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What caused them? Are they why he got such a huge piece of artwork on his back? What does the bear symbolize? I'm pretty sure these questions are too intimate to ask a one-night stand. So, I don't.
But I wonder.
The man I am practically drooling over bends to take off his boots, giving me a delicious view of his perfect backside. Okay, there's nothingpracticallyabout it. I swipe moisture from my lips with the back of my hand, greedy to see it all.
I wait with bated breath while he undoes his trousers and shoves them, right along with the black knit boxers clinging to his muscular buttocks, down his legs. He turns back around, and I finally suck in air that almost chokes me.
Fully aroused, his penis juts out and upward with impressive length and girth. He's huge.
If I'm going to jump off the bridge of celibacy, there could be no better specimen of masculinity to do it with.
He crosses the space between us so fast, I barely realize he's moved. Wrapping his hand around my hair, he holds it like a ponytail, keeping my head in place. He dips down so our lips touch. Just that. A simple touch.
I make a needy sound and I push up toward him, wanting a deeper kiss.
He gives it to me, suddenly devouring my mouth and I respond with an alien, wild passion. His big hands are on my back, touching and pressing me closer. Then he undoes the clasp of my bra and pulls it from me.
My soaked panties are next, but when I go to step out of my heels, he says, "Don't. Leave them on."
With an arm under my bottom, he picks me up and carries me across the room until I feel the wall at my back. Then he lifts my body like it's nothing and drapes me over his shoulders. My sex is right in front of his face. He breathes against my most intimate flesh and I shudder in response.
Inhaling like he's savoring my scent, he nuzzles forward. My own head thunks back against the wall, my hands digging into his hair of their own accord.
How is he holding me up like this? I'm not tall, but I'm by no means tiny. I don't wear a size two, in fact I shop in the plus size department when I have time to look for new clothes. My boobs and butt are what is referred to as curvy. I have thighs that will never be referred to as pencils; my tummy is not flat, much less concave.
Yet, he shows no strain from this position. That is so freaking hot.
His tongue flicks out to taste me, laving my folds and then pressing against my clitoris. Already so hot, I am gasping on the verge of orgasm. How did he get me here so fast?
Uncaring, my body responds to his teeth and tongue with unabashed delight. He eats me out like he's enjoying himself, not like he's chasing my climax so he can get his rocks off. His tongue is all over my vulva, but then he thrusts it inside my vagina and I cry out.
I haven't had anything but my own finger in there in five years. I touch myself to get off to relieve stress. It never feels like this.
Rubbing his nose up my labia and over my clit, he sends jolts of pleasure sparking along my nerve endings. When his mouth settles against my swollen nub, he nips it with his teeth.
"Oh!" I gasp out.
Then he sucks on my clitoris and ecstasy radiates out from my core.
I scream when I come, squeezing his head with my thighs, shoving myself forward to press against his willing mouth. He's not done though, and he keeps eating me until a second climax hits with even more ferocity than the first.
Then I'm begging. "Basta!Stop. It's too much.Per favore…please…"
I'm American, but in the Detroit Cosa Nostra, Italian is the first language we teach our children and it falls from my mouth too easily when I experience deep emotion. Or incredible sexual pleasure.
I don't even know this man's name and I don't care. Not right now. I'm begging him to stop, but my thighs aren't relaxing so he can move his head back, are they?
How am I twenty-eight years old and only now realizing I can feel likethis?
When my leg muscles finally give and they nearly slip off his shoulders, he does a little jog with his shoulders and I slide back. He doesn't let me fall. He doesn't even let my feet hit the floor. He puts his arms around me and unerringly carries me to the bedroom.
I would say it's instinct for a sexual master like this man, but really, there is only one door. The bathroom is through the bedroom.
He lays me on the bed before turning to go.
No way did he just give me multiple orgasms with his mouth only to leave without getting off himself. Right? Before I can fret too much about it, he's back, a small foil packet in his hand. He rips it open and rolls the condom down his length.
Then he joins me on the bed, positioned between my legs.
