongue trail across his abs removing small crumbs and bits of frosting until I reach his nipple. I take it quickly into my mouth, spinning my tongue around it, removing the frosting. He gasps and pulls against his chains. In a hesitant murmur, he implores me, "Harder."
I honor the request, sucking with more vigor and, feeling him respond to that, begin to bite with increasing pressure. I lay my hand in his lap and feel his want rise. I delight the sensation of him growing thicker and rigid just from my tongue, mouth, and teeth on his nipple.
I release his nipple finally and rise as he whimpers a mix of appreciation and disappointment. I bend in front of him, sure to give him a free view down my shirt at my firm breasts, and release his cuffs. Before he can take advantage of his new freedom I shove him onto the bed and straddle him, playfully, gently, grinding down against him.
"What do you want?" I breathe in his ear, taking in his scent.
He simply replies, "You."
"Yes, but what do you want to do with me?"
I can feel him blush, hot and embarrassed, below me. He giggles as he tries to summon the words. I can almost feel the tension between his wish to verbalize what he wants and the psychological scars she left him with. I let him off the hook, confiding, "Well, I know what I want you to do...I want you to fuck me."
We both laugh, recalling the uncomfortable moment he heard those words said to his roommate by some random girl when they thought he was asleep his freshman year of college. I hope he gets the message...he can tell me what he wants, exactly what he wants, and sex can be fun, dirty...whatever. Not just the serious, staid endeavor he was forced to grow used to.
"Well then," he replies, voice big with happiness, "Even if it is my birthday, I suppose I can honor that request."
I kiss him deeply then, confirming my appreciation and desire. As I feel his hand begin to slide up the back of my shirt, I teasingly spring off him.
"But first," I proclaim, "We need to clean up."
I leave the room, stripping off my clothes and leaving him a trail to follow me to the shower. Being naked before him for the first time feels delicious. The wait to get here was so painful but being here, now, it feels completely worth it.
Moments after I slide under the warm spray, he pushes through the steam to join me. Wordlessly, we come together, naked body against naked body, the heat of us mingling with the heat of the water. I cannot feel enough of him against me, cannot touch enough of him with my hands. Our mouths gasp and seek out any bit of flesh to taste: lips, cheeks, ears, necks, shoulders before returning to kiss one another with abandon.
For the first time ever, I allow myself to touch the part of him I had long fantasized about the size, look, and feel of for so long. He did not disappoint.
He groaned out his thanks, "Oh god, Jen, your hand feels amazing."
"It's about to get better," I assure him and lower myself to my knees before him. I catch myself wondering if she ever did this for him, if she might be good or, even scarier, better than me. Catching his anticipatory gaze, however, drives all such thoughts out of my mind. She is long gone now, just like my anchor, and they no longer matter a whit. We want only each other and we are finally realizing that long held barely dared to be spoken dream.
I take him in my mouth with a happy hum and his rapidly increased breathing confirms my decision to leave the past in the past. His clean masculinity fills my senses and I let myself get lost in it. His cock, (mmm, how delicious a word), becomes like my plaything. I drag my nails up and down it lightly, I twirl my tongue over it from root to head, I take it as deep as I can in my mouth, against my throat, enjoying the sensation of my mouth almost being too full. He tenderly guides me towards heightening his pleasure with light touches through my red hair, cut Mia Farrow style, and on my face and whispered and moaned requests thick with deep gratitude and need.
As he nears ever closer to climax, I can hear his breathe hitch and become scattered. His voice rises in pitch and volume and he begins to warn me of what I am doing to him. I do not shy away. I want this. I need it, I realize. We both do. A blowjob appreciated without quibble by both parties.
"It's okay," I promise him, "Cum for me."
The look of almost-joy on his face nearly breaks my heart. His happiness becomes my own. His body tightens and coils and I can see him resisting his bodily impulses.
"Go ahead, Tom," I push him, "You can be rough."
He moans at my words, his body language betraying his increased lust. He places his hands more firmly on me and urges me to go faster and harder. I delight in him overcoming his guilt and fear at demanding what he wants.
