*anything in italics is Liam
I give a low moan of anticipation, something that sounds more animal than human to my ears. By now I am as familiar with her breasts as I can possibly be, but I still love them. I love breasts, period, some guys are ass guys, some guys are hair guys. Me? I always go for the ta-tas. And why not? There’s very little that can excite me more than an elegantly displayed rack. And the sense of power, to me, it’s like the same sort of feeling when playing with a man’s balls. You can do anything to a girl when you have her breast in your hands. I would never admit this to anybody but the owner of said breasts, but I enjoy that power.
I honestly think my breasts must have become more sensitive since I gave birth. They'd never been this sensitive before. But I kind of like this feeling.
As one hand slides lower, while the other teases and caresses along with my mouth, I can feel the warm wetness between her legs, and that . . . my body responds before I have a chance to think about it. I can feel him straining against me, and I reach to undo his jeans, his boxers, so I can release him. I slide his belt through the loop holes and toss it to the floor. My fingers fumble for the button on his jeans. My hands can barely get the zipper undone. Somehow I manage though, and his jeans drop to the floor. He kicks them aside, and then my fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, and I slowly peel them down, tossing them aside as well.
For some reason I love being undressed by a woman. It’s like she just can’t wait anymore for what I have to offer, and that makes me feel good. I am very glad I am not wearing socks, because I am not sure I can stop to take them off! And making love with your socks on should only happen on a really cold night, or if you’re in a porn flick. I sigh as my dick uncurls from the boxers, the anticipation is killing me but it’s definitely going to get what it wants tonight, perhaps more than once if I have anything to say about it. I am not sure I will be satisfied with just one session.
I want her so badly, I’m almost intimidated by the strength of my need. I vow, when she’s done with me and her thirst has been slaked a little, to go back and do it all over again. I want Jane, every part of her, but it seems to me, as she pushes me down, that she doesn’t seem to need it for herself. And with that thought, I grin. Yep, I can feel the horns. Well, I’ll let her have me, and then I will take her, indulging myself by making sure we both get what we want, and we will both go to sleep satisfied tonight. That sounds like a plan, sure enough.
My raw need surprises me. The last time I'd been this needy, well, I'd never done anything before. I've got a bit of experience now. I get him to lie down on the bed, and then I kneel in front of him, brushing my hair along his cock, and then take it in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, and instinctively my right hand reaches to cup his balls. I feel his reaction to my touch; he's starting to get hard, not hard enough to perform, really, but I'm sure that I can get him there.
I groan when she starts playing with me. It feels so good to have somebody else do it, for once. I let my hips rise, trying to get her to take me even deeper into her mouth. I am a lucky man that she is so willing. Most guys I know would give their left nut – which would really defeat the purpose – to have a woman so eager to give blow jobs. I run one of my hands through her hair, just to touch her hair, not to try to control what she’s doing. So soft. So silky. It’s one of the best parts of a woman, so far as I’m concerned. Women should always have long hair. What else are we supposed to run our fingers through? I close my eyes and let my head hang back. Oh, it’s so nice. I grin. It will get even better later. I think about what I want to do to her. Fingering. Maybe even in her rump, if she’ll let me. Muff diving. Oooh. Yeah. Titty sex. Doggy style. I gasp sharply as that image fills my mind. For all that she likes to initiate things, we really haven’t gone far from missionary style. “Oh, yeah,” I moan aloud. Everything I haven’t been able to do. Tonight. She has no idea what’s coming.
I fondle his balls, lightly, and I can feel a slight twitch from one of his legs. My left hand steadies that, and then I continue what I'm doing. I was going to get him off tonight, if it was the last thing I did. I need this, and I am sure that he does as well.
His cock feels harder in my mouth. I hear him groan. I know its time. I remove my lips from his cock, and position myself so he can enter easily. I'm not sure if this is going to hurt, as its been so long, but again, I don't care. I'm a woman on a mission. I know what I want tonight, and by God, I was going to get it.
If I wait any longer, I am going to hurt myself. And as I open my eyes and feel her move away so that she can open to me, dear god, if I wasn’t already ready, the sight of her, legs spread, quivering, eager, begging me without words, that would do it. Oh yeah. I love what I see. I kneel over her, and enter cautiously, but I meet no resistance. I take a thigh in each hand, giving me an anchor for my movement. I am going to try to not leave bruises.
We roll so he is on top of me, and he begins to thrust. Yes, it hurts a bit, but I'm not going to show him that. No, of course not. I have a high tolerancy for pain. It would take a lot for me to admit that I was hurting, or that something was hurting me . . . well at least in the physical sense. Emotional, well that was a whole different kettle of fish all together.
Oh, God, this is good. So good. It doesn’t matter that my hair is in my eyes, or that I’m getting a cramp in one of my calves. I call her name in a ragged chorus, multiple times. I feel invincible. The feel of her, enveloping me, something I haven’t experienced for months, encourages me to greater efforts. God, I needed this. And I know she did too, whether she knows it or not. I redouble my movements, hoping she can feel the love, the regard, the desire I have for her.
I buck my hips against him, my desire taking over. I feel him driving deeper inside. Each thrust brings me closer. I can feel it. God, so this is what it was like. I had honestly forgotten what it was like to make love. My hands grasp his shoulders as I continue to rock against him. I can feel a wave starting to wash over me. Oh good god, it was happening. I was . . . coming . . .
I grin, a little, to myself. Here I was worried about being careful and sensitive and not wanting to hurt her, but she’s gripping my body as though she wants to pull me actually into all of her. I will have bruises tomorrow, but that’s all right. Then, suddenly, the spasms that clench around my dick take me tightly and for a moment, I can’t move either forward or backward. The clout of her unconscious embrace makes me dizzy, and I gasp out something, though I have no idea what I said. Maybe she’ll tell me later. She releases me just enough so that I can continue to enter her, but the rhythmic pulsing, combined with what I’m doing myself, send me right over the edge. I come a few moments after she does.
My nails dig into his back as my orgasm hits. I moan, loudly, my hips still jerking against him. A couple more thrusts, and I feel him release inside of me. His hips buck against mine, and our mouths meet in a fury of passion. I breathe him, taste him, feel him. We collapse to the bed, still breathing heavily. “Thank you,” I murmur. Its the only words that can truly express how I feel.
I stay inside her for a moment, savoring the feel, then gently reach down and ease myself out of her. She clenches again as I do so, as though she doesn’t want me to leave. I smile, putting the back of my hand against her cheek. “You’re welcome,” I say, in a voice raw from all the apparently unconscious sounds I was making. “But this is only halftime.”
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