Tag Archives: pussy

The Storm

A wet pussy is like a small, salty ocean trapped inside a woman’s body.  There are tides, there are ebbs and flows, storms and surges.  There are moments when the pounding of that tunnel-shaped sea leaves the rest of you feeling drained, slightly bruised and aching.  There are nights when you fall asleep to the steady cadence, soothed into a deep and restful slumber.

There are times when in turmoil you turn to it, flee to it, throw yourself into it, hoping desperately to be washed free of the pain and tumult in your mind – or at least be granted temporary respite from it.

It is a living breathing thing with a heartbeat all its own.

And you live your life trying to keep the balance between feeding it and controlling it, nurturing it and being nurtured by it.

A delicate, pink micro-ecosystem that has the power to bring you to your knees.

I am on my knees.

On. my. fucking. knees.

The salt is flowing from multiple springs.  The storm is battering me.

And all I can do is wait for the tempest to pass. Wait for this thundering sea to be my sanctuary once again.

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Sinfire

Couple in sunset

The sound of the waves pounding the beach was a perfect backdrop for the night.  We watched the sun go down from our camp chairs, cold beer in one hand, plate of delicious campfire food on our laps, soaking up a relaxing moment after a busy day of activities.

We counted down as the last sliver of sun went into the ocean and I made the familiar hissing sound as I pictured it submerging beneath the waves, fiery rays temporarily quenched by cool water.  He smiled sideways at me – not the first time my child-like mannerisms had resulted in that grin.  We toasted each other over our beers and tucked into our food.  The long day spent together had inspired a multitude of appetites; we quenched the most urgent one first.

After dinner, we used the campfire to melt marshmallows, trading our sunset views for starry skies above.  The coastal night, often shrouded in clouds and whipped by cold wind, was surprisingly clear and temperate.  We took full advantage of nature’s gift, deciding that s’mores tasted best when eaten with a side order of Milky Way.

I rose to put my empty beer bottle by the truck, pausing on my way to lean down and kiss him.  He responded eagerly, mouth teasing and tasting mine, hands roaming the curve of my ass as I bent forward to kiss him.  I pulled away, licking my lips, willing my body to slow down and not rush this rare, sensual moment.  I dropped the bottle by the truck and retrieved our campfire staple, a bottle of Sinfire.

I returned to my seat by the campfire, my legs grateful for the temporary reprieve from the heat radiating off the fire.  I briefly contemplated cups and then decided against it.  I took a swig and passed him the bottle with a glint of mischief in my eye. He smiled and accepted the bottle, his finger tracing mine before grasping the neck and taking a long drink of his own.

The cinnamon fire on both our tongues, he rose from his chair, handed me back the bottle and wound a hand in my hair, gently tugging my head back to drop a sultry kiss on my tingling lips.  He moved around behind me, hands sliding down my chest to squeeze my breasts as his mouth drank its fill from mine.  I sighed against his lips as his fingers found my nipples and he teased them expertly before pinching them hard and drawing a gasp from me.

He chuckled, walked away to put away the last of the food, and returned shortly, kissing me again on his way back to his seat.  I waited for him to get settled, taking a few more sips of Sinfire.  The whiskey worked its way quickly through my body and coating me in warm lassitude that was only enhanced by the fire.  After a few minutes of conversation, I rose again.  It was time to act.

I bent forward over him, tracing his lips with my tongue, tasting the flavors of him even as my nose savored the scent of his skin.  My lips traced their way down his neck, nipping and biting at the skin as he once again filled his palms with my breasts.  I stood and pulled my shirt off, removing my bra and leaning back down and admiring the shadowy view of his mouth eagerly teasing my nipples to stiff attention.  I moaned softly, the pleasure of his hot mouth on my skin in beautiful contrast to the cool kiss of the slight ocean breeze.

Before I could take advantage of my free hands, his husky voice broke the silence between us.  “Take your pants off.”  It was a command, not a request, and my heart raced a little as I stood to comply.  I knew the beach was deserted, that we were the only ones camping out there on that perfect autumn night.  But I had a moment of trepidation, knowing that when naked, my body would be on display – aglow in the blazing light of the campfire.

