One Night

Author's note: while not an account of a single night, this is based on true events with one special woman. All participants are over 18.

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He kissed her gently, barely touching her lips. He had one arm around her waist while the other hand caressed her cheek. He moved slowly, deliberately. His fingers moved past her ear to the nape of her neck. He spread his fingers slightly, and moved to her hair, pushed his way through the thick blonde strands. He loved her hair. The A-line cut she now wore was beautiful. It had been longer, much longer. Nearly two feet of ponytail had been cut. He missed it, but the new look fantastic. She was sexy before but now she was downright hot. Yes, she had a few extra pounds around the middle but it only added to her beauty.

He dropped his hand to her shoulder, pulling her closer. His lips pressed tighter to hers. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in. The tip of her tongue touched his lips. He gently sucked it in, teasing it with his, hinting of things to come. His hands were moving again. One dropped down to her hip and pulled her in. She could feel the hardness starting to build in him. It would have to wait. He would please her first. The other slid across her shoulder, past her neck and down to her chest. Such an overlooked spot, his fingers lightly trailed across her chest, a wonderful light tickle. She shivered and kissed him harder. Tongues feverishly fought to show that each had more passion than the other.

His hand moved sideways, feeling the weight of her full breast. His thumb sought her nipple. He knew where to find it. Still high on her breast, a hard point in the center of a brown areole made even darker by her white skin. Rapidly approaching 40, her breasts sat proud and high. Usually framed in extraordinary collection of bras, they didn't need much support.

He moved his hand from her hip, sliding under her shirt to stop at the small of her back just above her shorts. He paused to rub the sore muscles in her back. She worked hard just trying to make ends meet. That is one of the things he loved about her. She didn't expect a man to take care of her. She was fiercely independent but still allowed him to be part of her life. She was a rare gift and he would do nothing to jeopardize that.

His hand moved farther up to the clasp of her bra. With well trained and practiced fingers he had it open. The other hand felt the weight of her now unrestrained breast, softer and more supple. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger and felt it respond to his touch. She pulled away from him lips only to bite hers. The sensations of his touch were taking over. He grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted. Her arms instinctively rose to allow it's removal. Practiced fingers caught her bra and both were removed together. The sudden chill from the air instantly hardened both nipples. He stepped back to remove his shirt and took in her beauty, the shoulder length blonde hair, the well formed sensuous lips, the hazel eyes with always perfect make-up. The world will say there are more beautiful women but he will always disagree.

She reached for him and pulled his face toward hers. Again their lips met and tongues danced. Soft and gentle were replaced with wanton passion. He laid her on the bed, pulling hard on one nipple while biting the other. Her head tossed side to side with the pleasurable pain. He could never really hurt her. Just enough pain to get her juices flowing. He reached for the button on her denim shorts and quickly dispatched with it. The zipper soon followed. She lifted her ass and he pulled both her shorts and thong over her hips and down her shapely legs. Her shaved pussy was now in view and became the focus of his attention. Drops of moisture have already formed on her lips. He moved up her body, fingers tailing behind along the inside of her calf, her knee, her thigh. He kissed her at the exact moment he touched her most intimate spot. She bit hard on his bottom lip. He didn't care. It had been left swollen before and would again tonight. He bore the marks of passion with pride. His actions cause them and he loves her for it.

His fingers parted her inner lips on the hunt for moisture. They would not be disapointed. He would never dream of touching her clit with dry fingers. His damaged left hand was a secret weapon only a few lucky women had experienced. The bent and twisted fingers could simultaneously touch places that most men could not. Slowly his fingers entered her wet canal and then he started. Working as two small vibrators, one finger pressed against her pelvic bone, the other against the sides of her walls. She bit down on his shoulder drawing a few drops of blood. He took the pain. There would be a bruise tomorrow. He didn't care. He withdrew his fingers, now slick with her nectar and slid them along her folds one touching each side of her clit. Her hips rose to meet his touch. Her well manicured nails digging into him. One hand was behind his ear, nails in his scalp. The other was clawing at his back leaving long scratches across his ribs.

He rolled the hard bud of her clit between his thumb and finger. Her hips bucked of their own accord. Again her teeth found flesh. Her thighs clamped down on his hand but he would not relent. Her nails dug into his back, teeth buried in the flesh above his collar bone. Like a mantis killing her mate, she attacked as she came. Only, she let him live. She would want this again.

Finally she released her grip and collapsed on her back. He teased the center of her chest with one hand while the other stroked her hair. Softly he kissed her cheek. Her body shivered as an aftershock of her orgasm shook her body. She was satisfied yet she wanted more. She needed more. She hopes he gives more. Yes, there would be more.

He first kissed her neck, then down to her chest. Gentle kisses fell on each nipple before he moved lower. He turned as he moved down her belly. Her hand on his head encouraged him to keep moving downward. He kissed her inner thighs, worked his way ever closer to her center. She moved frantically, longing for more contact. His tongue entered her, spreading her folds. He sucked on her lips, pulled them up away from her body. She reached for him and gently stroked his cock. Only then did he reach full hardness. He focus was only on her. His tongue flicked her clit and again she started to flow. This time it would not be just a little moisture. He was doing what he loved, and he knew how to please her.

He loved going down on her. Her smell, her taste, her sensitivity drove him to satisfy her. While the assault on her clit continued, he again inserted two fingers into her. Two fingers searched, teased, and probed all to give her pleasure. Her attention to him had stopped, a sure sign that she was close. He doubled down on his efforts. He was focused only on her clit. Yes, his fingers were still in her, but he didn't even know if he was moving them. Then it happened. She filled with that sweet nectar and he pulled his fingers. Her juices sprayed across the bed, not once, not twice, but four times. He tried to catch it in his mouth but had limited success. The sheets are soaked. Some had even landed over a foot away.

He stopped. She was ultra sensitive and he knew it. He turned around and stroked her face. She snuggled tightly against him, spent. He had given her great pleasure but has not had a release of his own. He found her so sexy and so beautiful that he would not force the issue. Maybe in an hour, or in the morning, or tomorrow night he would receive his reward. For now he let her sleep, happy with what he had done for her.