Fiction
12 Mar 2018


How long had she been lying here? she could tell that morning was coming from the light that had changed from deep darkness to grey light edging its way into this room. Her eyes were tired and adjusting to the light. Her body felt wide awake and detached in so many ways, it had betrayed her over and over again since the moment he had first touched her, stroking her wrist with his fingers the evening before as they had enjoyed a drink.

Her mouth agape, her breathing was shallow and shaky. How ? another question that had echoed and vibrated through her mind, why is her body ... her body that she knew intimately behaving in this way ? and then it came again. Her body shuddering, the feeling of his tongue on her, stroking her sex with delicate pressure as if discovering each and every one of the millions of sensory receptors on her body that seemed to be firing all at once. She felt it building, her pupils widening, her eyes blinking, her breath gasping, her legs instinctively closing on him, her hands reaching for him torn between pushing him from her and pulling him closer and tighter wanting him to take her there. Her body convulsed as the angle altered, moving from up and down to across her and she could feel his hand stroking her hip in time as the other fingers traced her body and slipped within joining his tongue basking in her body. Her head rocking side to side now, she raised her chin towards the ceiling and emitted a groan.

Instinctively he stopped. His mouth and tongue basked in her, her body pulsing he knew she was close and he could feel her legs around him wanting him to continue. He allowed himself a smile across his mouth as he pulled back and waited .... the groan moments ago .... was deliciously low and his mind replayed it as he groaned and moved his fingers casually up and down her.

His eyes now locked on hers that were demanding and questioning her mouth still ajar.

The smile across his mouth and his body still above hers ... his fingers holding her body and mind where he wanted ... his entire being aroused by this. He had done this to her now over hours, using all of his body and creativity, allowing there bodies to flow, to touch, to synchronise in a rythm that he dictated, that he set based on her bodies response to his touch.

The first time he'd brought her to the edge she'd thrashed in frustration, anger and confusion, her body had poured all around him from within and saturated them and her eyes, her mind, her entire body screamed at him to take her over that edge he had perilously brought her too. She wanted, demanded satisfaction from him but that need and conclusion was his palette to torment and tease her body and every part of her mind.

This was where he played, this is where he indulged in his art and creativity. There was no rush, no end for either of them. The primal being within him was satiated each and every time he took her to that delicious edge where her entired body was perilously close and engulfed by the pleasure he brought to her.

His eyes closed, he groaned once again and lowered himself blowing across her once more.


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