My world seemed to stand still, as if hypnotized by the rhythm of our breathing. I love the gentle coziness of passion’s aftermath; often it seems like time has ceased. The soft yellow glow of streetlights lazily peeked between the generic blinds, a hazy light just bright enough to reflect against the shimmer of our naked flesh.
The calm after the storm is the way I visualize our post-sex moments. I think they are, perhaps, the most beautiful moments we share, our bodies entangled and aching to stay connected, to be as one. This is when I feel the most intimately connected to him, it feels unbreakable.
I look up into his eyes, beautiful eyes which so easily consume me, whether with love or hunger. I feel the familiar ache build again. Under his steady gaze, I lean in and coat his lips with light kisses, pressing my body against his, urging him to feel the ache that is now demanding my attention. I feel his body stir, responding to the pull of desire.
Passing my hands lightly over the topography of his body, I relish the feel of his skin. I close my eyes and focus, committing this moment to memory. I never want to forget the salty taste of his skin, his manly scent, or the lust filled noises ignited by my touch.
The sensations are intoxicating, a drug that I have no desire or ability to resist.
My breathing becomes ragged as I straddle his hips in one svelte movement and see his eyes reflecting my own want. Gripping his shaft in my delicate hand, I stroke his growing erection and rub the pad of my thumb over the smooth pink head. My fingers grip him, but the thrust of his hips sets the pace for my strokes.
The first golden drop of nectar glistens in the streetlight’s illumination and I lean down, hungry for its sweet tangy flavor. Licking the head, I am treated to a tasty mixture from our earlier sexual escapades. I see his sly grin and know he’s waiting to taste our combined juices. Unable to resist, I kiss him deeply and urgently, sharing our flavors.
Lured by our kiss, I position my wet warmth over his hard cock. Sliding my swollen lips along his shaft, I cover him in our silken nectar. In one purposeful motion, I slide the head into my warmth, then take the entire length deep into my sex. His moan, when he enters, adds fuel to the raging fire within me.
I have never felt more womanly than when I push against him and accept him to the hilt, our thrusts in sync as he plunges deep inside me. With each lunge I grind my clit against the base of his shaft while he massages my ample breasts, firmly rolling my nipples between manly fingers.
Pleasure washes over me as my quickening rhythm matches my building intensity.