"Oh god! Oh god!" he pants above me and thrusts forward quick and intense. His passion bursts out of him and down my throat, surprisingly sweet. I pull him out to regain my breath and stroke him continuously, guiding streams of translucent white onto my face and breasts where the jetstreams of water quickly wash it away down the drain. He reaches for the wall to steady himself, signaling to me he is spent.
When I returned to my feet, he immediately reaches for me and pulls me tight against him. He whispers an out of breath thank you and I am relieved to realize that he too is escaping our collective past. The kiss that follows is full of appreciation and lust in equal measures and given without hesitation. I gasp and melt into his arms. Time just dissipates around us and we give ourselves over to the eternal joy of making out. The water going ice cold proves to be the only thing to disrupt us.
He exits it first and immediately wraps me in a towel as I enter the bathroom. It is warm and heavy and soft. Meticulously he sets about drying me head to foot. He massages my hair and head, leaving me cooing. Then, the rest of my body, spending perhaps a bit too long on my breasts and ass but moving on with a sly grin before I can call him on it. Eventually he parts my legs and drops the towel, sliding his fingers up until he finds one part of me that the towel cannot, should not, dry.
I sigh and then moan. Heat radiates through me and I go lightheaded. With a giggle I let myself fall on him, a tangle of limbs. He twists and turns gently laying me on the large bathroom rug. I prop myself on my elbows and watch as he kisses his way up my body, starting at my feet. He nibbles the underside of my knees, a surprisingly pleasurable experience. Unconsciously, I begin to stroke my own breasts and pinch my nipples. I catch him watching me and immediately shrink away. He shakes his head, and moves my hands back to my breasts.
"It's beautiful," he reassures me, give me a gentle but insistent kiss, his tongue seeking and massaging my own.
He returns to between my legs and I more brazenly grope myself, enjoying his hungry gaze.
"Tease," he whispers.
"Are you complaining?" I shoot back.
He holds my eyes and drags his tongue across my sex and swiveling around my clit. I hiss and gasp at the sensation. I swear I can see stars fuzzing my vision.
"Good?" he asks and I can only moan and nod, my mouth slightly agape, tongue peeking out. He smiles and begins again.
I lasciviously moan as he enthusiastically and thoughtfully goes down on me. His tongue dips deeply into my pussy (yessss...another tasty word) tasting my desire. Soon, his fingers join his tongue, curling into my g-spot as he sucks my clit. I thrash about, orgasm following orgasm in a cacophony of cresting passion.
"Oooh, Tom! Oh god, Tom! Yessss! So goooooood!" I babble continuously, ravaging my nipples and running my hand through my hair. As I cum more and more intensely, both hands grab ahold of his head and force him harder against me. He moaned his approval and redoubles his efforts before pulling back and only gently teasing me, giving me a short break to catch my breath.
As I come back down, I hear a rhythmic thumping. With much effort, I lift my head and focus my cloudy vision on him, seeing his arm moving up and down.
"Are you...are you touching yourself?" I pant.
He locks with me and nods, refusing to take a break from bringing me pleasure.
I can only gasp in response and grit my teeth. After a year of a man who pleasured me with a distinct lack of pleasure and was so riddled with insecurity that he could barely get naked for sex, nevermind let me know how sexy he sees me by touching himself before me, my arousal cannot help but be ratcheted upward by his brazenness. It's so different than with...him...the other guy...my past. He's so comfortable in this moment which in turn leaves me feeling more comfortable than I ever have before. I cum hard again, back bridging involuntarily, my sex mashing against his face while he hums his empathetic joy.
The tension releases from me in a rush and I flop loose on the floor, gently moving him away from me with one leg while begging, "Enough...please...so...so sensitive." He crawls upward, dragging his naked body over mine. I grab his face and kiss him impatiently. The taste of me all over his lips and tongue, in his mouth, is oddly exhilarating.
"Good?" he asks again, blue eyes twinkling.
"Mmmm hmm," I respond, biting my lip and averting my eyes. I look down my body and see the deep blush cast across my pale skin. As I cool, I feel the perspiration sheen over my body. He spoons into me, nibbling my shoulder, and tasting the salt of my sweat. I kiss him again and snake my hand down his body, seeking out his unyielding member. I enjoy his quick intake of breath as I make contact and began to stroke him gently.
