God those hands. Those glorious, long fingered, perfect hands. So perfect. Keep touching. Don’t stop.
It’s a jumbled mantra in my mind, the words tumbling end over end as she strokes along my length, dipping her head down suddenly to wet the tip with her hot tongue. She swirls her palm in the wetness, and I can’t stop my eyelids from falling closed at the sensation. My stomach muscles are tight and my chest feels constricted as I attempt to take in a few shaking breaths while she crawls into the recliner with me. I wasn’t expecting this at all, but who am I to refuse my beautiful girl?
Her knees settle into the spaces around my thighs, trapped by the arms of the chair, her body pressing against mine and sliding down. The heat of her walls envelopes me, sheathing my every inch in that wicked tightness. I want to put my lust into words, but every syllable fails me and comes out as a low groan instead.
It always disappoints me, in a way, that she will never know how exquisite it feels to be inside of her. To watch how the pinkness of her blush colours not only her cheeks, but the gentle slope of her chest, the caps of her shoulders, the palms of her hands, her lips….pouting, swollen, lips.
Christ, I wish she could see how her head drops back when I thrust upward and hit that sweet spot. It makes her flinch and gasp and tighten all at once, bearing down on me, the pressure of her body dragging me into the pits of carnality. I want to fuck her and worship her at the same time. Drown her in ecstasy and hear her growl my name.
She likes it rough. So do I. But tonight she wants to take it slow and ride me until I’m the one tearing at the sheets, even though she couldn’t seem to wait tonight. I consider taking her to the bed, but the way the chair rocks beneath us adds a new element that I’m greatly enjoying. Apparently she is too, judging by the way her nails scrape down my upper arms.
I move with her, grinding myself into her with the steady rhythm she’s set. I can feel myself getting ready for the end; that tight, buzzing sensation that always signals me to either slow the fuck down right now or go for the goal. I place my hands on her waist and lean up far enough to take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking and licking and biting to distract her. It works, and she quickly has her hands buried in my hair, holding me close and allowing me a moment to still our thrusts. But it’s not long before she’s wriggling again, trying to get me to move within.
I test myself, jutting up a little, delving deep into her core until I feel myself knock the back of her depths. There is an obscene soundtrack of laboured breathing, wetness, and the creaking of the leather recliner, and it serves to fuel our desires. Her moans echo in my ears, driving a wedge between my control and my need to finish. I can sense my resolve slipping, a humming in my body as my heart races and blood rushes through my veins.
“Harder, Tom,” she whimpers, the use of my name in such context sending a shiver rippling up my spine. “Harder… Tom… deeper.”
I bite my tongue, trying and failing to hold back my own moans as they punctuate each thrust. Everything about her is triggering new sparks of arousal, and suddenly it is slamming into me when she reaches her climax. She spasms and shakes and calls out my name, as though somehow I will come to her rescue and save her from the punishing waves of her orgasm, as they crest and break, washing over the two of us.
I can’t hold back any longer; my mind has made it known that it will not tolerate another second of torture, and I relax for only a moment before I too am consumed in the flames of passion. It rages through me, the winding up and snapping loose of a pleasure long denied, and I exhale a sharp curse as it hits.
She is off of me immediately, dropping to her knees and taking me into her mouth like a starved woman. My eyes open just enough to see hers slide closed as she takes everything I have. I’m reeling and absolutely undone with her little surprise, back arching and one hand gripping the arm of the chair while the other laces in her sweat dampened tresses.
I heave a final sigh and she rests on the floor between my legs, with her head leaning on my thigh. I can’t help but recognize this position, and feel the tug of a Kingly grin curling the corners of my mouth as she kneels there, exhausted, spent.
“Brilliant,” she mumbles, catching her breath. I nod my head and let the grin take over as I look down at her. Hair disheveled, skin flushed, eyes heavy and satisfied. Brilliant indeed.
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