Love Stories and Fairytales

A picture tells 1000 words... Please be 21+ to interact. Keep it classy.

[nacerworld8]

[sweetest-ache]

"Let me please you," she whispered, her breath a hot, humid breeze tickling his chest just before the pillow of her lips found his skin. A teasing trail of kisses pressed from his navel downward. He felt himself stirring at the promise of those lips wrapped around him soon.

Ever the tease, she tugged at his jeans with her teeth, emitting a predatory growl as her nails lightly raked his skin before helping to tug the fabric lower. He was throbbing in anticipation of that moment when her hair would cascade around his thighs and her hungry mouth would finally feast. The sight of her mouth full, her cheeks puffed and flushed; the warm, slick feel of her slobber drooling down his cock; they were always his undoing. A few moments of that and the primal beast inside him was always unleashed with an echoing growl as his fingers fisted in her hair and his hips bucked wildly..

- SA

[a-m-o-r-i-e-i-deactivated202204]

[sweetest-ache]

Those lazy Saturday mornings were her favorite. When there was no need to rush off anywhere. When the day held the potential for doing nothing but indulging in each other. Kiss. Makeout. Fondle. Fuck. Cuddle. Nap. Repeat.

-SA

[devilish-moan]

[sweetest-ache]

When he finally claimed her, it was as though a blinding light shot out of the darkness, a light kindled from two souls merging into one. It carried heat along every nerve ending in her body; her veins thrummed; her heart pounded in time to the sound of his name leaving her lips. His name was a prayer she repeated over and over with each surge of him inside her. Head flung back, eyes closed, she surrendered to the heat. To sensation. She never wanted it to end.

-SA

[fatefuly]

[sweetest-ache]

Third time is the charm, or so they say, but not for her. She had worn her heart on her sleeve. It took a few strikeouts before she learned to keep her carefully stitched back together heart under closer wrap. Years of guarding it close. Replaying old hurts. Keeping the reminder, the pain close to the surface so she could draw upon it anytime she felt her resolve start to weaken.

It was only supposed to be fun. He was only supposed to be fun. The body had urges after all. Hers was no different. But she hadn't expected Mr Gruff. Mr rough sex. To have a soft side. She certainly hadn't intended to curl up like a kitten on his chest and fall asleep to the steady, rhythmic stroking of his hand through her hair that matched the quiet, steady drum beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

Uh oh...was her last thought as her eyelids grew heavy and she felt herself start to fall...

-SA