I reach around her soft, supple tummy. We're watching an old sci-fi TV show we got out of the library earlier on this great damn spring day. Now lying on her bedroom futon curled up and half-watching some story about a scientist who thinks he can communicate with another world, perhaps the afterlife, but it will take the power of a whole metropolis.-- But just as they're about to do the experiment, the psychic, who the scientist earlier showed to be a fraud, comes in with the same intention in exposing the scientist. I say we were half-watching because we were also subtly half rubbing up against each other, our minds in our own other world.
I kiss the back of her neck, through her flowing hair. She smells beautiful, like only she can smell. My hand slides. Maybe it's the heat of the night coming through the window like a summer spirit, but she pushes into my hand hard like her loveliest parts are gasping for air and my stiff open palm slides down to the front of her panties.
"Do not attempt to adjust your underwear. We are controlling your friction," I say. My hard cock is pushed up against the inside of my pants, against her 80's-looking bright colored athletic shorts with the white stripes, pulsing on the curvy split of her ass. She is heated beneath the stretchy moist cross-hatched fabric of her some-%-polyester panties and I start to just say hello to her friendly crotch. She cranes her neck back to kiss my lips and we roll together for a while like an undulating sea.
The TV is making it's closing statements, saying about how man tampers in God's domain or something like that, I'm not listening, and she turns to reach for the remote and switches it to her CD player with some fitting music.
Now we are into it. Time to open 'er up, as they say with man's other favorite vehicles.
She and I, whatever else we are, are 'built' for this. You can have a relationship with a girl that lasts a week and remember the sex for the rest of your life. Or have a girl that years later you think "what was I thinking?"and still, ho-ly crap, that was some sweet time. As they say, there's no accounting for taste. And that's essentially what "chemistry"... biology, is... Nature's tastes.
The music is throbbing, giving the room a new kind of light.
She turns back around and looks at me like a sinner and a saint. Then looks down at her chest, the button-up dress shirt she can see down from her vantage point. A look like, "oh, did you want this?"
I look into her eyes and a fire flares up in me. She has my attention.
She begins unbuttoning her shirt, each button being pulled away like a fire spreading down her shirt revealing the silky, purple, ample globes beneath.
I pull down the purple bra and begin licking her exposed puffy nipples. She raises her upper body toward me, my hands go behind her back and her chest is like a wealth of girl, bountiful busom? I believe is the term, like a stack of womanly power, she fills my face. She is reaching around to unclasp the bra while I go for her pants. Then while she reclines on the futon, propped up on the large plush pillows, looking as tempting as a wine that can ask you to drink it..., I move to kneeling, with a good view of her sumptuously waiting, as I pull my t-shirt over my head and undo my belt by the side of the futon. "C'mere." She says. Aw, man.
I am above her and her hand is on the back of my head, touching my hair. I kiss her passionately, sucking on her tongue, her neck, kissing her ear. I nibble at her breasts and wet them with my tongue. Play with them. Push them together and nob the nipples with my sensuous fingers. All the while the friction is still there, wherever our bodies can find it. We put our perty bits together as often as we can but a leg or a knee works just as well for friendly leverage.
The philosopher Nietzsche says people secretly hate the human body and thus life because they can no longer 'create beyond themselves.' He says in his writings, people "must go under". That our self really wants to go under. Personally, I think he is talking about going down on people.
I came to the Lord's table. One calf thrown over either shoulder and my hands up close curved up around her perfect fleshy ass. Pretty much my favorite place to be. I gave her wonderment some warming up, though she was well wet by then. Munching rug is one of my favorite activities (unshaved or shaved is fine by me). I love women and I love to please women, and I've studied. Of course it's an art, and like all great arts there are some elements they say can't be taught. But doing a little reading never hurt anybody. I stuck out my moist tongue and lowered it down to just above her asshole, then licked my way all over her stopping just below her clit. I did this a few times to get us working together. The rubbing the inside of her thighs I started moving my tongue in cicles around the lips near her hole, savoring her pussy juices and loving the feel of her labia in my mouth, then, I slowly send my tongue through her walls into the moist cavern of her pussy. In and out for a while, just like a wet thick visitor for her insides. I squeeze her ass and also play with her tits and keep working, and I can tell she's liking it. So I move up to the top of her pussy and start licking around her clit, just ever so softly at first, and her butt tightens with her knees locked outward and I start to lick up and down the whole slit, up and down, while circling when I get to the top and slowly touching the clit with my moist tongue. She moans and I reach to her arms and place them over her breasts, then cup my hands on hers. My hands also rub up her sides which she likes a lot, the part just above her ass and her ass.
I start sucking on her clit because she's moaning for me. "Put your finger inside me," she says. And quickly I stick my right pointer finger in my mouth and get it wet with my spit and then slide it in her and then I'm back on top of her humming skirt-paraphenalia. She is rocking her hips into my face so I take my other hand and start giving her more stimulation around her clit by pressing her lips and sucking on her rocket socket. She is so wet she is dripping and her smell is like a warning that I must stick my dick in something or I will burst. I keep finger fucking her and I want to stick a finger in her ass, but I can't. She won't let me do that. God, and I've tried. I have to convince her tonight to let me stick it in her ass! With an ass like that the Pope would give us his blessing in front of St. Jude and all the choirs of angels: Yes, Sir! Stick that fucking dick in her ass! She is so beautiful when she's hot and she is bucking her hips in my face and now I'm just basically rubbing my nose in her junk and licking and licking for the life of me like I'm drinking the nectar of the Gods with the thirst of a Titan. There is a hot shot gasp like lightning and then she starts the shuddering thunder, convulsing against me, holding my head in her crotch and writhing. She gives a squeaky moan and I feel like I have done the job and now how about another round after some deliberation talks. She lies back on the bed and I think, this just might work.
"You're wonderful," she coos to me as I curl up next to her. "I owe you one."
"Anytime, sweetheart."
"So, whad'ya wanna do now?"
"I was thinking of trying something new."
She looks curious. "Oh yeah?" Sits up. "Like what?"
