It's always like this. He's gone for a few days or a week. When he comes back, he's so needy he can hardly wait. His cock leaps free of the encumbrances as soon as the zipper is down and the cloth parted. Hard and forceful, pushing out of the cotton embrace, pressing for her.
She gives a sigh. Long and filling and wanting. Her trembling fingers fold the cloth away and slide over the length even as the sibillance lingers. The stiff rod twitches with anticipation in the open air and the skin tingles with the touch of her breath washing over the head.
Another exaggerated twitch as the humidity of her mouth nears. The sigh only just melted with the atmosphere of the room when her lips encircle the throbbing pole. Her sigh becomes his moan and the currents of air swirl with delights yet unfolded. She won't wait more. Can't. His cock shakes the back of her throat as it hits hard pushing on in, her muscles working frantically.
His hands move to the back of her head and coil in her hair. She moans at the sensation and works harder to swallow and tongue his member before he can think of anything else. She's wanted him the entire time he's been gone. Thought of him constantly. Found herself daydreaming and waking from sleep with liquid ache and need.
How can she ever begin to tell him of her want? Her days apart from him spent aching to have him inside? Surrounding her, holding her, filling her. She hadn't the words to tell him, but she has the means in her hands and between her lips and she devours him.
His moans grow and her sighs and muffled noises meet them in the room. They waft among the eddies and bound from the walls. They fuel her need and her desires. She feels herself ready for him. Ready to take him into her very soul. She thinks of launching herself upon him and impaling herself upon his tree. The very thought brings livid shudders to her and a renewed attack upon the part of him she clings to. She reaches a hand around and grabs his ass, pulling him closer, his cock nearly gagging her.
She pulls, grabbing tight, picturing the way he will pound her. Ram into her wetness. She pushes her head in even as both his hands take her hair and wrap their way around the curls. He pulls her away and she holds on until her lips separate from the smooth skin and even then, she flicks her tongue at his cock, wraps it around the silky head, pokes it at the tender slit.
His hands, however, have other ideas and they pull and tug at her hair until even the tip of her tongue can no longer reach him. Though it continues to try. It frets and flickers as it stretches out to feel more. The frustration is hers and the want and need is also hers and it grows with the distance he pulls her head. The tugging on her hair is less a hindrance than a heightening of sensation and she moans with the blossoming desire.
If she wanted, she could break the hold on her hair and force her mouth over his cock. She could rage and fight until she had the smooth hardness in her throat once more, but she also knew that he would take her back again. He would let her fight and struggle and even win before taking her by the wrists and pinning her solidly to the bed. He would take her then, do whatever he wanted with her. Ah, but he will anyway. He will do what he wants with her, she knows this.
Instead of fighting, she leaned into the digits coiled in her hair, felt the knuckles knead her scalp. She sighed and moaned as his hands moved her head back and forth, his hard cock wavering in front of her eyes, teasing her with its twitching. A pang in her groin told her how much she wanted it inside her.
It moved out of her line of vision and she gets pressed forward, head to the bed, his hands still curled in her hair. Her own hands move up to the mattress to guide her head and he releases her hair and takes her fingers. Twines with them, laces them so their heartbeats throb within the web they make together. A sigh of delight and perfection slips onto the comforter.
He brings her hands back and presses so that her torso is lifted over the edge of the bed. She feels the pressure of his thigh at the cusp of her ass and she gives the slightest wiggle to allow it access to her crack. And it accepts. Pushes up with the slip of movement to the meeting of her legs. The division of her body. She feels the heaviness of muscle and firm command place itself at the entrance to her inner self and she relaxes into it with a heavy gasp.
Her want has made her so very wet that her breath and her noises of lust sound saturated to her own ears. Her hands have been taken from her and locked behind her back. Now he's wrapped them in silk and his hard shaft has pressed up between them. His own hands nimbly dig at her back. They palpate the muscle and shake the bones free of their constraints. Even as she is forced to relinquish and ease, the feel of his rigid tool across her cool palms fuels her needs.
He's pushing it forward and she's grabbing at it the best she's able with her wrists and fingers interlocked. As her concentration shifts from his fingers on her muscles, she recognizes her vocalizations. "Oh" and "Ugh" and "Ahhh". Then his touch moves her away from reality again. His palms sliding up her back, half circle over her shoulders and down her spine. Another circuit. The sounds are her sounds. They might even be her very self as she feels his length shove over the silk, rustle back across, her touch barely in contact.
She wants it. She can feel it. Every inch. It's not silk his member slips across, but her silken nether lips opened wide and glistening with dew. It's her soft mouth. It's the curve between her breasts. "Ooooooooohhhhh." She feels the sound come fromout her throat in a supplication of desire.
