I pulled my tie loose as she watched, and she held her legs high as I cast aside my shirt. Her feet landed back on my bare chest, and the skin on skin burned me up. I loosened my belt, and pulled out my cock, working it just a little. I braced myself, hands against the back of the chair, my face in hers, as the head of my cock found her waiting.
“Yes…” she hissed. “Oh, God, fuck me, Mark… please fuck me…” But I surprised her.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to the floor with me, guiding her on top as I kicked off my trousers. She straddled me, her warm pussy pinning my cock to my belly, and she rocked back and forth so naturally, teasing me so gently that the pleasure was excruciating. She was a goddess above me, her hair shiny and soft in the candlelight, eyes twinkling as her fingers traced the wax swirls on her body.
“Pretty patterns,” she whispered.
“Pretty patterns on a beautiful girl,” I groaned. “You’re such a good girl, Helen. You were perfect.”
“I really wanted it,” she said, and her breath was raspy. “I loved it.” Her fingers explored me, fluttered down my chest to my belly and up again. Soft tickles around my nipples, and her eyes ate me up. “I can’t believe you’re really mine…”
“Take me,” I said. “Find what feels good for you.”
The hint of a blush on her cheeks made my cock twitch under her. “You want me to ride you?”
“I want you to use my body to explore your own. Find what feels nice for you, Helen.”
She raised herself enough to take my cock in her hand, and guided it to her slit. I held my breath as she held hers, exhaling as the tightness of her inched its way down to consume me. It was torturously slow, and blissfully divine, and her expression of wonder was the most beautiful thing in creation.
“This feels so good…” she rasped. “It feels so nice…”
I groaned as she took me all the way inside, fighting back the urge to thrust and buck and plough her sweet little cunt. Her movements were fluid and feline, but shy, so shy at first. She circled her hips in gentle motions, adjusting to the swell of me inside her, and it was bliss.
“Your pussy is divine, Helen.”
“It feels nice like this…” she breathed. “I feel so full…”
I reached for her breasts, flicking my thumbs across her waxy nipples as she found her groove. Her movements became more urgent, more pronounced. She arched her back and pushed forward, and my cock pulsed inside her. She moaned and ground against me, and instinct took hold of her, she became needy in her rhythm, her lips parting in sweet sounds of lust.
“Oh, Mark… I feel you… I really feel you.” “Take me, Helen, I’m all yours.”
She braced herself, back arched and her hands on my thighs, sliding up and down my cock so slowly that I had to grit my teeth. And then she shunted, just a little, and the angle changed everything. She circled her hips and whimpered and I knew she had the spot. My thumb brushed her clit and she cried out.
“That’s right, Helen… that’s it…” “It feels… it feels… strange…” “Go with it…”
“It feels… I feel…”
“Just go with it, Helen… that’s perfect…”
“Oh, Mark… it feels so nice… it feels so fucking nice…”
And then she was lost to me, a grinding, squirming, delicious bundle of pleasure. Her nerves disappeared, and she rode me, deep and frantically, consumed by the promise of orgasm until her hands were frantic, too, her nails digging into my skin as she
attempted to pull me into her. I followed her lead, and bucked my hips, and she squealed. “Oh fuck! Yes!”
“Find that spot, Helen…”
I thrust again and the noise from her was feral. “Fuck…” she whimpered. “Oh, fuck, yes! Fuck me!”
My hands took her hips and they held her there. And then I fucked her, thrusting into her as she bounced on me, and she was a whimpering, squirmy mess, and it was perfect.
“I need to pee…” she said, and her eyes were wide and mortified. I smiled. “You don’t.”
“I do…” she insisted. “I need to pee…” “Trust me,” I said. “Just don’t stop.”
And then it happened for her. A look of bewilderment flashed across her eyes, and she groaned, and pinched my thighs in her fingers, and the urges consumed her and burned her up. She was incoherent as she wriggled, making noises that made no conscious sense, but that I understood completely, and her whole body tensed and jerked on mine.
And I fucked her. My God, how I pumped her sweet pussy.
She gripped me like a vice, and when she came it was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt. Her tight little cunt squeezed me and milked me and sent me toppling over the edge just as she went.
