Monday, May 21, 2007

Blurred and Stirred

I write the odd piece of exotica based on various realities and fantasies. Here's one that didn't quite come to pass this last weekend although there was some fun play in the fellation room yesterday. I like to think that my prose riles her up a bit! Enjoy.

BTW: I don't have a title for this one so feel free to make suggestions!

She doesn’t want to admit it, but she likes it when he fucks her from behind. He is rough with her unlike her husband, pounding away like a machine, slapping sounds rising and rising with her own cries. Her husband is in the house but has left them alone. He does this to make it easier for his friend to play the games he needs to play in his head to get to the point where he can change from friend to stud. As he locked the door of the guestroom behind him, he grabbed the front of her jeans and pulled her to face him. “Take off your clothes.” She hesitates coquettishly and he unbuttons her pants. She quickly takes over and is soon nude. She stands childishly in front of him and he pushes her into position at the edge of the bed and sits on it in before her. Pushing her to her knees his cock has sprung to life and still she resists reaching for it. Grabbing the back of her head is all the encouragement she needs and she quickly begins to lick and work her lips over the head. Over time this ritual has progress to the point where he knows her moods and how much force he should put into shoving her mouth down his dick. Rarely can she comfortably get her mouth open wide enough to take all of him. So he rubs his meat in her face with a hint of derision and she allows herself to worship the sensation. It excites them both more than either wants to acknowledge.

As she gets more and more aroused he breaks from his pattern of coming in her mouth and pushes her to her feet, then face down on the edge of the bed, her feet still on the floor. She’s feeling naughty and his hardness makes her crave penetration. She’s adding just that little extra bit of submission to her movements with the hope that she can get him to let down that last barrier to her pleasure which is his orgasm inside her. He mounts her and pushes all the way down. Loudly she communicates her approval of his entrance. It hurts just a little at first and then as he withdraws and thrusts it evolves into an aqueous fullness, tidally pulsing in rhythm to his thrusts. He wants to punish her for her wantonness, enraged by her he flushes and begins to pound at her warmth. Immediately he recognizes his mistake. She wants intricate sensation, not the desensitization of physical domination. He slows and she coos affirmatively that he is reading her better. Inside they both shudder with the thought that this is another boundary crossed. Soon he will need her in ways he fears and she too wonders about exposing herself so blatantly. Onward.

For minutes they dance along this new connection, her hips rising with slattern appeal to meet his thrusts and then he lingers buried to full extension squeezing every last detail out of the impact of their acceptance of their act. Slower and slower each cycle goes until the sensation of friction has become a meditation and pleasure has dulled all-awareness of their separation. Reaching this point has taken a lot of practice and now they both want more. Quickening, they strain to capture the mating as it exists beyond their two souls and mostly they succeed. It is his turn to cry out as he allows himself to admit she has a magic he requires. He comes and she goes deep to some private place that allows her to be in command of the woman she is. Her husband hears his friend’s new shout and a flash of jealousy rises. As does his cock. Soon he will be back with her and soon he will have coated her with a claim she gladly accepts.

1 comment:

dirty thirties said...

We just found you ...


BTW, the photo on this posting is so hot.. Mmmmm