mmicha

(Jessica skriver PORR!!!!! Ja jag är konstig som skriver och lägger upp men ni är perversa om ni läser HAHA!)

Jag har för övrigt inget vettigt att skriva utan lämna allt åt det ni egentligen vill ha av det här inlägget efter den där parantesen, era pervon.

Det sagt så får ni (typ Sandyshrew då, kanske Lovi om hon orkar läsa?) gärna lämna kritik om det går att finna xD

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Suddenly, she’s close, closer then she’s ever been. Their eyes meet and for a split second they lose themselves in each others eyes; no, that’s not quite true. They lose themselves in the moment, in the tension around them both. This moment, that’s been building up for weeks, months even, a moment they both have thought about more then either of them care to admit. To each other, but even less to themselves.

There is a sort of tenderness, a lingering affection, a half-smile and the sudden urge to look away because what’s in both of their eyes is truth. Emotion. Feeling. Love?

The moment breaks when she moves her head forward, pushing her lips against his, and suddenly what was there, is no more, replaces by raw urges and strong lust. The kiss is passionate, long, strong, something neither have had for years. His hands go naturally to her waist, hers around his neck, fingers interlacing with his hair.

There is no way of telling how much time passes before they break apart, both breathless. Her face is slightly flushed, his eyes intensely locked on her face. His left hand seeks upward, gently stroking her cheek, pushing through her long hair, hair like an ocean of dark flames. His eyes, dark, brooding, pensive, always thoughtful but never revealing, now showing something they have never shown, a longing that nearly shocks her, a kind of force that makes her want to give in.

They are only apart for a few seconds, though it feels like an eternity. The next kiss is fiercer on his behalf, and she is pushed back into the wall. He makes to break apart, to see if she is alright, but she grasps her head and holds him close still. Her legs wrap themselves around his waist, and his hands wrap around hers, holding her up with ease. Her fingers, neat, pale, slim, find their way to his shirt and begin unbuttoning with hasty need. The last button is found quickly and she pushed his shirt back, hands caressing the tanned skin, tracing the muscles that are tensed up from the passion.

He pulls her toward him, rough hands stroking her bare back, finding the knot that holds up her dress, pulling it up with ease. The dress falls down, her chest now bare against his, her skin paler the usual next to his tan, her breasts firm. They look soft. Her lips leave his, pulling him closer, roughly biting his neck, his shoulder, wrapping herself tighter around him. Then their lips meet again, harsher, more lustful, with a greater need for the other one, for the other ones body, to oblige to the carnal urge of the flesh.

With difficulty yet complete ease he finds his way to the bedroom, lips never leaving the other ones. They fall onto the bed, her dress disappears and he has to pause, he has to look at her. She is breathtakingly beautiful, the moonlight shining through the curtained window illuminating her skin, setting her red hair aflame, and for a moment he can’t believe she’s not just a dream, an illusion of his lonely mind.

Then she sits up and pulls him closer by his belt, which she swiftly unbuckles with expert fingers, unbuttoning his jeans. Her lips gently kiss his lower abdomen, moving over his hip bones, and she smiles as she hears him moan. This is where she excels, making them beg for it, for her. Slowly, gently, her fingers move at the edge of his boxers, playing with the hem, pushing them down and inch only to kiss the skin now uncovered, then another inch and doing the same.

She is surprised when she notices he is shaved, but doesn’t let it show. She is getting excited now as well, and it shows in her breathing, which comes out in short, harsh breaths, as though she has been exercising vigorously. Yet she knows the exercise has barely even begun.

A shudder runs through his body as she reaches the innermost shaft of his penis. Her lips are gentle and she knows what she is doing; she is in control. He isn’t quite hard, but he’s getting there, and she is more then willing to help. Her hands push down his pants and boxers so they won’t be in the way, and with her tongue she plays her way from shaft to tip, knowing precisely what to touch and how much to touch it.

He moans again, unsure of what to do with his hands, unsure of what to do with himself. His hands go to her hair, finding comfort in the thick waves, as she carefully closes her lips around his penis but only to play more with her tongue against the head. His hand goes up to his mouth, biting it for control, and she lets him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Then she goes deep, her nose touching his abdomen, his penis against her throat, and suddenly she is in paradise again. She loves this as much as he does. She pulls away and his hand, almost instinctively, pushes gently against the back of her head, not wanting her to leave.

This is power-play of the highest sort and she is the master. He can do nothing but accept her will.

