What I Love

I love being on my hands and knees in front of a man. I love lowering my head and lifting my ass up in the air, offering myself to him. I love how wanton it makes me feel. I love the feeling of exposure that I have as I spread my legs, knowing he can see how wet my pussy is and how much I want his cock. How much I need his cock. I love the feeling of anticipation, the feeling of not knowing, of my pleasure being at his whim. I love the feel of that swollen silky smooth head on my skin, on my ass, the sticky sweet trail left by the precum as he drags it across me, marking me, branding me. I love how it feels as he teases my asshole and my pussy with it, pressing gently at first one, then the other, then back to the first again. Tantalizing. Denying. Keeping me guessing. I love knowing he can see me grow wetter with each passing minute as he does this.

I love closing my eyes as he touches me. I love the way it accentuates every other sense that I possess. The scent of him, strong and masculine. The scent of me, sharp and musky. Urgent. The sound of my own breathing. Soft. Quick. Heavy. His breath, deeper and powerful. I love to hear it in my ears and feel it on my skin at the same time. I love the way my skin tingles when it happens, when I feel his breath skate across it, followed by his fingers. I love the way his touch is magnified when I have my eyes closed. The calloused tips of his fingers, dancing intricate patterns on my skin, slow and seductive. I love how his touch trails fire across my skin. I love how his hands feel on me. Strong hands. Hands that can haul hay tirelessly, or pound fence posts into the ground. I love how they touch me. Softly, gently. Satin over steel.

I love the moment of penetration. I love the feeling when he finally slides deep into me, stretching me and filling me with one long smooth thrust of his hips. I love keeping my eyes closed. I love how all of my other senses seem to explode in a kaleidoscope of sensation right at that moment. I love feeling the sudden sharp shock of being filled. I love hearing his first brutal explosive grunt of pleasure. I love feeling the anticipated, but always surprising roughness of his thighs against the back of my legs. I love the way his fingers grip my hips tightly right at that moment, sinking into my flesh, anchoring me to the ground, anchoring me to him. I love feeling the strength in those fingers, feeling the need in his grip. I love the way he pauses, buried in me as deep as he can be, and I love being able to feel the pulse in his cock. I love that moment, where I can feel its heat inside me.

I love the way he fucks me, driving his hips back and forth. I love the way he makes my body respond, the way it presses back against him of its own volition, desperate for more of him, more cock, more fucking. I love the way the wet sounds become part of our pleasure, the guttural groans, and breathy moans. I love the way I can feel every single inch of him inside me. I love the way my pussy is so hypersensitive when my eyes are closed that I can almost feel every ridge and vein of his cock stroking in and out of me. I love to make the noises that he likes to hear. To tell him how good it feels. To tell him to fuck me harder, deeper, faster. To make me cum. To make me scream his name.

I love the way I can feel his thighs tense up behind me when he's right on the edge. I love the way he grips my hips even harder, pulling me back onto him, slamming himself into me one last time and holding himself there. I love the way I can make him moan when I tighten around him, hoarse masculine sounds. Flexing my muscles. Feeling myself clench. Velvet smooth, hot and wet. I love the feeling of his cock swelling inside me. I love that first initial spurt as he cums and then the heat and the wetness inside me, setting off my own orgasm. I love the feel of his name on my lips, the taste of it in my mouth, as I cum. I love pressing myself back towards him as we both cum, muscles locked and straining. Almost like two bodies trying to become one. I love hearing him draw in those deep, shuddering ragged breaths afterwards. His hands on my hips, but now it's for support. I love feeling his weight on me.

I love lying there afterwards on my side with him close behind me. Feeling the slick sweat between us. I love tracing my fingers over the arms that he wraps around me. I love feeling him inside me still, my body not wanting to let go of his cock. I love the feel of his entire body next to mine. Curve to curve. Contour to contour. Molded. A perfect fit. I love to hear his breathing return to normal, and I love how I know that he's smiling, even though I can't see him. I love the way he lifts his hand and strokes my hair away from my face before kissing me. His lips on my cheek. Another burning imprint. And I love the way his breath feels on my skin as he moves his mouth back to murmur in my ear. And I love the way his voice breaks when he whispers, "I love you."