Does passion have a limit?
I contemplated this question as I stood outside of hotel room. It had been a month since I had seen Davis; a month since I had been uncharacteristically carried away in a fuck fest of which I had no understanding. He had coaxed out a woman I hardly recognized in myself when he took me so passionately. I had been demanding, yet demurred. I allowed Davis enough control to lead me to Nirvana, then followed my own urges so that I could crash back to reality like a burning meteor.
After giving and taking so much pleasure, I was now almost hesitant to enter the room for fear that my lover had only been a dream, a figment of my overactive, sex-starved imagination. I was both breathless with anticipation and paralyzed with unrealized fear.
The door opened with a unexpected whoosh. Davis carrying an ice bucket, seemed startled as he saw me standing there, obviously not expecting me to be standing there on the other side of the door just yet.
"Val!" he exclaimed in genuine pleasure when he realized who I was. I was enveloped in a bear hug that was intended to be friendly and platonic. Hugging him back, the intense chemistry I remembered kicked in and relief poured over me when I realized that my hunger for this man had been no dream. Standing there in this platonic embrace only filled me with intensely lustful thoughts.
My hands snaked up to his neck, pulling his head down for a deep kiss that conveyed to him all the desire I burned with.
I ended the kiss reluctantly, hoping to drag out the anticipation. "Hi Davis. God, I missed being in your arms." In answer to my breathless statement, I was held tighter, but this time the friendliness of his touch morphed almost imperceptibly. What had started out as a greeting, changed to a pressing of bodies very familiar with each other and his hands rubbed my back, electrifying my skin.
There was no hiding our bodies' responses to our close proximity. The electricity that had held me spellbound to him at our last encounter was still strongly enticing me. He seemed to be experiencing a similar response because I could feel his hard-on ridged out against my belly as he pressed closer. My nipples responded in kind and poke out impishly through my thin summer dress. The lace bra under it did little to hide the fact they they were already standing at attention, begging for his tongue's attention.
"Wait," Davis said, pushing me away. "I didn't want to do this...I mean I do want it but, I didn't want to maul you the second you got here. I thought we could go out or do something fun, I don't know...um get a drink maybe?.. " The way his voice trailed off, I could tell as Davis was feeling as awkward as I had been just before he had opened the door.
"Does passion have a limit?" his eyes seemed to ask me silently, revealing his own doubts.
We had met a month ago, had experienced a weekend of limitless sensuality and erotic fucking. Could that possibly be the highest limit of erotic pleasure? I really hoped not. My confidence in myself, in my desire, and in our passion returned to me, and I decided to boldly find out the answer to this question— and find out sooner, rather than later.
"Do you really need me to beg for it, Davis?" I asked playfully, pushing him back into the room and closing the door. There was a large bed, loaded with fluffy white pillows and a white duvet covered comforter.
For a brief moment, Davis didn't know how to respond, too stunned by my question. Then breaking out into a big grin, he smiled down at me from his foot high advantage and told me, "Yeah, my sexy Val. I want you to beg me for it."
Dramatically, playfully, seductively, I splayed myself across the bed. My legs were spread, my short dress hiked up suggestively high on my bare thighs, my arms stretched out above my head, my pouting lips trembling as I purred out in my most sex-kitten-like drawl. "Davis, please, please come and fuck me. I've needed your throbbing cock so badly inside my wet pussy." I tried not to giggle from my antics. I failed.
Although Davis' eyes flared up with instant passion and he looked decidedly uncomfortable in his shorts, he shook his head at me. "No, Val. Sorry, I'm not convinced you want me very badly. I need a little evidence before I'll believe you."
"Oh. Umm...evidence?..okay, Davis," I said, adjusting my sexy pose on the bed so that I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. Holding his gaze, I reached down to the bottom of my little dress and in one motion, whipped it over my head. I was left kneeling there in my black lace bra and matching thong. My large, DD tits invitingly overflowed the demi-cups showing off the tan I had been working on. My mature curves were totally on display for his appreciative gaze.
Reaching for Davis' hand, I took his fingertips and ran the lightly over my taught nipples. The lace of the bra abraded the sensitive tips.
"Feel the evidence of my puckered up nipples, Baby? Those tits want your tongue licking them. Go ahead, Davis, I dare you to test my hypothesis."
Pushing me backwards, Davis lay on his side next to me, his fingers continuing to flick the nipple closest to him on his own. "Well let's see," he whispered to me as he leaned down, running his tongue over the tips, through the filmy, stiff fabric of the lace bra. Through the lace I felt his humid breath and hot saliva as his tongue laved my nipple again and again. His lips latched onto the hard pebbly nub, and he began to suck hard at it through the fabric. I moaned in pure delight when his teeth nipped lightly.
