"Stop it John, th-that tickles-that-! ... OH!" you gasped as his hand suddenly dived into your pants. "Now that doesn't tickle anymore, does it?"
Should I start putting warnings on these?
It was lazy Sunday for the two of you, lounging around in the couch, your back pressed against his chest, his strong arms around your waist, your legs tangled with his. Dog snored softly under the coffee table and a random movie playing in the background but neither of you was paying attention, too lost into each other.
John’s lips moved over your neck, light and soft, his beard scratching you slightly and making you giggle tilt your head to try and escape his ministrations.
You squirmed and squealed as his hands brushed against your sides, finding every ticklish spot, while he brushed his cheek against your neck. You gasped for air, trying to get out of his hold, but John could easily overpower you., only of the many things you loved about him.
You heard him chuckle against your ear as you struggled in his arms, legs kicking widely, your laughter turning silent as no more air was left on your lungs. You just shook in his arms, trying to draw breath, but it was almost impossible under his assault.
“Stop it John, th-that tickles-that-! ... OH!" you gasped as his hand suddenly dived into your pants.
As suddenly as the tickle war started, it stopped, with John caressing your center, panting against your cheek and you realized you’ve been rubbing your ass against him through all your squirming and wiggling in his lap, resulting into his hard-on pressing against your lower back.
"Now that doesn't tickle anymore, does it?"
His voice was a low growl, his lips returning to your neck, but this time in a soft, erotic caress that had you shaking and gasping as he teased you through your panties, until you were soaked and rocking desperately against his hand, once again completely out of breath, but for a very different reason.
“John,” you moaned softly, your hands grasping at his arms. “Please...”
He pulled his hand away, making you whine in protest, but it was only to pull off your pants and his own before he brought you closer again as you laid side by side on the couch, your leg thrown back over his as he teased you running the tip of his cock over your drenched pussy.
“You want it?” he asked, teeth catching your earlobe, making you shudder and rock back against him. “Say it.”
“Fuck me, John. Please,” you begged in a whimper, being rewarded by John finally pushing inside you, making you arch against him at the way he stretched and filled you.
It never ceased to amaze you how John felt perfectly made for you. From the very first time, he seemed to know your body at a level no other lover you had ever managed, setting just the right pace, finding just the right spot to make you lose all coherent thought.
Like now, as he pounded into you, fast and hard against the fluttering of your walls, angling his hips so he could hit that spot, while he rubbed and swirled your clit and one of your nipples and lavished your neck and jaw with kisses and nips, making sure your whole body was occupied with him. Your attention completely on him as pleasure surged through you, building overwhelmingly fast.
You came with a cry, shuddering and shaking in his arms, squeezing around him until he grunted and groaned, spilling inside you too, leaving the two of you panting and exhausted, but perfectly sated and happy.