The pounding of my heartbeat was merely an overture for the a more intense cadence I knew was coming.   His fingers traced my face and he pulled me down again to savor my kiss. I could feel the heat of the fire making my backside tingle.  He flicked his hands across my nipples before raising my breasts to his mouth and devouring them one by one.  He sighed happily and I echoed the sentiment.  He used his teeth with gradually increasing pressure and I felt the wetness begin to ooze out of me.

He released me long enough to pull his pants down, a sudden wave of desire making fully removing them far too much work.  I felt the pressure of his palms on my head and heard his husky voice tell me what he wanted next.

I obliged.

My lips were coated with salty-slick precum before I could even open my mouth to taste him. He traced his cock across my lips, pulling me suddenly up again to kiss me hard.  I felt my pussy twitch with anticipation as he drank his own essence from my mouth before shoving me back down.  I was ready and my hot, eager mouth enveloped him.  He groaned louder this time, muttering “Oh my god, that is so fucking hot.”  I glanced up to see him looking over my shoulder, taking in the sight of my body aglow in the firelight.

He stroked my skin, petting my hair reverently then assertively grasping a handful to steer my mouth.  He thrust his hips up to meet me, then suddenly commanded me to turn around and bend forward.

I stood and turned, the sand and alcohol making my feet clumsy.  I spread my legs, bending forward and secretly hoping the alcohol didn’t send me face-first into the campfire.  It would be just my luck that a fireside fuck would turn into an emergency room trip and second degree burns.

He held my hips steadying me and when he felt my hands grasp his ankles, he leaned forward and drove his tongue into my wet slit.  He traveled all across my body, tongue flicking around my ass, dipping lower to my dribbling pussy, across the soft skin of my thighs and ass cheeks.  He reached around me with his other hand, smearing my cream all over my clit and making my legs begin to shake.  He recognized the precariousness of the situation and opted for a safer thrill.

“Sit.”  He said.

I lowered myself onto his waiting cock, using the arm of the camp chair for balance and slid down on his swollen sex.  He marveled at the sensation of my fire-hot skin against him.  I started out of the gate like I was trying to win the derby, my pussy so hungry it was greedy.  He steadied me again, telling me to slow down.  I fought my animal urges and made my body listen.

The orgasm was building up inside me, threatening to make me scream right there in the middle of the beach.  Once again he came to my rescue.  “Come have a taste of that beautiful pussy.”  He told me.  I stood and turned, once again baring my tender parts to the heat of the fire.  I licked him eagerly, my citrusy juice on his cock one of the best flavors I had that night. I swallowed him deep, thrusting him into the back of my throat in quick deep thrusts.  He pulled me up again with a firm hand in my hair.  “Sit again.”

I obeyed, my pussy aching to be filled again.  I sat effortlessly, my hot skin once again igniting his as he drove up into me, countering my thrusts until I cried out, shaking from head to toe as my pussy grabbed him and pumped his cock like a fist.  His lips were on my back, tracing tongue and biting teeth as my body shuddered and my juices poured down his balls.

With a deep groan and a powerful thrust, he filled me with his cum.  I couldn’t help the laughter.  My body felt so amazing and the experience was so liberating.  The air on my skin, the sand between my toes and the heat of the fire on my body.   He wrapped his arms around me, his lips kissing my shoulder over and over as his cock softened inside me.  When I stood finally to retrieve my clothing, he slid back into his pants and watched me pull on my clothes.  His eyes shimmered in the firelight as I settled back into the camp chair next to him.

He gave me a wolfish grin and handed me the Sinfire.

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2014 VagFest: A Festival of Vaginas

I was scrolling down the event calendar for our local convention center this evening when I came across an event that, to my mind, was long overdue:  2014 VagFest.

