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I’ve never felt anything like this before.
After a while, though, I start to wonder how I’m going to get back down.
I pull my mouth from his pulsating dick and merely whisper the word.
“Down.”
He directs one of my legs to join the other on one side of him, and he’s surprisingly gentle, though just as surprisingly quick, to guide my body right-side up and lower me until my bare feet come to a soft, slow landing on the carpet below.
I’m impressed.
I’m no virgin, not by any use of the term, but this man has made every sensation feel so new. So I pull his face down toward mine and I kiss him deeply, moving my body just enough to wrap my fingers around his shaft once more.
I push him backward onto the couch and before he’s settled in place, I’m straddling him, rubbing his penis between my legs and delighting in the jolts of warm serenity before I guide him inside of me.
He kisses my breasts softly, his mouth eager, but not desperate.
I tease him a little, putting my hands on his chest and pulling my upper body just out of the reach of his mouth just to watch that urge in his eyes grow.
I rock my hips over him and move my shoulders back and forth just to tempt him further. He leans forward, but I press my hands firmly into his chest.
That drive in his movements, his expression, it’s not a selfish one. After all, I’m already giving him my body the way he’s giving me his. That drive in his eyes is merely evidence that he wants to give me more.
He’s respectful, though, and he doesn’t try to push his luck. So long as we’re playing, this is a game, and it’s one that pays dividends for the both of us.
“So,” I say, brushing the hair out of my face and directing it to cover the upper portion of my breasts, “is this what you imagined it would be?”
It’s a terrible question, I know, but that’s what these moments are for.
“Better,” he says. “I couldn’t have imagined this.”
“Good answer,” I tell him, and lean forward enough to give him temporary oral access to my nipples.
It’s his reward, and he revels in it.
After a few moments of elevated bliss, I pull back again.
“Now that’s just fucked up,” he says.
He’s smiling.
I shrug.
“Tell me your fantasy,” I mutter, slowing my pace a little.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I lean back a little farther. My up
per body is already far enough away that only his hands could touch it, but the action still has the desired effect.
“The bathtub,” he says.
I stop moving a moment.
“The bathtub?” I ask.
He shrugs, and I resume my motion.
