Thighs spread and hands grasping two curls of the platinum metal, she kneels for him at the head of the bed. As she arches her back, the soft light streaming in from the other room falls across the curves of her bare petite form. Climbing up behind her, he kisses up the length of her back to her neck, their mouths and tongues at last meeting, melting and merging as he presses in his hard nakedness. With one strong smooth hand around her pert breast and the other slowly feeding his thick pulsating cock into her dripping sex, their wait is finally over.
He wants his eyes on my body, and his alone. He does not care to share. He does not desire for my attention divided. He needs me all to his lustful greedy self, to gaze upon and touch, to kiss and lick and finger and fuck, to consume, to control, to possess.
And right now, I want the same.
We are on the precipice. Mouths, lips, increasingly hot breath, mingling, taunting, teasing.
We playfully brush against each other, carrying on our conversation, extending the moment before we plunge into the bliss.
Into the inviting opening I utter simple words, everyday words, enjoying the way each one changes the shape of my mouth, the way each one touches then pulls away from the perfect peaks in front of me.
I speak softly, my thumb now mapping the seductive curve of your smile. I whisper words of now, words of then, words of what will come. You murmur filthy salacious somethings, deeds that will be done. We sigh, whimper and moan as words snake into sound.
When we can bear it no longer, our lips give in and meet. Hands wind through my curls, fingers caress your nape, soft playful kisses with little hints of tongue, as we finally dive into a long deep wetness that goes on and on and on.
To be lost in sensation, to be lost in the tangle of pleasure. To be lost in a sea of mouths and tongues and hands and arms and legs and cocks and searing skin and flesh. To be lost as we slip and slide and slither together, a delectably indiscriminate mass of pure abandon and pulsation. To be lost in the moment as one thick hard cock slides into my wet little cunt, one more into my tight pink rosebud, yet another through my lips into my hot eager mouth, two others enveloped in my excited hands. To be lost as we devour and consume, languid then insistent tongues tasting, drinking, hands and fingers stroking, mauling, taking, fucking. To be lost in the sounds of voracious desire, the sighs, the moans, the whimpers, the groans. To be lost in the frenzied, primal union of bodies, juices, sweat, saliva and come.
To be lost is surely to be found.
This is all there is. This is all that matters. His body, his words, his carnal desire.
And his hot rumbling voice pleading me to use him up while detailing the countless ways I will be his dirty little fucktoy.
It begins with an innocent double click. With the attachment finally open, her eyes grow wide, jaw drops, lips part; the space between her legs begins to throb.
Forgetting the public surroundings, she stares unashamedly at the picture-filled screen, moving in as close as she can before the photograph disappears into a mass of coloured pixels.
Standing by the rumpled bed they had marked only a few hours earlier, he is wearing the suit that always makes her swoon. Charcoal single-breasted jacket, crisp white shirt, flat front trousers, heavy leather belt, all topped off with his unmistakably cheeky grin.
And his big strong hand around his growling angry cock.
You. Dark hair, chocolate eyes, six foot two. You.
I’ve seen you glancing, glimpsing, looking. I’ve seen you watching, stare unflinching, gaze undressing.
I’ve seen the way your eyes consume my curves, eat up my form. I’ve seen the way they run along my collarbone, around the swell of my breasts, hugging my hips, devouring my legs, my arse, my purring little puss.
I’ve seen the way you shift as I enter the room, the way you lick your lips. I’ve seen the way you teasingly scratch your stomach, fingers trailing down the line of fuzz that leads to the manly musk below.
I’ve seen you too. I’ve noticed you also.
Now what do you plan to do about it?
He moves up silently behind her, his presence at first a suggestion rather than a certainty.
She closes her eyes and excitedly exhales in anticipation of his touch. One finger languidly traces the strip of her freshly showered skin peeking out from between her girlish pink knickers and lilac tank.
Legs now invitingly parted, she stands eagerly awaiting the next touch.
When she least expects it that same finger hooks and twists itself so tightly into the right side of the waistband her sensitive clit begins to purr.
Standing there, I see him gradually being overtaken by it. I can see it, feel it, crawling through his flesh, rising up to his skin. I can smell it coming off his body.
Suddenly against me, he tries to explain. This is what he has become, he whispers closely, fingertips grazing my neck. This is what he has become against his will, against the reasoning part of his mind. There is nothing but the hunger, the desire, the need.
It is a need, he says gently leaning me into the wall with his overwhelming frame. It is a need and not a want or a wish or a whim that might be pushed down or away. It cannot, will not, be replaced or displaced.
It will not leave him, it will not leave him be. The need transforms, changes, alters beyond all recognition, his mouth murmurs, the tempting weight of his body pressed firmly into mine. As evidentiary proof he places my hand on his rapidly beating chest, carefully guiding it down his stomach to the growing swell below. Pulsing through the fabric prison, he is, at once, hunter and prey, willing victim and rebellious target, give and take.
And how he wants to give and take, he tells me, thumb tracing over my moist and parted lips. Give and take, take and give, now easing my willing legs apart with his own. Take, take, take, his tongue exploring me, consuming me. Give, give, give, grinding his hips slowly, rhythmically.
I need to feel, he breathes hoarsely, my small breasts engulfed by inquisitive hands. Running his generous hardness along my aching sex, he shows me the need to feel the flesh and heat of another.
Softness and wetness urge him on as his hands coil round my creamy thighs to cup a plump and eager mons. My softness, my wetness are his needs. I oblige on both counts as his fingers lightly dance along the sheen and gracefully work their way in.
I need to feel and smell and taste you with everything I am. Breathing hard, our pleasure winding, building, I set him free. Fingers circle his swollen glistening head before my hand works his throbbing length. Urgent teeth rip through foil, his rigid cock swiftly encased in a shiny rubber sheath.
As we stand there against the wall, pressed into each other, needing more, needing it all, I finally break. Now breathing, spoken, embodied, it overpowers me. It reaches out of me, for me. For him. I need you, I need you, I need you inside me, it makes me beg, plead, moan.
Hungrily, I slide my juices along his erect shaft placing him at my slick entry. Greedily, he feeds his thickness into my tight wet cunt as we groan simultaneously.
But before we begin, before we begin moving, thrusting, slapping, fucking, moaning, gasping, grunting, screaming, before we ravenously paw at each other’s flesh forcing in more, more, more, before I demand he fucks me harder, harder, fuck me harder, before we can barely hold ourselves back waiting to hear the sweet cries of come for me, come for me, come all over me, come inside me, before we call out to one another when we finally break, before the voracious beginning and the sated end, we stand perfectly silent and still.
We stand joined together against the wall clutching, throbbing, vibrating, seeing each other, seeing into each other, breathing in one another, breathing as one, skin on skin, skin becoming skin. We stand joined together in a primal, awakening rush.
We stand merged together finally understanding the force of this need. And at this moment it is the only thing that truly matters.
Time shifts, space bends, sound drains away. Suspended in slow motion, their each step an open possibility.
Shameless lust, unconcealed desire. Fixed, dilated stares, small, flirtatious smiles. Brazenly undressing one another as they brush by.
Horn blares, moment shattered. Lost in an instant, both swallowed up by the city crowd.