An entire festival dedicated to vaginas? My eyes sparkled as I considered the possibilities.  Grooming demonstrations (how to treat/avoid razor burn and ingrown hairs in delicate areas); erotic art displays; toys and lubes; scents and flavors to make even the most mundane vagina beguiling.  Anatomy lessons for those unfortunate souls who haven’t yet stumbled across their G-spot; group discussions on how to get the most pleasure out of every penis; exercise seminars to tighten and firm those most special muscle groups post child-birth and beyond.  That would be a valuable and popular seminar.  (Nothing intrigues a woman with three kids more than having a twat tighter than a 17 year old cheerleader.)

The smile spread like warm sunshine across my face as I began to feel at home in this imaginary, labial world.  I imagined a special area where men could also browse, learn and discover the secret world where men love, yet fear, to go.  Seminars designed to help them not feel threatened by the 11-inch black vibrator in their partner’s nightstand drawer.  Advice on how to navigate the menstrual cycle without having to skip the fun stuff.  A medical booth where embarrassing questions could be asked and strange pustules examined in anonymity by clinical professionals.  A homeopathic remedy booth nearby where women could purchase creams and tinctures that would make their nether parts smell like an herb garden. 

As I gazed off into the distance, my face lifted up in supplicant bliss at the notion that the vagina could be celebrated at level worthy of its own festival, I glanced back at my computer screen to make sure I was not dreaming. 

And that is when I read the event name again.  “2014 VegFest.” 

A festival of vegetables and not vaginas?

My shoulders slid into a destitute slump as the air left me in a dejected whoosh. 

Damn those organic farmers. They have all the fun.

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Author’s Note: The Fickle Vagaries of Pussy

Friends and Followers of Pussy,

Writing, at times, can be a fickle mistress. In spite of the thousands of words at our disposal, sometimes as authors we fail to convey our message in a way that satisfies.

Take for example yesterday’s post, “Son and Consort.”  I have taken it back to the draft stage so that I can re-work it and hopefully, coax it into the form that I had envisioned when I sat down to write.  I hit publish a bit hastily – what can I say? Sometimes even I get a little eager for the Pussy.

A trusted friend assured me that, while a jarring left turn in subject matter ensued, I did not cross the boundary into Creepyville.  Not that it would have been the first time (anyone remember “Security”?) but let’s say there are certain junctions in Creepyville even this train doesn’t want to stop at.

So hang in there friends and be patient.  Sometimes the Pussy needs some gentle stroking and a bit of probing before she gives up her secrets.

Moistly yours,

CJ

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Right Bicep

It was the curve that caught my eye, drew me in.

That sloping curve from your shoulder to your elbow.

An erotic arc of skin and muscle.

It’s embarrassing to admit.  Like my fetish for a conference room table.   But…

The curve of your right bicep ignited something in me.

I could barely take my eyes off it.

I wanted to lick it.  I wanted to run my tongue along the line I saw.  I wanted to sink my teeth into your skin.

I wanted to taste the salt of you there, grip its left counterpart in my hand as passion reared.

I wanted to feel those muscles bunched up and tensed around me as you lifted my hips and drove yourself into me.

Wanted to feel them wrapped around my ass and holding me steady as I ground my pussy against your mouth.

The sweep of that line, from the cap of your shoulder in a graceful angle down to your bicep.

I wanted to taste it a dozen times that night.

I very nearly did.

Just as I very nearly got myself off in ladies room after the first game.

I laughed as I fingered my clit in the ladies room stall, feeling it swell, wondering how you would react if I sent you a picture of what I was doing at that moment.

I contemplated coating my fingers in my juicy goodness and offering you a taste when I got back to the table. Or would I just tease you with my scent and lick my own fingers clean?

I wondered if it would have the same effect on your concentration as the effect a wicked line of sinew was having on mine.

I am lucky that I didn’t pierce an innocent passerby as my wandering mind played havoc with my dart’s trajectory.

I am lucky I still managed to win two out of three and keep my bragging rights.

I am lucky I got to take you home and let my tongue re-enact the sensuously filthy things I was thinking about at the pub.

