Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
She let him into the room, her face flushed. A moment, and she turned away from him to the bed and sat on it. The height of the bed and the height of her heels forced her feet to arch, the toned muscles in her legs to flex taut. He stood in front of a chair opposite the foot of the bed, facing her expectantly.
She slid the front of her short dress up to reveal the boy-cut lace panties clinging snugly to her hips. While it was certainly getting humid down there she did not think she was wet enough to show.
He shifted his hips almost imperceptibly and his hand stroked the front of his jeans gently. The Need began to uncoil within them both. She slid back toward the headboard as he began to loosen the buttons on his shirt. She kicked off her heels in a deft motion and drew her legs up onto the bed, demure and ladylike.
As his jeans slid to the floor she stroked her chest. Her nipples rose, dimpling out the thin satin fabric of her cocktail dress. She let her hand drift across them and felt her heartbeat pick up pace.
These tiny signs of arousal did not go unnoticed, and as he pulled off his underwear his cock fell free, heavy with blood though not yet erect. As he settled into the chair opposite her, the obvious heft of his swelling cock caused a surge of excitement in her, and she drew her knees up, showing him the secret places where she felt her hunger.
She began to brush her other hand across the dark lace, which radiated a damp warmth into her fingers. He wasn’t doing anything now, just watching her intently. For him, there was nothing else in the world but this naked man on a chair, this woman on the bed, and the growing Need rising between them.
She pushed harder, the fabric of the panties forming tightly against the folds of her flesh in graphic detail. Her clitoris gave a surge of energy and she could feel the wetness building. The knuckles at the base of her fingers held high, her fingers splayed just so across the crotch of her panties, she was less surprised than she should have been to find that she had absently pushed the thin strap of her dress down, partially revealing her left breast, and her hand had slid beneath the satiny fabric and was stroking the other.
He watched her now, stroking his cock gently. It had raised now and he looked relaxed, confident and hungry. He did not take his eyes off of her as his fingertips brushed his dick, his thighs, his balls. The head became shiny as he smeared what appeared at the tip, the mark of true arousal.
This caused a surge of passion in her and she reveled in the desire that was taking hold. Her fingertips slid up the front of the panties to the top, and over, and inside. He could see her fingers through the distended lace and his cock jumped involuntarily. His immediate and obvious response inflamed her and she could feel her juices flowing from seeing it. He was beginning to pump it in earnest now, his cock slick with its own juices. Her fingers slid up and down her sopping slit, just on either side of her clit, which had fully emerged, thriving on the motion so close to it. She watched him stroking, working his thumb over the head deftly, and marveled at his apparently complete comfort with sharing such a vulnerable casino şirketleri moment.
She marveled at his ability to restrain himself from vaulting onto the bed and ravishing her. He had written breathtakingly explicit emails about what he wanted to do to her personally; wanting to take that famously prominent clit into his mouth, to drink her juices like sacred wine from a holy chalice, to feel her pussy close around his cock, her ankles pushing him deeper in, to feel her breasts press against his chest as he pulled her close and chewed on her neck. He spoke of his obsession with the idea of taking her from behind, seeing her heavy breasts swing violently as he pounded against her, taking huge handfuls of her hair and pulling her back onto him.
Those missives could be astonishingly crude, describing how he wanted her to ride him violently until they were both coming, his jizz pumping deep into her, and then she would dismount him with a wet pop, flip around and lower herself onto his face so that he could take her in his mouth with his own cum dripping onto his face, to inhale the filthy scents of his sperm, her juices, even the heady odor of her ass; that the smell and ministrations from her hands and mouth would revive his slick cock so that he could fill her again with his seed.
He described all of the things that he fantasized about when pulling himself off, and how it would feel, smell, taste and sound. He described shocking scenarios, fucking her in public, in groups, even sharing her with other men and women, how much he would love to watch another man’s cock press deep into her, or watch her kissing another woman, their hands roaming over one another’s most sensitive places, exploring those places that men so often lack the imagination to find. He described how he thought it would feel to fuck her up against the stall door of a public bathroom, or bent over a kitchen table, even went into detail about her bouncing on his cock as they rode a horse while locked in intimate embrace.
He described evenings in which the food and the sex were intertwined, of hours locked in an inverted embrace, mouths clamped over one another in passionate bliss. He talked about how he thought it might feel to slide his cock between her full breasts, or to move the crotch of her panties aside and plunge into her. He described how he imagined her mouth might feel on the head of his cock, and detailed how her fingernails would feel when dragged gently across his balls. He even told her that he sometimes slipped a finger into his own ass, imagining it were hers, just at his moment of crisis.
All of these descriptions came with details he had observed about her body, her sexuality, her quirks and body language. It was clear that he wanted to know as much as he could about her body to make his fantasies about her come alive. He asked detailed questions about her libido, her response, her Need. She could not believe he could spent this much time thinking about her body, her sex and his fantasies and not jump off the chair and onto the bed and ravish her completely. His restraint seemed superhuman.
