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Overcome, I plant my face on her lean torso and smooch it as she wraps her legs around my neck. The slight perfume of Fiona’s bodily scent, combined with her glorious sounds, throttle me into an unstoppable sense of mission. Now arching and bucking into me, she’s essentially beggin me to get her naked. Still hovering over her in nothin but my pants, I delicately unclasp her bra to reveal the perfect chest of every man’s dreams…well, every man in his right mind. Two firm mounds of pure gold with bronze centers, none too slight but not bulky…they’re the boobs Goldilocks would’ve picked.
Fiona moans and grinds against me as I gape, fixedly, at her unbearable beauty. She’s shootin me the look of desperation when I slowly envelope her breasts with my hand, one at a time, delicately cupping the entire mound and stroking softly from the outside to the center. Having not kissed in hours, she lunges at me with her mouth when I get mine close to her chest. But I pull just out of reach and settle my lips on a breast instead, which elicits just the response I was hoping for. Takin my time, I work each one in equilibrium until I can feel an abundance of moisture exuding through the mesh of Fiona’s panties.
Before scootin lower, I raise up to make eye contact and can see that Fiona’s on fire. We both wanna kiss so badly, it only makes me wanna torture us longer. I kiss a trail from her breastbone to her belly button, and then peel her sweet panties down inch by inch as she twists beneath me. I slide off the foot of the bed and pull them down her legs and off the ends of her pointed feet. As I lunge forward to resume my position, she plants one of those gorgeous feet right over my mouth and I kiss the bottom of it for several minutes before movin on to the next one.
Finally I replace Fiona’s limp leg and crawl back toward her mid-body. She looks down and reaches as though she wants to remove my pants, but I stop midway for an essential detour. To have this woman in such a way is almost too great an honor for me to bear. My life feels like it’s been one long rehearsal for this moment. For the next hour, my mouth dances across the waters of her ocean…inciting ripple after ripple, then wave after wave, until a tsunami washes over me of such proportions that I learn somethin about a woman’s capacity I’d never known before.
Chapter 17
Fiona
I cannot believe what is happening here tonight. For me… for my mind, body and soul, for my quality of life going forward, for my entire experience of being. During the meager moments I allowed myself to anticipate this trip, I hadn’t imagined I’d experience both the worst and best days of my life within the same week. Bo is everything a woman could dream of having in a man. In fact I’ve been constantly ‘pinching’ myself, checking in with reality to make sure he isn’t a fabrication born out of the trauma I experienced last week.
And here I am, lying panting beneath his ultra-masculine frame, an eager and willing slave to whatever he decides to do next. Although the past hour has left me with few precious remnants of my mind, and even less energy to move a single muscle, I still find myself hungering for the penetration Bo hasn’t yet graced me with.
Holding a view of him through the dazzling distortion of my damp lashes, it hits me that Bo never did remove his pants. I still haven’t seen the full enormity of his flesh, nor the exact sculpting of his lower body. The longing that suddenly fills me is almost unjustified in light of what he’s already given, yet it’s imperative that I have him completely. I don’t know how my body will take him, but apparently it possesses a determination of its own.
After somewhat regaining my bearings from Bo’s magnificent pleasure-overload, I reach down to caress him… but he pulls slightly away. He holds my gaze, surely seeing the eagerness and longing in my eyes, but something in his tells me he has reservations. I feel my face flush when I glance momentarily at his pants and notice a sizable wet spot. There’s no question he’s ready to go, and I wonder what’s holding him back.
I want to ask but our togetherness has been so perfect, I wouldn’t want him to think I’m complaining or feeling lack. And, as much as I’m used to controlling, it’s a surprising comfort to leave all decision making up to someone as powerful as Bo. I trust him. Maybe he’s being wise. Would any greater intimacy be too much for either of us to handle under the circumstances?
As I begin to get lost in rumination, Bo breaks the silence with a question I’m inadequately prepared to answer. “What is it you want most out of life, Fiona? I wanna hear about everything that makes you tick,” he says, still stretching his pants to the brink of their structural integrity.
His sudden change of strategy catches me off-guard, makes me laugh. “Uh, well…right now I wanna find out what else you can do to me,” I answer in all honesty, swiping one knee across his conspicuous bulge.
He gives me that deep chuckle and buries his face in my neck, sending me into another layer of unravelment. “I like a woman who can’t be satisfied,” he groans into my hair. “I could play with you all night.”
“Yes, you can,” I encourage him, plunging my fingers into his short, thick, brown hair.
“Fiona,” he says with a serious look, “will you call me when you get home tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” I reply, slightly astonished that his request could be so simple.
“And will you call me Monday night after work?”
“Okay.” Now I’m starting to wonder where he’s going with this.
“And will you call me Tuesday,” he asks before planting a kiss on my forehead. “And Wednesday.” He kisses me tantalizingly close to my mouth. “And Thursday,” he says, nuzzling behind my ear and putting one there.
I begin to giggle. This is getting out of hand, but not turning me off in the slightest. “Now Bo, why would you want me to torture you like that?” I have to ask.
“Torture? Havin you in my life on the regular ain’t any kinda torture.”
Bo’s accent drives me wild. In a moment of sobriety, I cup his face in my hands and raise up to kiss him full on the mouth…for the first time tonight. In an instant this accelerates us into a kissing and panting frenzy, as we attempt to grind and push our way through the cloth barrier between us. Again I reach down, and this time I get a handful of rock hardness before Bo escapes me. He lets out the kind of groan that makes me wet all over again, before disengaging and rolling beside me on the bed.
“Woman, you’ll be the end of me,” he mutters, our heads turned to face each other.
“You’ll be the end of me,” I retort.
“Good, cause I plan to finish you off.”
“Oh yeah? Then what will you do with me?”
“Well, that’s up to you ma’am. Let’s just say I’ll go as far as you’ll let me.”
This comment jars me a little, as I’m no longer certain we’re talking about the same thing.
“Let you…?”