I am amazed at how completely you managed to wreck me.

With the curve of your right bicep.

 

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From the Vagina Vault: My Man

Originally published on February 19, 2013, this piece is as relevant today as it was the day I wrote it.  (And no, I haven’t found him yet.)

My Man

Are you my man?

Are you the one who can harness this flame?

Can you dance me to the end of love

And back again?

Do you have the strength

To hold me together when I shatter?

Do you see my beauty

Even with my imperfections?

When you look into my eyes

Do you see the Angel-courtesan within?

Can you feel the heat from the glow of her red halo?

Will you give heart and soul to me

Without fear or reservation?

Cherish our bond above any other?

Can you unleash the beast within

Brave the teeth and claws, the animal desire

And revel in the fact you’ll never tame her?

Are you strong enough to handle my love?

When I unleash it with both barrels?

Will you sanctify me

Pleasure me

Satisfy me

Forgive me

As I will You?

Don’t stand on my doorstep roses in hand,

Making honeyed promises you’ll never keep.

Don’t promise me forever.

Or say you’ll never hurt me.

For if you truly love me

You will hurt me.

And forever is just a myth.

Instead promise me that

You will love me in this moment

With everything you are.

Promise me that when you hurt me

You will nurse that hurt until it’s gone.

Promise me that you will treat

The gift of my love

With diligent reverence.

Show me you will give these things to me

And let me give them to you.

Now that you know what that question really means

Let me ask it again:

Are you my man?

Copyright 2014 CJ Riordan

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Who’s the Sub?

I agreed to meet you at the bar.  I told you I’d be the one in the black tights with the growling pussy.  You laughed and said I should be easy to find.

I’ll admit, my approach was less than subtle.  But the hunger was rising like a burning tide inside me.  Demanding release, needing touch.  There was no way I could hide it so I figured the safest bet was a full-frontal assault.

We met and relaxed over beer and conversation.  I caught my gaze as it locked on the outline of your nipples through your t-shirt.  Mmm…my mouth tingled at the thought of their hard outline between my lips.  I momentarily lost track of what you were saying.  Mesmerized by the fantasy reel playing in my head, I watched your lips move and picture that motion on my swollen clit.

We made casual conversation while I killed you in a game of darts.  That’s it, you announced with a smile, the handicap is over.  Next time, we both play straight – no slop.  I grinned back, the competitive spirit inside me alight and reveling in a heady rush.  Just one of many heady moments to come.

We headed out, my stomach rumbling with hunger that nearly matched that of my craven pussy.  In the parking lot, your mouth found mine, your fingers making a beeline for the V between my legs.  I opened my thighs and welcomed your touch, stopping myself just shy of grinding into your palm – there were people on the sidewalk behind me.  We discussed stopping for something to eat on the way to my place.  We made it a only a few blocks from the bar, when I texted you.

Forget the food.  Take me home and fuck me.

Your response:  🙂

I felt myself flirting with a dangerous edge.  My hunger had an unbidden quality that worried me.  I didn’t know you well enough – didn’t know if you would receive the full brunt of that danger well.  I fought for control even as my hands found their way into my pants. There were no panties to navigate, just the full lips of my pussy, already swelling and moist.  The beast had arisen…

We arrived at my place.  I continued to struggle for control of the animal urges while I poured a drink and flipped on a CD. But you read my signals.  You knew what I needed.  You wasted no time, stripping off my blouse and freeing my breasts to your touch.  You kissed and sucked them, twisted and pulled them in that way that makes me exhale in a slow hiss.  You squeezed them tight, trapping blood in my nipples and increasing the sensitivity.  I wrapped my leg around you, peeling off your shirt so my hands could touch your skin.  You leaned me back over the couch, then changed direction, pulling me by my nipples to the other side of the sofa.

You waited for me to remove your pants and laughed when I lacked the initiative.  I made an embarrassed mental note: next time, examine the belt – so I can rip it off with accuracy and not make a fumbling mess of it.

