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by Silkyrose
You wake me with a finger trace across my ankle, circling
the joint there. You know my skin is highly sensitive and a little ticklish;
I like it when you take advantage of that.
You bend your head against the flesh there and murmur things; anything;
I can’t tell what it is. You could be telling me that you don’t
want to go to work tomorrow, that you don’t want to answer the phone;
that you don’t want anything at all but me. You breathe there at
my vulnerable ankle, while I pretend that I am sleeping. You trail your
lips and cheeks along my shin, the back of my calf, and pause at the back
of my knee. I feel you breathe my scent in; I know I still smell of the
peach oil I dabbed there in preparation for last night.
I prepared myself for you yesterday afternoon; in the shower I scrubbed
until my flesh was glowing. Under the lather, my skin absorbed the scent
of sharp mandarin orange. I patted down my damp skin with terry cloth
and then graced it with a similarly fruity body lotion; and after, the
crowning glory - my hair perfumed with green apple, my body anointed with
essence of peach. The backs of my knees, the nape of my neck, the small
of the back . . . in all the secret tiny places I challenged you to find.
And you found them. In sleeping bliss I have no worries about work or
anything else - we’ve slept in on a Saturday morning, it’s late
in the day, and we don’t care. We’re naked. We smell like sex
and fun.
You mumble again against my flesh; the hum of your voice thrills along
the back of my knee and I shiver, and pretend to stretch and turn toward
you. Through lowered lashes, I watch you, watch the way you proffer a
tiny smile, leaning forward on your elbows and simply admiring. You’ve
told me I’m beautiful and I half believe you; I frequently rely on
your touch to prove it to me again.
To provoke you, I sigh and turn to face away from you on my side. I face
my head away from you, and in the silence, wait for what you’re going
to do. My hair is curly and thick against my temples; I stare up at the
ceiling, the sunrays slicing cleanly across the bed, my skin, just missing
my eyes. I smile, pleased at the prettiness of the day. We’ll spend
it all in bed.
I begin to close my eyes, and just then, I fee l the softness of stockinet
slowly climb up my legs. The anticipation of knowing what’s coming
is driving me insane, I give my leg one final stretch. You begin applying
the padding making sure it’s not too tight. I watch you as you carefully
you smooth out all the bumps and wrinkles. Making it look perfect. My
heart is racing. I hear the sounds of your hands as they enter the warm
water. Our eyes meet. You ask me one last time if I’m sure I want
you to continue. I answer you with a smile and kiss. I think I want this
more than you’ll ever know.
My eyes widen, I’m boiling over with excitement as I feel your gloved
hands slowly make their way around my foot. As the fiber climbs up my
body, my desire for you increases, I know you feel the wetness begin to
take over me as you work your magic hands up my thigh.
I pull you into me and kiss you hard and deep, my tongue exploring your
mouth. I need you now. The throbbing in my clit proves it. You back away
and spread my uncasted leg. My body goes crazy as you begin to repeat
the process. I can feel my legs begin to quiver and I know you can too.
You take your time now. Taunting and teasing me. The warmness of both
legs is overcoming me. I tip my head and arch my back as I enjoy these
new feelings. You aren’t sure what to make of my behavior and ask
me if I’m ok. I rub my fingers lightly over my clit and I offer to
show you how ok I really am. You move my hand away and continue to your
masterpiece. I watch you now, concentrating on your movements so I will
be able to bring myself back to this place over and over in head.
You help me to my feet. I almost fall over but you grab me around my waist
just in time. Together we slowly make it to wall. Standing here, back
turned to you I can fell you frisking me with your eyes. This interrogation
seems to last forever but I don’t mind for it is an interrogation
of love. As you wrap my inner thighs I can feel myself tremble with delight.
As this fiber prison rises, I know you as my warden have some special
devious desires for me. You take your time wrapping your way around my
moist mound and tight ass. I’m speechless. All I can do bite my lips
and try to steal glances of you working. As my fiber increases its height
my breasts rest on the top of my prison.
I am so tired, you carry me back top bed. I am so tired so I begin to
rest my eyes. I feel you move onto the bed, and I know you are next to
me, watching me. I keep my eyes closed, and breathe through my mouth.
