Sarah stands at the door to his shop watching him. She doesn't want to interrupt and she doesn't want to tell him what's on her mind; but with all her heart she wants his attention and she'd like him to telepathically know what she's feeling. She's so wet, her liquid could possibly seep from her crotch and she feels the familiar ache deep inside her pelvis that yearns to be stroked. She eases inside the workshop and stands beside the hood of the car where his head is buried. She watches his hand holding the side of the car, steading his torso, so he can work inside its bowels without losing balance. His hand is strong and beautiful and the most perfect man hands she's ever seen. Her breathing is shallow and she wants him so very badly.
Paul knows she's there because he can feel her beside him. Sarah feels unlike any other woman and he knows when she's near and when she's far away. He stands, faces her, and looks into her face. She slightly smiles at him with her lips, but that's not what he notices. He sees the storm in her eyes and is able to guess her state. He feels his member swell with the realization that she's come to him, only him, in this condition. Neither of them speak, they just look into each other's eyes, feeling each other, smelling each other, and lusting.
She beckons him with her eyes, then quickly, without warning, the beckon changes to longing. He sees it. Her eyes draw him inside her deeply, to her core. She can't stand it β the waiting. He's making her wait. He stands before her soaking in the sensation of her need and after what seems like an eternity, he raspily whispers, "What do you want?"
All she can muster to whisper back is, "Paul."
They continue to stand, looking into each other's eyes, feeling each other, and the earth stops rotating, the breeze stops blowing, birds stop singing, and space becomes vacuous. Both of them are finding it difficult to circulate oxygen and the heaving of their chests proves this.
"Tell me what you want." He says to her in a commanding way.
"Oh Paul," she whispers, closing her eyes tightly as if she's unable to stand seeing any longer.
"Come to me," he growls as he wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her to him tightly. Her body is at the mercy of his strength and she collapses into him after finally, what seems like an eternity, he attends to her. His lips devour hers and he thrusts his tongue into her mouth and she sucks.
She feels his hard penis against her thigh and this elicits a little bubble of delight that expands inside her pelvis and works its way upward to her mind. He's drinking her in like manna and she wants him totally; she wants him to consume her, to ravage her, to claim her mind, body, and soul.
With one mighty swoop, he whisks her in his arms and takes her into the house. As he walks toward the bedroom, he whispers, "You're mine."
Clinging to his neck, Sarah whispers back, "Yes."
He places her on the bed and looks deeply into her face and growls almost with an animalistic nature, "You are mine!" His eyes are dark and stormy and reminiscent of something primal, something that hasn't evolved very far, something that's at the core of human instinct.
She can't wait. Her need is so strong that her pelvis is innately writhing on the bed. Her yearning eyes are watching every move he makes, longing for what is to soon come.
He stands, towering above her, and with two mighty whisks, removes his clothes allowing his aching penis to expand its full size without the pesky constriction of pants. She reaches for his penis and he takes a step back and growls, "Don't move." He lifts a solitary finger in authority and asks, "Are you going to move?"
She shakes her head no and grinds her pelvis into the bed, savoring the agony of arousal. She watches him go into the bathroom and hears him wash the grime off his hands. He returns wearing the faint smell of soap and stands beside her watching her writhe on the bed. His heart swells with love for this woman β his woman; who lusts for him and comes to him full of desire. "Tell me what you want."
"Paul, please," she whispers. Her body is so taught with desire, she can hardly talk but she manages to pinch out, "Don't tease. I can't wait any more." And truly, she can't. She is in such a state of arousal that he doesn't have to work toward making her body ready to accept him. She is ready and has been more than ready for quite some time.
He positions himself between her legs, scrunches her knees towards her abdomen, then parts her knees giving full access to her crotch. Only then does he realize her state. She is soaking wet and her delicate pink skin is glistening with fluid.
His eyes dilate and he situates himself above her. Then, using his hand, he guides the head of his penis to her crotch and rubs a time or two feeling for her entrance.
The anticipation is about to push Sarah over the edge and she stares at him with primal desire aching for what is about to happen. Then, she feels it. The soft head of his penis parts her labia and with one steady, firm movement he pushes himself into her swollen vagina. His penis expands her internal aching tissue and she groans as he possesses her with his manhood. She wraps her legs around him and holds him tightly. Ever so slowly, he begins moving and she's overtaken with sensation. Her pelvis rocks in rhythm with his movements as he devowers her mouth with erotic kisses. He takes her up with him, to an unseen place, where two lovers go when their heads are dizzy with lust and their hearts are bursting with love. The ethereal place that's detached from reality and all that exists is sensation; wonderful, agonizing, sexual sensation that swirls higher and higher.
Her legs have clamped his hips so tightly that he doesn't feel he's moving very much. She is doing most of the work because he can feel her gripping his penis with her vaginal muscles. She grips then releases, grips then releases, then she tears her lips from his kisses and buries her face into his neck. With all her might, she holds onto him as if melding her body into his. He hears her sighs turn into what sounds like expressions of agony, then her vaginal muscles grip hard and deep. A primal groan rips from her throat while her body stiffens in an all-encompassing contraction of ecstasy.