Take me to the bedroom I asked you.  I needed to have room to move, this passion could not handle the confines of the sofa.  You stood and grasped my taut nipples in your fingers, pulling me like a dog on a leash.  I obediently followed my master’s footsteps.

In the bedroom, I felt the swell of passion rise inside me like turbulent seas sluicing up in a punchbowl.  I pushed you down on the bed and my lips found your cock.  I licked the salty fluid from your tip, savoring the flavor of your desire.  I want you to cum on my tits I said breathlessly as my mouth worked its magic and your cock grew full and hard.  I was drunk on the power my mouth had over your body, seduced by the way you moaned and worked your hips beneath my face.  I went too far.

But you can’t cum until I say so.

Who is in control here?  The velvet softness of your voice belied the steel beneath.  I felt your hand clench into a fist at the back of my head.  You pulled me up, denying me the feast of your cock, pulling my face back up to yours. I am the Dom here you said with a silky growl.  You brushed your lips across mine, tightening your fist in my hair and giving me a little shake.  Who’s the sub?  You pulled me close, your mouth closing over mine in a kiss that swept over me like an inferno. I am, I sighed against your lips.  My mind fought for control, part of me wanting to push that boundary further, craving the knowledge of your dominance over me.  The other part of me wanted to please, wanted to retreat from the animal within.  That part won.

You pushed me back down, thrusting my face down onto your cock and pumping into my throat with a few deep thrusts to drive your point home.  I accepted you, accepted my place, yielding to your touch and giving up my pussy to you like an offering on an altar.

Our bodies engaged in an erotic performance; a dance of sensation punctuated by sighs and groans, grunts and strangled sounds, the deafening clap of your hands reddening my ass as a reminder.  In the end you kept the beast in its cage, you fed the hunger and ignited a new craving.

I have touched myself countless times since then – eyes closed, lips parted as my body thrusts and strains for release all the while repeating your words:

Who’s the sub here?

I am…for now.

 

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Dichotomy

The sun lifts its light to the horizon.  The dark profile of evergreen trees stark against the pale light.  It is daybreak and I am thinking of you.  I am thinking about how to keep you in my pussy and out of my heart.  Let’s face it, one of them needs you.  But the other?  The other does not.

It creates an interesting dichotomy.  The desire to touch your skin, make your blood race, work you hard until I can taste the sweat on your body.  Coupled with the desire to remain disengaged, friendly but not emotional.  A state of warm ambivalence.  An act of acrobatics I am likely not qualified for.   A tight rope walk I have failed in the past and yet here I am again, stepping out onto the rope.

Make no mistake – there will be no falling this time.  This time, if I start to wobble, I walk away.

Ultimately, my darling, you are my fuck toy.  I will touch your face softly, gaze at you with my sultry eyes while my mouth surrounds your cock, smile at you with a deceptive tenderness that you may read as feelings.  But you will be wrong.  The smile of tenderness is nothing more than an expression of gratitude for the pleasure you give.  Your needs do not matter to me.  My hungry pussy is what matters.

You will feed the beast.  You will offer me your body and I will devour your offering.  I will bend for you, moan and cum for you.  I will let you redden my flesh with your toys.  The pain is a reminder.

We will laugh, talk about our pasts, work, ex-spouses, children, tell stories, find common ground we didn’t know we had.  I may forget the time, but not the objective:  you are not allowed in.  In the end, I will walk that tight rope to the other side – where another rope will be waiting to challenge me.

You are my dildo.

My fuck toy.

End of story.

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Morning Kiss – Part Three

Continued from Part Two and Part One

There was little preamble before he firmly placed my hands against my bedroom wall.  I held still, my head inclined gently to the side, watching him as he looked me over.  I smiled, knowing he was trying to decide where to touch first. I arched my back  and gave my ass a slow back and forth swivel.  His hands took the bait and reached for my hips. My breath came out in a hiss when his smooth fingers made contact.

He was not rough with me.  I failed the test and my hand slid away from the wall, reaching behind me to feel the bulge in his jeans.  He said nothing, just firmly, decisively put my hand back in place.

