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He places his warm mouth around my left earlobe, sucks on it, then dips his tongue into my ear as he writhers his wide hand up my gown and reaches into the space between my thighs, searching for the center of my flesh. I let out a soft moan when his fingers find the slick softness of its opening. My hips move against my will, grind against his hand.
“You have not earned the right to such pleasures,” I say coyly, catching the air that gathers in the back of my throat.
He presses his fingers against my clitoris and whispers ferociously into my ear, “And neither have the others whom you have taken to your bed. So, tonight shall be no different.” He takes my hand and presses it against his hardness. “Feel the thickness and length of my desires for you. Squeeze it and feel its pulse.” I squeeze. “See. It beats for your warmth. And tonight, I shall have it, Raghaba, goddess of desire. You will saturate me with your juices, and I will fill you with mine.”
My juices are now coming to a rapid boil as he pins me up against the wall and grinds himself into me. I can feel the girth of his manhood pushing against my stomach. Strong hands encircle my waist. His lips devour mine.
I pull away. “I am not prepared for you.” The wetness that drips all over his probing fingers defies what comes from my mouth.
He licks his fingers. “No, my sweet Raghaba, you are more than ready. And tonight,” he says, scooping me up in his arms, then walking toward the back of the house to the stairs that lead to the roof, “we shall greet the gods who look down upon us under the stars and share with them our heated passion.”
I do not protest. I allow him to carry me to the roof where he shall unleash his fantasies, and where I shall indulge them.
Once on the roof, he puts me down so that I can retrieve the rolled reed mat and coverings. Then he unrolls it, and covers it with the coarse linen sheet. Silence guides us as we both hastily remove our garments. We stand naked, my erect nipples, matching the sturdy erection of his manhood. I take in his muscular body, the broad chest and narrow waist with massive thighs and heartshaped calves. Strong, smooth and assured, Toth closes the space between us, pulling me into him.
“Don’t ever deny me,” he murmurs, planting wet kisses along my neck and collar bone.
“Then don’t give me reason,” I respond, stroking his penis, “and you shall not be denied.” Well, at least not tonight, I think as we tenderly hold hands, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. For me, there is no genuine emotion attached to my words or the act. It is just a part in the script, an imaginary role I am more than comfortable playing—for now.
He rubs the edge of my vulva; wets his fingers in my juices. My clitoris is hard, sticking out, exposed and vulnerable. My vagina, ho
t and ready, contracts. As he moves his body, so I move mine. He fondles his testicles, and I manipulate my clitoris. Our eyes lock together.
Toth catches sight of a clay jar on a wooden stand in the far corner. He walks over to retrieve it. “What is in it?” he asks, making his way to the other side of the roof.
“Beer. Why?”
“Good,” he says. He opens, and takes a long swig, walking back over to me. He kisses me, delivering beer into my mouth. He licks as it slides down my chin and down my chest. He tells me to hold my head back, and open my mouth. I obey, and he turns the jar up and pours, its contents spilling out of my mouth. He licks all over me, pouring beer all over my breasts, then sucking and slurping it up. “Mmm…you tastes so good.”
I let out a soft moan.
“I want you to get on your knees,” he says, “and spread your legs wide, then I want you to arch your back and stick your backside out. I want to taste and eat the forbidden hole.”
My clitoris twitches as my juices run down my leg. I am excited, and more than willing to submit myself to him in any way he wants. I get on the mat and follow his instructions. He licks the seam of my backside, then flaps his warm, wet tongue against its opening. He buries his tongue in, then his finger. I moan again. Feel my breath catch in my throat.
“I will make sweet love to this tender jewel,” he says in between moans. He buries his nose into my seam, then inhales—deep and hard. “Mmmm…you smell and taste as sweet as the nectar from the lotus.”
He pushes two fingers in, gets them in down to his knuckles, then pulls out. Then sticks them back in. He is teasing me. I wind my hips. The tight ring of flesh, hugging his fingers, puckers and twitches with the flick of his tongue. He slips a finger inside and I moan—spreading my legs wider—and gyrate my hips as his finger burrows deeper inside of me. He removes his finger, replacing it with his tongue as he pulls open my cheeks, tracing along the outer edges of my hole. His mouth caresses me; his tongue makes love to me. I hump my backside against his mouth, twisting and rearing and moaning.
“Mmm…mmm…uh…uh…ooooh…that’s right, Toth, eat me… tongue me deep and wet,” I say, panting. Toth is slurping and licking and blowing my anus. Taking me places I never knew possible.
“Hold open your sweet cheeks for me,” he says, slapping my backside. My buttocks bounce against the sting. I pull them open, wide and ready for what’s to come. Toth is a master at eating my backside, and I feel myself slipping into a frenzied, mind-boggling orgasm as he slips one, then two fingers into my hole and reaches between my legs with his other hand and fondles my clitoris, then slides two fingers into my slickness. I lose myself in excitement and in pleasure as he slowly inches his manhood into my tight, burning hole. I grimace, clutching the mat cloth.
“Uh…”
“Relax…it will stop hurting,” he says, leaning over and kissing my back. “Let me dig open your walls, and travel to where no man has been.”
He inches more of himself inside of me.
“Uh…”
He reaches around and fondles my breasts as he pushes himself further, stretching the tight ring of flesh that now aches and burns and twitches to accommodate the length and width of him, the veined trunk of his hardness pulsing and pushing against resistance, against need, against want, against desire—piercing me, causing the intense sweetness of pain and warmth and pleasure to swirl in my lower back, then explode through my body.
“Oh, yes,” I sigh, pumping my hips to meet his slow, thoughtful thrusts. “I’m so wet…mmmph….mmmph…”
“That’s it, Raghaba…take it all,” he whispers into my ear, the heat from his loins escaping through his mouth, causing my skin to tingle. “Oh, beautiful one, you are so tight,” he moans. “You feel so good…”
I clench my teeth. “Uh…,” I moan, craning my neck to see him. His eyes are closed and his bottom lip is pulled in. He plants his hands on my hips and moans as he maneuvers his hips in many different directions, hitting the center, the sides and the bottom of my rectum. “Uh…uh…it feels soooo good.”