Perfect shock on her face, perfect shock and raw emotion, and pleasure, and even a hint of fear of the unknown. I pulled her hands from my thighs, and I took them in mine and I squeezed them tight.
And there was white behind my eyes, and the pounding of my heart in my ears, and the world felt so far away. “Mark… I… just…”
“I know…” I said. “I know…”
She turned to jelly as the rush subsided, her limbs quivering and weak. I pulled her onto me and held her tight, her head on my shoulders and her ragged breath against my neck.
“Beautiful, beautiful girl,” I whispered as I stroked her hair. “I’ve never felt like this…”
I smiled and breathed in her hair. “It’s just the beginning, Helen.”
I was still inside her, my cock still twitching, and I never wanted it to end, never wanted this feeling to leave me.
She made little whimpers, and they were somewhere between giggles and sobs, and when I angled her face to mine her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.
“Are you ok?” I said.
She nodded. “I just… my heart can’t contain this…”
I smoothed her hair and a tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled, and it was the most crazy beautiful expression. “I love you,” I said, and I meant it.
The creature in my arms was more than I could understand, more than I could rationalise or fathom. She was beauty, and life, and soul. She was the promise in the morning light and the curious shadow of twilight. She was the ghost of winter in the autumn shade. She was the green of freshly mown grass, and the scent of cinnamon on the breeze. She was indigo pink, and rain on my cheeks. She was a sacred treasure and nothing less.
I wanted to protect her. Wanted to love her. Wanted to consume her, and tear her apart and make her whole again. I wanted to possess her. Wanted to worship her. Wanted to wrap her soul in mine and keep her there for all time.
“I really love you, Mr Roberts. I really, really love you,” she said. “I love you so much I don’t even know how to bear it.
And I’ll never leave this. I’ll never leave you. I’m yours, and I’ve always been yours, and I’ll be yours forever.” And I believed her.
My God, I actually believed her.
Streaks of beautiful white wax, dripping and rolling so slowly over her skin. I timed the heat with her breaths, with her movements, and with the steady thrust of my fingers, and she rolled with me, rolled with the sharp little floods of heat. Tiny drips coated her belly, splattering her so perfectly, and she began to whimper as she knew what was coming.
“Keep your legs spread wide.”
She nodded, and closed her eyes as I lifted her feet and placed them against my chest. Her weight shifted, her balance precarious and dependent on me. Her legs were taut as she spread her thighs, and she was bared to me, her beautiful wet pussy glistening.
She cried out as the first drips hit her, and her thighs clenched so tight they shuddered. “Oh, God… Mark…”
“Don’t be scared.”
She took a breath. “I’m not…”
I marked her pussy with a line of wax, and she quivered. “You look so beautiful, Helen.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Spread your pussy for me, nice and wide with your fingers.”
I watched the breath from her open mouth as she stared at me, and her dainty fingers did what they were told. The bud of her clit was swollen and needy, her slit so pink and wet for me. She bit her lip as I moved the candle there, squeaking out cute little whimpers of nerves.
“Ready?”
I felt her tense up. “Yes, Mark, sir. Oh God…”
Tiny drips splashed her most sensitive places and she shuddered and moaned and rocked in her seat, but she was smiling, making such delicious utterings of shock and excitement and pain.
“That’s my girl.”
I reached for another candle, and red wax met white, and turned pink, pink swirls and splashes on her tender pussy, and streaks on her gorgeous thighs, and her chest was heaving, head tipped back.
“Mr Roberts… please…”
“Good girl…” I teased the wax at her pussy, and the downy hairs of her pulled tight and made her squirm and wriggle. Then I let myself free as the muse called and demanded more. Swirls of red wax across her breasts, splashing her nipples with colour, and she was beautiful. I lit more candles, blue and purple and green, and I decorated her, my beautiful girl in splotches and swirls, colour on colour, blending and pooling on her skin. And then I touched her, I touched her pretty pussy until she bucked at my fingertips, until her eyes were glazed and her breath was short, and the patterns on her breasts rose and fell for me, a living canvas.