And yet the parameters of these curious encounters were as clear as they were unspoken. He spoke often of how he loved casino firmaları his Need, how he nurtured it and inflamed his and how he loved watching it take hold of him. For him the Want was almost a religious experience, literally ecstatic, as the Self was ousted by the force of his desire, and his body became an instrument of Need.
This was how she came to be in this room with him, every few weeks. A room she chose for the soft north light coming through the gauzy curtains, plenty of pillows to sit back on and the all-important chair opposite the bed. She had photographed herself there before, the camera on self-timer on the chair as she succumbed to her own Need. She loved those photos, they showed her being proudly private, her moments of abandon, of being seized by her feminine passions.
And they looked good, too, and not just because of that wonderful light. She found she liked the photos of herself in the throes of desire more than she liked ordinary photos of herself. They seemed more honest somehow, and showed her as the woman she is, not who she makes herself up to be, what she presents to the world. She liked how the muscles of her legs appeared pronounced in their tensions, how he feet looked arched with desire. Her hands always looked feminine and pretty as they stroked her so intimately. She loved the way her tights or a shadow would play across her skin, emphasizing the curves that defined her body as that of a woman’s. Through these photos she came to understand who she was as a woman.
After discovering the interval recording feature on her camera, she posted a sequence of eight or nine photos on a photo-sharing site, and this is how she found her man. The man sitting across from her now with this huge cock in one hand, his balls in the other, never taking his eyes off of her. His attention was aphrodisiac, she felt drunk in it, and her body responded fiercely and wetly to it. Thinking of all this, she had slid her other hand into her panties and was working herself furiously. She looked down for a moment to admire how the lace accentuated her curves, and her play, and he said again, more gutturally:
She knew what he wanted but knew better than to give it to him, at least not immediately. She allowed her fingers to escape from the sides of the crotch of her panties. She changed her rhythm and her motion so that the gusset would move with her hands, occasionally revealing a puffy lip, a trim tuft of hair, a glimpse of wet folds of pink flesh. His cock jumped again at this, another bead appearing at its tip, and he gasped. He was pumping furiously now, and reeling in the chair. She knew he couldn’t stand now if he tried, and seeing him literally drunk with passion brought her close to coming. Her clitoris was huge now; before she had brought the other hand down it had been rubbing against the inside of her panties even with her fingers on either side. She felt it under her palm as she strained to push her fingers deep into herself. Her body began to jerk with her first climax.
By now he was clearly in a kind of trance, and she removed her panties violently, irritated at the obstruction. She had seen her own pictures of this moment; the camera had shared what he was seeing now. güvenilir casino She knew he could see the gleam of wet pink flesh, the red engorged lips and clitoris, the dewy hairs.
She sat up now, on her knees, one hand sliding between her thighs, the other back on her breasts. She looked at his cock now and recognized in her that the Need was taking over. Her mundane life was no longer in her mind, there were no day-to-day distractions, even her personality was becoming a tiny dot. She was now a plaything of her own Need.
She wanted that cock, to feel it press against her clit, then slide down that slick channel and then deep inside her. She hadn’t felt a cock inside for some time, knew it would be tight, but also knew that it would be easy. She was slick — dripping even — and her musculature wanted to coil itself in readiness to press against his hips, to impale herself on his member, to feel his fur on her clit, his belly against hers, his balls jammed up against her. She drank this desire as he’d taught her, reveling in the delicious power of Need. She marveled at its force, its ability to replace her personality completely with the raw power of her own feminine sexuality. She loved yielding to it, the act of relinquishing control of her body to something primal. She understood now the power that the submissives described in the bondage magazines she sometimes indulged in. It was a breathtaking experience, submitting to the mighty will of her cunt.
She gazed at the object of desire, moving down the bed to get closer. She worked herself with a slow deliberation as she watched his balls pull up tight against his cock. He gasped for a moment, and released it. The cock spasmed over and over as if it were spurting, but only a little came out, and his hands moved down, one finger pressing just behind his balls and the other stroking the sack. His eyes were wide now, transfixed on her fingers. She separated her knees a little more, and pulled the lips on either side of her clit up and out and a deliciously vulgar display. With her other hand she released the nipple she had been tormenting and started working the clit directly, furiously, watching the small amount of his cum dribble down the side of the purple head. This brought her close, so close, and she could no longer stand to hold off.
She lurched on the bed, a voice that was not hers yelping from her throat. He grabbed his cock and, with a few short pulls, began to jet his jism in violent arcs in her general direction. She felt it hit her dress, and then her thigh, and that was enough to sustain her orgasm. As he gasped and flopped in the chair she fell over, frigging herself furiously, trying to keep the climax (or series of climaxes, she couldn’t tell) going for as long as she could. She was dimly aware that the neighbors could hear her but she did not care at all. She writhed on the bed, arching her back in one final convulsion, then flopped back, exhausted.
She was sore all over. The Need coiled back up inside her and her normal identity crept back in, peering around to see if it was safe yet. He looked dizzily at her, watching her pant, watching the moment when she returned to normal, marveling at the way her body felt, tingling and relaxed, and at peace.
For a moment they grinned like teenagers, and got up to reassemble themselves. They washed up, and left separately, each wondering when the Need would overcome their self-control and break the rules of these odd little encounters.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32