He touched wherever his fingers roamed from the swell of my breast to the curve of my hips.  He filled his palms with my breasts, breathing into my ear how much he loved the weight of them in his hands.  My reply was a throaty laugh as my ass drew circles against his crotch. I could feel my hunger growing.

He satisfied his need to touch, hands spreading my now-bare ass cheeks tracing the line to my slick entry.

It was time.

He drew me to the bed, lay me down and straddled me, reaching for the massage oil he had requested I set out by the bed.  He started smoothing the muscles of my back in long strokes.  I sighed as I felt my body relax, strung between the delicious tension of sexual arousal and relaxation.  His fingers traced the edge of ass cheek down to my pussy and I gasped when he flicked across my clit.

Instantly the beast was awake.  I spread my thighs, raised my hips up hungrily to his touch.  He slid his fingers back and forth before stroking over my clit again; using the moisture seeping out of me spreading it like honey from clit to ass.  I breathed a sigh that turned to a moan as his fingers traced my ass.  “Inside me,” I groaned, raising my hips up and pushing my knees farther apart.  “I need you inside me.”

He complied and thrust two long fingers into my hot tunnel.  We both groaned then.  I reached for his cock, my fingers nearly frantic.  He lay down beside me and offered me his cock.  I waited a beat, my eyes never leaving his as I licked the salty moisture from his tip and engulfed him in one, smooth motion.  His head fell back and his hands gripped my head.  I could feel his hips lifting off the bed, thrusting hungrily up into my throat as his hands pressed down. I understood the message. He wanted it deep and I gave it.

I felt his thick cum hit the back of my throat and tried to swallow but he wasn’t done.  He thrust his head ever deeper into the back of my throat, gagging me and pouring another surge of semen down my throat.  I almost laughed at the quiet brutality of his orgasm.  I could feel him shuddering in my mouth.

He sighed contentedly, stroking my hair for a moment before pushing me back down on my tummy, reaching again for my still-soaking and ever hungry pussy.  His fingers entered me swiftly, finding my spot with minimal effort and I felt the waves of pleasure flow over me as he began to slide his fingers in and out.  His thumb swirled across my clit and my hips arched up.  He took advantage of the view and told me how hot it was seeing my ass clenching with pleasure as his fingers disappeared into the wetness below.  My body was craving him and I came swiftly.  Too swiftly for his taste.

He turned me over, cupping my sex and rubbing it with his palm, lips lapping at my nipples before the nipping of his teeth began.  He pulled his hand away from me and brought it down in a sharp motion. I gasped as his palm slapped against my pussy.  “Spread yourself.”  His low voice intoned. I reached down with my hands, opening my full lips and exposing my tender clit to his touch.

Slap.  Jump.  Slap.  Twitch.  Slap. Moan.  Slap.

The sounds of my wetness grew and I could see my juice glistening against his palm.  My breath was coming short and hard, my back arched up hips meeting his palm with each slap.

“Fuck me, please!” I could stand it no longer.  Blindly I grabbed his hand after a final, surprisingly hard slap, and thrust his fingers into me. I refused to relinquish my grip on his hand and I held him tight, shoving his fingers into my pussy and fucking myself with his hand.

He laughed out loud at my hunger, the sounds of his deep laugh lost in the din as my orgasm crested like a killer wave, flooding us both, soaking the duvet in saline.  My pussy gripped him tight and I thrust a few more times, making sure every ounce of sensation was drawn from the orgasm before bringing his hand to my mouth. I sucked at his fingers, happy, breathless and utterly thrilled.

Next time, he tells me he will bury his cock inside me.

I can hardly wait.