It doesn’t take long before it is too much for him, before he has to push her down and kiss her so fiercely she doesn’t if he’s the same person for a second. He kicks off his pants, lying on top of her in the bed, and a large, rough hand finds her breast, the other holding him up so that he’s above her. Her breathing elevates, her chest rising higher, pushing slightly upward, as his lips leave hers and go down along her jaw, nibbling gently at her ear as they pass, then down her neck, her collarbones, until they find a nipple.

A sharp intake of breath and a shudder of pleasure as he kisses her breast, sucking her nipple gently, the hand that had played with her other breast now leaving to trail lower, along the slight curve of her hip and down her thigh, across, then traveling up along the inside, careful not to touch too much. It would seem he is not entirely new to driving a woman insane.

Her breathing is harsher then his now, as his hand crosses just along the line of her silk underwear and over to the other thigh, playing the same game there. His fingers graze the top of her inner thigh and again, she makes a sharp intake of breath, not quite a moan but not quite not. This is a game of teasing and even though he wants her so bad, it is too much fun to pass it up.

His lips leave her breast and travel down along her stomach, over her navel and down. With his teeth he pulls down her underwear far enough to lick the mound and here she can’t help herself but she moans, her body twisting with a wondrous agony. His tongue finds its way to her clitoris and gives it more then a gentle flick and she feels like screaming for him, so long has it been since she last felt like this. But she struggles to stay quiet, tearing at her own hair and biting her hands as he starts licking and kissing her.

He comes up again just when she gives up and gives a quivering whimper of pleasure, discreetly wiping his face on the cover underneath them but she pulls him to her, bites his earlobe and hisses to him, “Fuck you, fuck me now.”

He is not slow to oblige. Her underwear fall to the floor and he rolls off, swiftly finding a condom. She has a moment to wonder if he planned this, before he’s back and blocks all thoughts from her mind with a harsh kiss and a rough hand touching her inner thigh. Her hand tenderly reaches for his penis, but he grasps her by the wrist and pushes her down again, then pushes into her.

She moans without really knowing it as he enters, and so does he. They take a moment, just lingering in the feeling of being so close, before her free hand reaches for his back, nails scratching and fingers pushing him closer, trying to urge him on. She also pushes her hips against him, trying to force him deeper. Again he isn’t slow to oblige, but pushes further in, then raises his hips and pushes in again.

They find a rhythm fast, one that fits them both very well. Her moans go louder and louder, her shame forgotten now, all thoughts forgotten. The only thing left is to feel. And she feels, oh dear lord does she feel, every move and thrust and the beating of his pulse inside of her. And he feels, her warm skin, her soft hair, her gentle lips.

Her moans reach a crescendo and she pulls him closer, wrapping her legs around him again, so tight he is forced to stop moving for a while. He hears her heart beat between them, through himself, feels her chest rising and falling in a very rapid speed. “Just a moment,” she whispers, her voice dry and weak. She leans her head back, her back arching ever-so-slightly against him, and she moans, a long a drawn out sound that arouses him.

Then she kisses his lips, closing her eyes, and whispers, “Continue.”

She is a little quieter to begin with, but it doesn’t take long until she starts moaning again. Now he can’t help himself much anymore, his head is spinning from the effort and she starts making his job much harder, the muscles tightening around his shaft. A spark in her eye tells him she’s doing it on purpose.

He doesn’t hold out much longer - with a half-sigh, half-groan, he relaxes the muscles and releases the tension, and then he’s miles away, floating in a heavenly sky. His head is pressed against her shoulder, his hand gripping her arm tightly and she gasps, but not in a bad way. He can tell.

With great struggle he manages to return to reality, rolling off of her and pulling her close, so they are both lying on their sides facing each other. She doesn’t protest. His body shakes and she gently strokes his back, kissing his neck. No words are exchanged here. He closes his eyes and disappears from reality for a while, and when he opens them she isn’t next to him anymore. The door is open and he notices his robe gone from the wall.

He finds her outside on his balcony, shivering in the cold with only his thin robe around her. She’s smoking, a habit he ordinarily finds slightly disturbing but somehow, it suits her. She looks so beautiful with the cigarette in her hand, the dazedly thoughtful look on her face. He doesn’t go out to join her, it’s too cold and he feels too awkward to go out naked.

After a few minutes, she comes in, smelling of vanilla and cinnamon and a faint trace of tobacco underneath. She smiles, a little startled that he is there, but doesn’t say anything. Only that smile, enough to tell him that she is pleased, she is happy.

He takes her hand and leads her back to the bedroom, pushing the robe off of her shoulders and pulling her down under the covers. Her skin is cold now, and she shivers from the warmth of his body and the warmth of the bed. He trails kisses over her neck and shoulders, pulling her close, his arms embracing her. She doesn’t protest. She doesn’t mind.