My mind is racing, and I can't make it stop.
It's the way your hips thrust into mine as I writhe on your bed, stripped of everything but my simple cotton panties -- which are light enough in color that my ever-growing wetness has already rendered them nearly see-through...
And, it's the confident-yet-curious way your hands glide along my flushed skin, drinking in every supple, exposed inch of my body, as though knowing my curves were your driving mission in life...
And it's your tongue, of course -- a dream against my own, as you kiss me deeply, passionately.
All of this swirls around the outskirts of my fevered mind as my moans reverberate in your open mouth. Yet one detail bursts past the rest, effectively drawing my focus through the din: my all-consuming desire to cum. Indeed, every thrilling note still feels like background noise compared to my need for just one orgasm, after a near hour of your delicious, relentless torment.
Only you're not done with me yet.
~
It's not as if you didn't warn me -- in fact, when we first met earlier on in that dark, sexy bar, you vowed to me over our drinks that you'd have me begging, even whining for release before the night was through. In the corner of my fevered mind, I can remember how my heart pounded the moment you tossed all conversational pretense aside and moved in close to whisper more erotic promises in my very open ear - I remember how immediately ready I was to follow you into your home, into the fantasy you were constructing for us in your wonderfully wicked mind.
I then recall, with a bit more clarity, the passion-filled ride back - how you pulled me close as soon as we were both seated, and didn't let me go until we'd arrived at our destination. The way your hands groped and grabbed me all the while, with equal parts tenderness and eagerness. The way my excitement began to spike, and my body began to open up, in response to and happiness over your desire for me -- not to mention, your obvious knowledge of how to touch me in all the right ways...
Once settled inside your place, you pulled me close and pressed your lips to mine once more, as your hands began exploring my curves anew. I responded eagerly, moving to rid you of your clothing without breaking away...
But then -- you stopped me. You sweetly assured me of how eager you were to show yourself to me, to feel my hands along your skin... to put my pouty mouth to work on you. But foreplay, for you, involves pushing your partner to their limits -- to make all of those tipsy promises come true. Without explaining further, you asked if I was game. For a moment, the question hung in the air between us -- and then, at last, I offered a breathy, needful "please" in response. Not only willing to follow you into whatever adventure you had in mind, but frankly needing to see where the night would take us, if I only just took your hand.
You guided me to your bedroom at my acquiescence, but stopped shy of laying us down. Your eyes burning into mine, you began to remove my outfit one article at a time. My jacket... my blouse... my sandals... my skirt... my bra... gently, almost sweetly asking me about my comfort with each item you took off. It was quiet, patient, careful work, and by the time I was nearly naked, then laid out before you, I was trembling -- feeling so open, so ready.