When he sets me down my feet are on cold marble. The room is dark but there is a familiar smell; the scent of his skin, his soap. Owen drags a dimmer switch up and faded lights twinkle on above us. We’re in his bathroom. He reaches over and starts the rain shower. My tits rise and fall quickly, my breath so fast I almost feel dizzy.
We’re going to take a shower together. This is the moment. We are going to be naked together. And then my knees go weak and my head grows dark, and when my senses return to me, Owen is cradling me in his arms. I push away and stand in front of him.
“This is all I think of,” I murmur nervously, my body flush with desire, his presence attacking me from inside. I need to release this all-consuming feeling that is crippling me. I can’t do anything but take him, I have to take him. I pull the swimsuit down, the wet nylon dragging slowly over my damp body. I stand in front of him completely bare, my pink nipples stiffen to him, for him. My wet hair is spread across my breasts and I lick my lips, letting my tongue rest in the corner of my mouth.
His chest heaves, his breath audible, his passion visible. He tugs at the string inside his shorts and in two pulls they are magically unraveled. He pushes his trunks down and stands before me, bare.
My eyes travel up the length of his legs, rich with definition. My chest pulls madly as my eyes make their way to his sex; his erection is a trunk, thick and vast, powerful, standing tall against his trim middle. The head of it is flushed, glistening, and I can see that he too is aching for me. His belly is lined with muscle, his chest peppered lightly with hair, masculine and sexy. I react to his body and let a deprived whimper slip past my lips.
He sighs loudly, it comes from somewhere deep inside him and it’s a sigh of pleasure, I think, though I can’t be certain. I stride forward and feel his massive cock brush against my belly and I feel weak. I can’t believe this is happening, I think to myself, stepping into the shower, the rain roof flowing freely.
“They slipped briefly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald
He steps in behind me and the frail lights walk over his body sensually, calling my urges to come out and play. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my quivering naked body against his. His thick sex pushes against me and I moan instinctually as it does. He grabs my face urgently and covers my mouth with his, kissing me harder than before. There is urgency and desperation in his kiss, like he too has been yearning for this for ages, he’s starved for me the way I am starving for him, too. I drop one hand from his neck and rest my palm on his chest, running my fingertips through a small patch of chest hair. Oh God, he’s all man. There is nothing about him that doesn’t set me on fire, quite honestly. I give my fingers a few moments massaging his chest gently before turning my hand sideways and letting it… drift. He inhales sharply when my hand reaches his waist, and though he knows very well where I am going, he still gasps again when I reach his member. I wrap my hand around it, tightly, and press my face to his chest, listening to his heart soar while I stroke his stiffness.
His extremely satisfied reaction to my touch revs me, and I feel my need pushing up against the seam of me, aching to be parted. But I need to please him. In case he changes his mind, I need to know what it’s like to taste him, to bring him to his knees with my mouth.
Slowly, cautiously, I lower myself down onto my knees in front of him, blinking up through the rain water pouring down on me. I can see his face, twisted up with tension, the look he wears is one of intense pressure brewing deep inside him. I recognize it. It is how I look, aching to have him, needing to fuck him, wanting him so badly I was touching myself and thinking of him.
And now I’m naked at his feet, about to take his glorious cock into my mouth and taste his come. It’s too much to think about. Still gripping his member with my hand, I steer it to my mouth and let my tongue tickle the underside of his swollen head. A drop of creamy deliciousness slips out and I lap at it eagerly, sucking down his salty excitement. He groans, quite loudly, and it sends goosebumps of arousal down my bare back and I think I can feel my juices slip down my thighs and pool at my knees.
I can’t brush my teeth without gagging but as soon as I begin to suckle at his length, I am overcome with the urge to take it all in, deep inside my throat, to have him tickle me in untouched places. And so, I lower my face to his body, deeper and deeper until my lips are touching his skin, his small patch of barbed hair tickling my upper lip. The noise he makes must come from deep in his balls; it is a groan, throaty and powerful, and I realize this man has gone too long without this. I pull my head back slowly so that just his dripping tip is left in my mouth. His hands are in my hair, not pushing me towards him or forcing me but rather, running his thumbs across my cheeks. My tongue circles his head, sucking in the saltiness that forms on his peak. And then, as he is gasping for a breath, his need soaring, I bob down on him again, tightly. The head of his erection tickles the back of my throat, so far back that I gag a little, thick saliva dripping onto my thighs. He groans hungrily, loudly, and puts his hands on either side of my face, riding my jaw, and begins to peel me back. I blink up at him madly, the need to taste him the only thing I can think of.
“Please,” the word comes out ardent and hungry. He releases my face and I bob down on his length once more. My inner voice is speechless, I think, or just shocked into silence.
His thighs twitch under my palms as he pushes down my throat, my urge to cough and gag is immense-but my urge to feel him spill in me- down my throat-is far greater. He moans gently, his hands urgently grip my face as I sink back down onto him, my lips sticky on his body from my saliva. He tenses, the tips of his fingers grow heavy against my face, and then rasps “oh”.