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That Look

His hands trail down the soft curve of her shoulder, his body sated, but still responding with a tremble to the softness of her skin.  He closes his eyes, relaxing into the softness of the pillow.  He smiles as she exhales softly and snuggles deeper into his shoulder.  The silky texture of her hair teases his arm as she turns her head, burrowing her cheek against his chest, lips brushing his nipple.  She tastes him gently at first.  Mouth and tongue lazily grazing his skin.  Her caresses become purposeful; her hand sliding down the soft fur on his belly.  Her smooth palm travels the length of his thigh, running back up his leg and cupping his balls, surrounding them in a soft, warm caress on the return trip.

He purrs in response to her touch, amazed at the effortless way she elicits a reaction from him.  His cock is fighting the lassitude of his last orgasm, sleepily rising to seek her damp offerings again.  A throaty chuckle and his eyes snap open.  He glances down at her and sees that familiar twinkle  – the gleam of mischief in her dark, sultry gaze.  He knows she is contemplating whether or not to leave him to his rest.  He can also see her body is making the decision for her.  She turns her hips, rising up and straddling his leg.  As she lowers her mouth to his thigh, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin before her tongue begins tracing dirty words on his balls, he can feel the exquisite heat coming off her sex.  Like a living, breathing animal, her pussy is calling to him and his body is answering in spite of his exhaustion.

Unconsciously his fingers tangle in her hair.  He sweeps back the dark locks so he can watch her mouth’s long, slow descent down his cock. The feel of his head against the back of her mouth causes the blood to flow in earnest.  As she traces her tongue in circles over the head of his cock, lapping up the taste of herself still left behind from their last coupling, his body arrives at full attention.  In a heartbeat, his hunger rises like a tiger and his hips thrust forward, sending his swollen cock deep into her throat.  She takes him all, one hand running down his belly, the other cupping his balls again.  She stabilizes him with one hand and holds herself still to receive his thrusts.  She barely moves as he pumps himself into her mouth, but he can feel the suction of her lips and tongue as he thrusts.

She begins her counterstrike; her movements the perfect foil to his thrusts.  She doesn’t move far, maybe an inch or two, but they are the difference between feeling his cock in her mouth, and feeling the head of his cock caressing the silky slickness of her throat.  He groans, hands wrapping around her hair and his palms apply pressure to her cheeks.  This gesture has no practical purpose.  He just can’t help himself – her mouth feels that fucking good.

She rises up, wiping the spit from her chin with a sexy grin as she straddles his hips.  He is one step ahead of her, guiding his cock to her wet slit like an eager hound waiting at the gate for its master.  She waits, just beyond his reach, eyes alight with passion.  She asks him in a husky voice, “Do you want my pussy?” He groans, one hand wrapping around her hip as he tries in vain to pull her down on top of him.  She laughs, throwing her hair back off her face as she lowers herself just enough to coat his head in her juices.  “Answer me, lover.”  She says pivoting her hips forward and back, dragging her pussy across his head.

“Fuck yes,”  he says in a breathless voice.  “I need you now.”  He strains upward again and is rewarded by one inch of entrance into her velvet gate. She takes his hands and brings them to her breasts and he squeezes hard, knowing she likes a firm hand on her breasts.  She gasps as his hands squeeze tight and she impales herself on his hard, red cock.  He fucks up into her violently, his hips pounding a furious rhythm from beneath and she counters once again with her own stroke.  He rises up, wrapping his arms around her and throwing her down on the bed.  He grabs her leg, opening her wide to him and buries himself inside her again.  He can feel the impact of their bodies, the sound of their skin making contact eggs him on as he fucks her with a furious intensity.  He can see she has lost herself in the moment.  Her eyes are closed, lips parted as she gasps in pleasure at his sensual assault.  She tenses her body and screams, pouring her liquid sacrament over his cock.  He shudders at the way her pussy twitches and clenches him, knowing it won’t be long before he has made an offering of his own.  A few hard thrusts later and he pulls out – just in time to spray his pleasure across her tits, coating her – marking his ownership.

She laughs breathlessly, her hands caressing his essence, rubbing it into her skin like a precious lotion.  He flops back on the pillow, sweat dewing both their bodies as she resumes her place nestled against his shoulder.

God damn.  He loved it when she got that look in her eyes.

 

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