Ty to rgraham666 and pure for their editing.
It is an evening in winter. My rooms are warm and their possessions are as I like them: The candle's light reflecting nothing but my signature. The iridescent quartz egg I have been nervously rolling around in my palm is quite hard, and now quite warm as well. My inner knowing tells me he is near.
The knock is light on the door. He enters without a word, taking me into his arms immediately. He is dressed in a perfectly starched white shirt and faded jeans under a full length charcoal wool coat. He is six feet and two inches tall, with wide shoulders tapering down to narrow hips astride his flat stomach. He has soft, light brown hair, and very still brown eyes. He has to lean over to embrace my petite frame. I lay my cheek against his sternum and wrap my arms around his waist. This is unexpected! I have been encircled; I love the feel of it. He rocks me slightly back and forth, kissing my blond tresses then laying his cheek against them as our senses commune.
As we stand apart he notices the small object in my hand. Taking it, he comments on its warmth and asks me what it is. I tell him that I have been using it to transfer nervous energy from me. He smiles and embraces me again. He whispers "be still" against my now tingling ear. I have known this man for months, but it has been only earlier this evening that we have moved to be together alone.
He sits down at the end of my hi-backed, dark tapestried sofa. He is simply elegant. One would never know that he hadn't sat there a hundred times before. He is a very still pool. It calms me, as I sit beside him, just to look at him with my pale blue eyes. I want to drink him.
Again he wordlessly draws me to him until my side runs along his and my head lies tilted against his shoulder. Our eyes look into each other as our hands explore and our breathing deepens and increases.
"What are you thinking, beautiful?"
"That I will only once kiss you for the first time."
With that we know the time has come. He takes my face in his hands. His eyes do not stray from my plump, parting lips. He moves so slowly! The touch of his tongue is like that of delicate snowflakes upon bare ground. It touches me at the very edge of my sensitivity, then slowly melts over my tongue. His mouth becomes like water, dripping onto me, running over me, swirling around in me, filling me. My mouth is made liquid everywhere he touches. We are becoming intimate in this one orifice. He is making love to my mouth. My only thought is, 'drink, drink this.'
Never have my senses resonated like this. I offer small resistance as he pulls off and sits up. He slips out of his coat as I slide my back up against the pillow at the other end of the couch. I am wearing a thin black spaghetti-strapped cotton T and faded blue cotton shorts rolled over twice at the waist. As I move I notice the ample cleavage the clingy shirt exposes and feel my thong moistening under the small shorts. I feel very relaxed. One of my firm legs leans against the back of the sofa, the other lays off of it, my foot on the floor. I feel the fire he has started in me. I do not move and I cannot wait.
He makes himself comfortable on top of me. We kiss again. If anything it is even more languorous and luxurious than before. He drapes his tongue onto mine like a painter carefully laying a gossamer piece of fabric about the naked hips of his beloved subject. I press my breasts against his chest, wrap my arms around his neck and join with him. The passion of our kissing ascends. The heat of the fire he is stoking in me now radiates throughout my core. His hands move over me. I want his hard cock touching me. I know, with growing amazement, that it will wait.
I drop my head back and groan out loud as he slides off of my mouth to plant luscious wet kisses down the side of my neck and across my collar bone to my throat. He runs his long fingers up the back of my fragile neck as he points his tongue, then he slowly draws it up and out to my jaw. He lifts his head and looks me directly in the eye. I let him see what is inside of me with no hesitation, and surprisingly, it is the simplest thing to do. I sense the past moving on. I bask in the simple presence of the moment. His eyes shine, earthy and strong, the ground I have gone to.
His fingers feel like little torches everywhere they touch my exposed flesh, making me literally swoon. Soon he runs his palms up the covered sides of my ample breasts and circles them again and again over my engorged nipples. He runs his hands up underneath my T to squeeze my breasts together while he breathes gently onto the hot swollen bells, then blows on them to see them swell even more. He is fueling the fire in me. I marvel at his skill.
Oh, but his patience is testing me! I pull my shirt over my head and drop it. Now he can suck on my nipples through the black lace of my bra. Instead, he kisses me again as he plucks my nipples like strings on an instrument, then reaches around and releases my tits from their bonds. He begins the same torturously fine ministrations with his tongue on my now fully exposed breasts. I watch, enraptured, while inside I struggle with my inclination to act, and fight against my inclination to think.
"Let go," I say aloud, not meaning to. He puts a hand on my forehead and as he draws it back into my hair he pulls his mouth off of my left breast.
"let go, yes."
He doesn't know about the painfull memory of the man I called husband. The man that betrayed my love and trust, forcing me to find a new way, rudderless and alone. He doesn't know that he is the first man since that time that I have chosen to grant access to the heavily guarded sanctuary that is who I am inside.
I turn my thoughts away from these things. I push myself up, then begin unbuttoning his shirt. Though I want to, I refuse to move fast. As soon as I am able to reach them though, my tongue takes a greedy turn, encircling his nipples while I suck them, licking them slowly from bottom to top, taking them between my teeth. I am so full of desire for this man! I hear his moans. They make me feel weak and wild at the same time! He releases the cuffs himself and leisurely discards his shirt. I reach for his jeans but feel his hands circle my shoulders and lay me back again.
"Not now little one"
I am almost flat on my back. My need is burning me! "Please...."
He eases off my shorts, dropping them on the floor. I watch his eyes drink me in. I am made still by them. He is such a deep well of desire! He leans over, placing one hand around my thigh against the sofa back and with the other he ever so lightly traces along the waistband of my black cotton thong.
