An English Gentleman

Your fingers pull on the loops laced through the silver eyes. They pull the satiny cords tighter until the seam of the black brocade comes together. The material is thick and unforgiving, allowing short, shallow breaths. Patiently, you tie the laces and double knot them. The cups of the corset are too small for my breasts and they heave over the scrolled edge of lace. Your hands reach around to the front of my ribs and pull me up against your chest. Peeking over my shoulder, you slightly squeeze and my nipples spring from the boning at the top. You sit down on the couch behind me and spin me with your hands. Standing between your legs, I run my fingers through your wheat colored hair. It is soft and wispy and flutters as it lays back on your head.

I lean down to kiss your upturned face, tracing the pink line with my tongue. I study your face as you keep your eyes closed, shuttering the windows of your soul. The skin under the tips of my fingers is smooth and very warm. Creases mar your brow, giving away your age despite your boyish features. Your eyebrows are fine and straight but shades lighter than your hair. Perspiration forms above your lip making the black stubble shiny. The dark color of your facial hair is incongruous with the rest of your coloring, like the bad guy in a cartoon. I palm the sides of your cheeks and heat radiates through my hands. I have never felt anyone as hot as you. It soothes me and excites me at the same time.

My thumbs run across your shoulders along the taut muscles sloping to your upper body. Freckles dot your back and upper arms. You are a true hedonist and welcome my touch, regardless of location or firmness. I want to explore every inch of your body. Linger over every texture and nuance. Your hands never stop molding me, kneading me. They curl behind my thighs and pull me closer until your chin is buried between my breasts. You are very barrel-chested and feel solid against my thighs. I want to revel in your body and soak up your heat.

Your chest is better, wider and firmer, than it looks in a shirt. I roll my fingers over the nubs of your nipples, tugging on the ring of your right one. It doesn't smoothly fit your persona. You represent deep, primal pleasure, not pain. I reach down between your legs and run my palm down the underside of your penis. The skin is incredibly smooth and soft. You are uncut. This is a novelty to me. The extra skin makes a fluid, sensual rhythm as I pull my fist up and down your cock. It doesn't stop short with friction like other men's penises. I pull forward testing how far it will go. I imagine your cock crammed into me, the skin roiling inside of my pussy. My body starts to bear down looking for relief. Increasing the speed and pressure of my hand, I watch your face as you draw in a breath. I want to pull the gusset of my panties over and just shove my body onto your cock. I want to ride you until I'm sweating and pulled so tight I will snap.

Pushing down on my shoulders, I kneel between your legs and face your cock. Your fingers constantly, gently run through my dark hair. You coax my head forward until the curve of your penis skims the very edge of my lips. I drag my bottom lip up the length and it tugs the skin lightly. You pick up the length of my hair and twist it so it stays around your knuckles. I follow the same path back down your body and then go back up using my tongue. You are very quiet as you watch me circle the head with my lips. I want to hear your voice. I like to hear the cadence of your accent, reminding me of a time long ago. Wrapping my lips around you, I push down until the head runs along the roof of my mouth. I make slow sweeps until the muscles of my jaw can accomodate your girth.

I want to swallow you whole and take all of you inside me. I taste the musk of your body and the trace of perspiration between your legs. Pulling off of your body, I want to explore the soft crevices and dark creases. Rubbing the apples of my cheeks against your scrotum, the skin is tacky and skips across my cheekbone. It feels like the softest, warmest petal. I push my nose forward and your testes divide and press against my face. You seem hesitant at my exploration and sit there motionless, your breathing controlled. Pulling your cock down to my lips again, I stroke your skin back with my left and anchor it to the base. I begin in earnest now. I want you deep in my throat, lodged to the back of my tongue. I draw down hard so that the skin threatens to escape from my grip. The suction so intense and abrupt that you gasp at the change in sensation. I point my tongue and stroke your tight frenulum. A low growl comes from your throat. I don't even think that you know you are making the sound. Your eyes are squeezed tight and your body is unconsciously starting to swing your hips in rhythm with my mouth, trying to push your cock farther down my throat. I have my eyes open the entire time watching your pleasure mount until it is frenetic.

This is how I like you. Uncontrolled, unmeasured, unrehearsed. Your fingernails scrub the arm of the couch and your head is thrown back. You pull air through your bottom teeth as if in pain. I keep up a fierce, deep pace, trying to dive closer to your groin with every stroke. The muscles of your thighs are rock hard and your feet are arched onto the balls. I wrap my arms around the backs of your thighs and pull your legs slightly apart. I trap them with my arms, capturing you so you can't escape my torment. Your back is arched and your breathing is erratic and labored. Fluid escapes the tip of your penis and makes my mouth run with its salt, lubricating my throat until slippery. Mindlessly, I am drooling all over your body now, unerringly focused on not letting you dislodge me. Your body quivers with tension as you admit you are about to cum. I feel a tremor rustle through the shaft of your cock.