His release is powerful, surge after surge of creamy warmth, washing up my throat to my tongue then sliding back down as I gulp as much of it as I can. Instantly he’s panting, breathing so hard I wonder at one point if he’s okay and then I feel his strong hands under my arms, dragging me up to my feet. He settles me against the glass shower wall and leans down, taking my mouth with his, kissing me deeply, the taste of himself surely washing back into his mouth. He doesn’t care, I can see it in the darkness that takes over his eyes, the air between us on fire with overwhelming need. He cups my full breast with one hand, squeezes gently; his touch makes me moan, loudly, and he takes my mouth to stifle my cries. As he kisses me, he rubs my stomach for a moment then lets his hand wander down, over my mound. I dig my face into his chest and cry out as he parts me, his broad fingers delving between my sticky, soaking lips and brushing against the opening of my sex. Suddenly I feel quite embarrassed-I’m so wet that I’m pooling onto his fingers as he plays at my opening, teasing me by tracing light circles, daring to enter. He lowers his head so his mouth is above my ear and whispers in a husky tone, “I love that you’re so ready for me, baby.” Oh shit. Did he just say that? His voice so sexy, and he called me baby?! Oh Mr. Bolling has a different side of him in the bedroom. And I fucking love it. If at all possible, I think I am falling more in love with this man.
He begins to push two fingers past my opening and my knees go weak, bending to his will, giving him full access to touch me. God how badly do I need him to touch me.
But then I jerk forward and wrap my hands around the base of his neck. I forgotten an important bit; I think.
“Wait. I’m sure you assumed this but I just have to say it, because I don’t know if it changes what you’re going to do… or, I guess I mean, how you’re going to touch me,” after the nervous babble I kiss him deeply, his fingertips still grazing my opening.
“But I’m a virgin. I’ve never…” my voice trails off as he nips at my lips and kisses me deeply, his tongue moving with such power that he drives my head back and I moan into him.
“Hold on to me,” he rasps, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Within a few moments he’s pulled us from the shower, turned off the water and lights, and laid me down in his bed. The soft, luscious comforter pillows around me, and I think this may truly be bliss.
“Your bed is the most luxurious thing I’ve ever felt,” I whisper, running my hands under the pillows and finding pockets of coolness in the sheets. He climbs over me, kissing me, his chest pressing against mine as he tries to control his breathing, as it is wild and relentless. My thighs fall apart when his sex brushes against mine and I arch my back, my bottom lip tucked tightly under my teeth. I reach down, clawing madly at his shoulders while he lowers himself down the length of my body, stopping between my thighs. I shudder, a faint whimper making its way out before he presses his lips to my place, my place that yearns for him madly. My place that is now glistening with my arousal for him.
His tongue parts me and my heart, I have to clutch my chest because of what my heart does. His mouth is on me. My breath stilled for so long I’m now panting, desperate for air… and him. I gasp and moan, drawing my knees up to my elbows. He groans into my wetness, lapping at my swollen spot while my toes curl and I dig my heels into my own thighs. I look down at him, and though the room is quite dark, moonlight pours in through a sliver in the drapes and a trail of light cascades across his back. I see it ebb and flow, the muscles straining and relaxing as he moves between my thighs, tasting me, eating me. I have seen this in movies, and when I’ve touched myself before it felt good, but what he’s doing to me now, I think to myself, cannot be topped. I feel pleasure in the tip of my nose, it wiggles through my face making it go numb, my lips swollen from biting them. My arms and legs are surely made of fire for how hot they burn; my core tight and scorching. My stomach twitches and my breasts heave wildly as he pushes me up on the bed with each pass of his skilled tongue. The pressure is building to an unbearable depth now and I feel my legs tighten. His talented tongue dives inside of me, grazing my walls and teasing me. Then he kisses my clit, sucks it gently and it lifts to his will. He laps at it and my hands clench the comforter with all my strength, I succumb to this unruly need that flows through me so powerfully. I release and as I do, he puts two fingers inside me deeply, a ripping sensation pulling through me. I come on his fingers, I come in his mouth, my eager juices set free, overflowing on his chin and dripping down his wrist. When I’m finally done, I cannot breathe, I am utterly breathless. He settles on the bed next to me. He doesn’t roll over and try to cuddle me, he doesn’t try to kiss me, rather, he lies flat on his back next to me and takes my hand in his, squeezes it gently, and holds it tight to his chest.
I am so in love with this man.
We lie still and quiet for a moment before his calm and smooth voice breaks the silence.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He props his large frame up on one elbow and leans down over me, brushing his lips against mine.
My chest is instantly heaving under the sensuality of his mannerisms. He does it all so different than I imagined, but it’s so, so much better than I ever dreamed of.
“Yes,” I purr, my lips grazing his while I speak.
He kisses me, short but passionate, and pulls away. I can hear him move through the room and then he pulls open his door, light leaking in from the hallway. He pulls in a massive tray, no, two massive trays, and sets them at the foot of his bed. He flips on a dimmer light, which causes a small bit of light to come out from around the crown molding on the walls, up near the ceiling. I’ve never seen lights there before but they’re soothing, romantic even. I shudder at the thought of Owen bedding a woman in here -the thin blonde woman from the office-and look up, part of a grimace left on my face.
“What is it?” he asks, and I see his naked torso in the light again and it takes my breath away. He is so strong and sexy, masculine and gorgeous. The chest hair that lightly covers him, his body thick with disciplined muscle, the softness to his skin. And the pressure begins to rebuild itself, starting directly in my wet spot, tingling throughout my lips.
I shake my head and swallow down the thought of Owen with other women.