The air grows electrified around me as I wait, and it
finally sparks when you start with a finger, at the knee again, and then
your whole palm, sliding up my encased thigh, to land on my waist. Then,
you squeeze, and slide your hand down between us, a finger leading, to
trace the line of my ass, my buttocks, to reach the part of my thighs.
You nudge with your hand, and when I don’t move, you slide your fingers
between my thighs and lift my right thigh away, so that I am forced to
slide further onto my stomach. I press my face to the pillows, my face
hidden in my unruly hair.
I’m completely open to you. I feel the pause, heavy,
and then, your weight shifts on the bed. I open my eyes, anticipating,
and then I feel you again - your tongue, your wicked tongue, is now tracing
shapes on the left cheek. Then bites, then licks - you swirl, you nibble,
and then you rise up, straddle my rock hard legs, and bend to pay attention
to the right cheek. I remain dormant.
You are growing hungry; I feel the pressure of your sex against the back
of my thigh and can already smell us beginning to get sex funky. You fill
both palms with an ass cheek wishing you could part them, A bit of cool
air rushes in and mingle with the crossing streams of sunlight from the
window. You make a low sound of pleasure at what you see and bend forward
- your tongue runs lightly between the cheeks, and begins to run down,
down -
You release me, pull back. You press your knees into the backs of my thighs.
I feel you lean over me. My breasts are crushed into the mattress and
they are aching, but the pain is worth the pleasure of what you’re
doing to me.
Your hands return to my ass. They rest, and then slide - then suddenly,
your fingers trace quickly to my sex from behind, one hand parting what
you can reach, to get me open. Then, your fingers again, and they slowly
trace the line of my inner labia. I’m soaking wet, I can hear my
slickness, hear your finger working through it. Then, you move me again
- with one hand you press down on the small of my back while with the
other you pull me up and toward you with a flat palm covering my sex.
Now you’ve got better access, and I smile, push my face further into
the pillows.
You part me with one hand again, and now you can reach my clit - you circle
it lightly, sweetly, teasing the fat nub with your index finger. I close
my eyes, receive - you circle again and again, kneeling behind me with
endless patience, and I grow wetter and wetter. I hear myself and I hear
you, breathing deeply, watching me, your knees shaking against me.
You eventually move me toward you, down, and then, a slight pressure -
you push in, and unable to stop myself I let out a tiny gasp -
“Shhh,” you murmur, hushing me, and I shudder, hold my breath,
as your finger moves deeper, deeper, is joined by another, both sliding,
exploring, tracing the inner limits of my labia, stretching me to see
how far I’ll open. You tease, sliding in, then out, and when my hips
begin to work against your fingers you pause, stop, confuse my rhythm.
You want me to be still, to do only what you want me to.
You begin your explorations again, your two fingers pushing deeply, and
I hold my breath, fight like hell to hold the sounds in, breathing fitfully
into my pillow. You eventually slide them out, and the air hits my pussy,
so that she misses you. But not for long.
You move between my forced spreaded legs and then I feel your lips brush
my thighs again - and then your hot breath rushes against my sex and,
panicked, I suddenly reach out for you - your hands take mine, and hold
them fast. You don’t let go; in fact, you won’t let go. My whole
body can’t move. Held in stasis, I can only concentrate on the sensation,
as your tongue slides forward, and in; I feel it at first as a light tickling,
then a seeking fullness, and then the whole of your tongue fills me, so
far in that your nose presses against my ass and I can feel the top of
your chin.
You murmur, groan, and the rumble of your voice throbs through my sex;
you work your tongue inside of me without pulling away, and the wetness
multiplies, fills, pours, until I am one syrupy mess of pussy and can
only imagine being eaten for the rest of my life.
Eventually, you start a rhythm, pulling back and then forward, a seesaw
where your hands hold tight to mine as you thrust your tongue in and then
out, tracing the line of my inner lips, teasing them, raking them, flipping
the tip of your tongue against them. My breath is absolutely fretful now,
and I start to moan, but you make a forbidding sound, and I falter, press
my face into the pillows and try to quiet the moans without suffocating.