"Feel good?" I whisper in his ear, tongue alighting around the exterior.
He whimpers, "Yesssss."
"You made me so wet," I confess.
"You always make me so hard," he one ups me, "Just seeing you fully clothed across the room."
"Are you ready?"
"So, so ready."
"I...I'm sorry?" he hesitates.
"Tell me what you want."
"I want to..." he pauses, still struggling with all that past shame before breaking through, "I want to fuck you, Jen."
"Goooooooooood," I moan, "I want that too."
I kiss him then and hop to my feet with a giggle, "But first you have to catch me!"
I'm off like a shot, laughing and sprinting down the hall, delighting in being naked with this man, thrilling to him watching my long lean body disappearing into his room, knowing his eyes are devouring me.
I leap onto his bed backwards and let him see me trail my fingers between my legs and slip between my pink lips. From the doorway, I see him standing, cock bouncing lewdly in front of him with the beat of his heart. I beckon him forward with one shiny finger and he crosses the room in two long confident strides.
He dangles his body over mine and stares into my eyes. I grab him with one slick hand and guide him inside me. Our moans mingle together as slowly pushes deep within me. He bottoms out and holds himself in that position.
"Go ahead," he commands gently.
In response I begin to rotate my hips, grinding my clit against him, sparks of desire bouncing up and down my nerve endings. I beg him to move against me but still he holds and bids me to use him. I grind harder and more frantically until I climax loud and messily.
"Please," I implore him, "Please, Tom, fuck me."
This time he does not deny me, pulling back and thrusting forward. I wrap my legs languidly around his back and he groans appreciatively.
"I love feeling you all around me," he whispers to me.
I reply, "I love you," before I have a chance to stop myself.
Without hesitation, he says the same and I know that our dance of denial, of staying faithful, of clinging to dying relationships despite every reason to jump has proven worth it. I only regret it took us both so long.
His body presses into me, our hips begin to drive and retract in time with each other. Our lips by each other's ears, whispering our dirty lusts, our fantasies, to each other. For minutes we do nothing but yield to the feeling of our bodies coming together, enjoying the taste of each other, watching us fuck one another. Our hands explore each other, groping with blind abandon, trying to make up for lost time as if there would never be another chance.
"Will you cum inside me?" I tentatively ask, blushing a deep, dark crimson.
"Is...is that what you want?" he hedges.
"Yes...please! Never let...anyone before, but...pleasssssssssse," I beg.
He says nothing in response, but alters his stroke to go deeper inside me.
"Harder!" I demand of him, "Faster!"
"Oh god," he groans, "Feel so good, Jen."
"Cum for me, Tom! Cum!"
"Oh god," I think aloud, very loud, "I'm fucking you. I'm finally fucking you!"
His fingers find my clit, firmly tracing a circle over it. I grit my teeth and attempt to hold on.
"Cum," he urges, his voice telling me not to resist.
"Yesssssssssss!" I scream, my climax obliterating everything but the sensation of his body against my own.
Moments later, he mutters, "Cumming." I can feel every muscle under his skin tighten as if electricity is rippling through his body. Then, I could feel it, a wet, pulsing explosion propelling me to a smaller climax.
He collapses on me and rolls off. I catch a few drops of our comingled fluids and lick it off my fingers, making a note to taste it again and soon. He wraps his arm around and pulls me towards him. I drape my leg over him and feel the satisfying slick feeling of our sweat merging. We lay together gasping for breath and gazing at one another.
"Happy birthday," I whisper and kiss his neck.
A silence fills the room as we just enjoy the culmination of overcoming years of avoiding our feelings and dedicating ourselves to bad relationships out of misplaced loyalties.
Then, he nuzzles my hair and breathes, "You know, it's only 11:15."
"Uh-huh..." I reply, my voice riddled with confusion.
"Well, I'm just saying, it's still my birthday..."
I push myself up on one elbow and stare at him. "Insatiable?" I ask, eyebrows arching.
"For you," he confirms.
"Good answer," I reply, straddling him. And so began the second time of our lives together that we made love.