Whispered Passion

She was standing at the kitchen counter washing dishes with a green sponge. He was reading the newspaper, watching her. It was quiet and cozy and evening was beginning to fall. Dinner had been simple but nutritious.

Somewhere, a window was open.

He finished his cooling coffee, set down his cup and folded his newspaper.

She felt him behind her and put down the plate she'd been washing.

He stepped toward her and she felt his legs against hers. He brushed aside the hair that fell across the nape of her neck and kissed her back. He pushed his body against hers and put his left hand on her waist. He knew the shape by heart. It was his favourite shape.

He slid his free hand down her body. Her sweater was light and soft. Lower, the roughness of her jeans; and his fingers feeling each stitch as they maneuvered between her spreading legs. Her breath slowed and she dropped the sponge into the sink. His fingers crawled overtop of her panties and, as he pressed himself against her and against the counter, expanded until his palm was warming the denim that was warming her panties that was warming...

He started to rub.

She moaned.

The coarse material moved obediently under his hand. It rubbed against the skin on her thighs and made the thin black panties rub pleasantly against her pussy. He pulled her even closer, put his head against hers and listened to the air flowing in and out of her body.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

She did.

He started to rub faster and harder. Her breath quivered. She swallowed the saliva that had been running down the sides of her mouth and felt it flow out into her panties. His hand was rubbing wetness into them through her jeans. She put her hand on his and felt the bones of his knuckles. As he pressed himself against her, she swayed her hips.

His mouth moved past her ear and kissed her neck.

She turned her head and licked his cheek.

Holding her against the counter with his body, he unbuttoned and un-zipped her jeans and slid them down to her knees. She let his hands travel her body; then settle on her moist panties. The air was cool and she felt his movements as the touch of wind against her legs. He felt her wetness with his fingertips. Her wetness for him: his wetness. His fingers played on the thin black material as he wrapped his other arm around her just under her breasts and—

She gasped!—

He threw himself backwards across the room.

The force jerked her body and pulled it along with his. For a few seconds, she felt as if they were flying, like she was falling. And he barely kept his balance before—

Thud!

They landed against the wall, his back absorbing the full impact and hers cushioned against his chest. He let out a low gasp and gripped her even more tightly than before. She could feel his excitement and hers was beginning to run down her thigh.

He let his shoulders slide down the wall and moved both their lower bodies forward: 3 degrees, 10 degrees, 15 degrees, 25 degrees. They were reclining. He put his legs between hers and spread both pairs. Sliding one hand under her shirt, he cupped her breast. The other he slipped under her soaking panties and into the hair of her pussy. He rubbed it, he petted it, she moaned.

She was trapped between his hand, now buried inside her panties and rubbing furiously, and his erection, which she could feel through his slacks. He was pressing against her from two directions, the front and the back: his pelvis was pushing her into his hand, which was pushing her onto his cock. She bent her legs and added a third: rubbing up and down against him with her ass.

Together they moved and moaned and when he finally took his hand out of her panties it glistened and dripped with her juices. He tasted one finger, licking it up greedily, and gave the rest to her, which she sucked off his fingers to the last drop.

He spun her 'round and they stood facing each other.

He stepped forward, away from the wall.

She stepped back, knelt down and unbuckled his belt.

She slid it out.

He undid his pants and took them off. She stepped out of hers. Their eyes were hungry. They took off their shirts, then his boxers, then finally peeled away her soaking panties.

"I want you," he said.

And growled as he grabbed her by the waist and spun her 'round again. He spanked her across one ass cheek. Across another. Harder, across the first—she jumped! Across the second—she gasped!—then bent over her body and bit her shoulder until she squealed.

The bite mark burned bright red with saliva.

Pushing her back across the room, they landed against the counter again. He bent his knees and put his cock between her ass cheeks. She squeezed them together, feeling his hardness in between. He wrapped a handful of her hair around his fingers and arched her neck as he began moving between her cheeks. She felt his pubic hair brush against her skin. She reached back and pulled his body to hers.

Thrusting against her, his left hand on her stomach, index finger playing with her bellybutton, his breath getting heavier, the fingers of his right hand holding her hair, his lips against her ear whispering filth and love and desire...

With the pressure in his body building and building, he pulled her away from the counter and they fell together to the floor, his naked body covered by hers, her back on his chest, only sweat between them. His cock was between her legs and he pushed it towards her pussy. She felt it against her wetness and they rubbed against each other, sharing juices and getting off on each others textures and smells and sounds.

When he was ready to cum, he put his hand underneath her leg and applied the finishing touches himself. His cock was covered in her. His thighs were covered in her. Her body kept moving and squirming in pleasure. As orgasm took him away, he growled and moaned and gasped and his cum shot into the air and hung above them before landing on her stomach, her chest, his shoulder.

He let his body drink up the sensations but his hand was already makings its way toward her pussy: the warmth, the wetness, the pleasure. His fingertips flicked across the surface and he watched the reactions on her face. The room smelled of sex, the smells danced with her sounds and he couldn't take his eyes off her lips as he brought her over the edge...

When their bodies had stopped trembling, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling while feeling his chest causing her to gently rise and fall. Smiling, she flipped herself over on top of him: her stomach and breasts against his stomach and chest, his drying juices between them, her juices mixing with his. She took a deep breath. Then kissed him and loved him and, as they felt their heart beating against each other, enjoyed what can only be described as the most wonderful afterglow.