It’s difficult, and you know it; you work at pleasing me but won’t
let me show my enjoyment, and suspended for you I cannot move, I cannot
speak, I can only be.
Eventually, you slowly release my hands, but I know I must remain silent
and still will be unable to move. You shift again, and I feel the backs
of your knees; I stare at the window, knowing what is going to come. The
sun outside is blazing, and my retinas are imprinted with white light,
but I do not close them.
I feel the visitor - he is hard and ready, scalding hot, and he wants
in. The head of your cock presses, seeks, and placed against the entrance
begins to burrow its way in. I groan, a deep low guttural noise for which
I am punished - I am silenced, biting my lip as your sex pushes deeper,
deeper. I can see you with both hands on my hips now. You reach the hilt,
and pause, then, you begin your rhythm, a slow plunging rhythm with the
tempo of our heartbeats.
My hands released, I now grasp the pillows, wishing I could spread my
legs wider to receive you, your hands raising my sex to meet yours. You
thrust, your fucking sweet, deep, and relentless; you always take me like
this, you always want it all. Covered, housed, sheathed fully in wetness,
in the dark that is my womb, you refuse to play lightly - you want thoroughness.
Exploring, you push left, right, deep, deeper; up, down, deep, deepest;
and eager to please you I clutch around you, my inner muscles working
you, urging you, milking you, our breathing in tandem now, our mission
evident. I try to rise up onto my elbows, the better to push back against
you, but you press me down again with your left hand, and I lay still,
forced open to you, a wide-open pussy for you to fuck.
Your grunts are low, but occasional; I can tell you are trying to play
fair with the rules of silence. Eventually, you pull out, with a slick
pop, and then you press against me again. I feel run the juicy head along
the inside of my outer lips, against my clitoris, tickling the bud. I
want to press my pussy out and toward you but fiber encased prison will
not let me. You push down, rub the entire wet length of your shaft against
the parted lips, and then press the head to me and slide in again, the
thumping against the fiber echoing between us, the soaking wetness filling
the air with a musky sweetness.
You pull out again, and then slap the length against my spread lips, and
then push in again; you alternate, rubbing your shaft and cap against
me, then sliding back in. But then, suddenly, you pull out, pull back,
I see your hands on my waist again, you grab me and pull me toward you,
then help turn me over onto my back. Surprised, I stare at you, but your
look is sharp and commanding - close your eyes.
I wait. The bed shifts; you pull away from me. Then, a hand parts my sex,
and the rush of cold air again - but then, your mouth covers me, your
tongue presses fast against my clit, and you are rubbing, licking, and
then, the move that makes me shudder and reach for you, my hands tangling
in your hair - sucking, sucking, you pull and suck on my clit as if it
were a little dick. Shuddering again and again. I can feel myself needing
to move; it feels as though I’m going to break out. I try but I can’t.
The noises you make are wet and sloppy; you eat me messily, with no care
to the juices covering your face; you part my lips wide and then rise
up suddenly over me, to grasp me delicately, gently, with your teeth.
Frozen, I have fear of pain and in anticipation of pleasure, and then
you give me the slightest pressure, just enough to feel good, running
your teeth carefully from the base to the tip, and down again; maddened,
I fling my arms out and clutch the bed sheets, and then, somehow, you
go further - the tip of your tongue comes down between your teeth and
plays with the captured clit. It’s too much; I am gone; I begin to
whimper, unable to stop, growing louder with each flicker, each tickle,
each press, and then you return to the sucking -
You build me, sucking, teasing, nibbling, running your tongue down to
dip lightly into my vagina then up again, until the orgasm comes ,one
hand tangled in your hair. When it comes you rear up, throw my hand off,
and plunge your cock in, your rhythm fast to catch up with my orgasm,
and you fuck me, hard, fast, deep, my body racked with the ripples of
my first orgasm overlapping with another impending one. I am tugged on
by the friction of your determined sex, my own dripping wet and spread
wide, and we pant into the silence, as I lay prone against the bed and
you lean back on your knees above me. My eyes are open now, wide, watching
you reach orgasm, wrapped in my own ecstasy, in our sweat and come and
funk, as you bring us bliss.
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