He pulled my t-shirt down my front and leaned over me to kiss the front of my neck skillfully. His hand began to knead my breast. He moved himself closer to me, his leg propped next to me now. He devoured my skin. His left arm, which had been holding my arms so that I could not fight, now wandered under my t-shirt, trailing along my waist, fluttering up to my breasts, touching me through my bra. He began to lift my t-shirt, sliding it up along my skin and lifting my arms to guide it off. My breathing came raggedly as the warm air brushed over me. The silent tears continued. Tears of fear, hate, incomprehension, anger, betrayal, helplessness.
He curled his right arm now over my shoulder and across my chest, moving his soft kisses along the left side of my neck, shoulder, chest. His right leg curled around my waist, pulling him even closer, while his hands kneaded my breasts through my bra. Slowly he inserted his fingers under the lace and cupped my breasts inside the bra. A small betraying gasp escaped me. I could feel him smile against my skin. He leisurely moved to my right, his leg now bent over my front, his chest at my side, his hand making trails over my back, his eyes now able to rape mine explicitly. He moved his lips to mine, playing with my resistance. His hands exploring my naked torso, his lips my soul, I could no longer escape. He carefully picked up my hands, placing them on his bare chest. I pushed him away softly, weakly, until I could no longer resist his assault. I began to move my hands over his chest, to feel the muscles, the small scars, the ridges and curves of his body.
Bit by bit, his hands moved down my body, lingering on the outside of my thighs, my knees, the waistband of my trackpants. My movements matched his, my hands resting on the coarse denim of his jeans. With his silken hand on my chest and his lips at my throat, he carefully shifted his weight, moving his leg from behind me, bringing his body in front of mine, pushing me softly back into the rug. Our legs tangled as I uncrossed mine and he moved his hands purposefully to my waistband. With his eyes on mine, just in case I would still fight, he deftly slid my trackpants down my now straightened legs, letting his hands slide over them, as he did so. Certain that I would not move now, that I was too far gone, he repeated the action with my underpants, kissing my soft skin with his lips as he slid the fabric over my waist, my private centre, my thighs, my knees, my calves, my ankles. He moved back up my body, caressing my curves as he went, resting his head at the lips between my legs. As his tongue flicked over me, I could not repress a moan of longing. He suckled gently and I groaned hungrily. There were no longer any thoughts of escape or of fighting this gentle lover. There was just unbridalled lust, need, passion. As my need became more insistent, as his lips and tongue and fingers explored my most intimate places, I began to move my body beneath him. My hands clutched the rug and his shoulders and head alternately until I could feel the telltale tension building within me. As I began to thrust myself into him he mercilessly moved his focus back up my body to my breasts. Caressing my lips with his, he let his hands wander over my breasts and slide behind my back to undo the clasp. This done he gently slid the straps over my wandering arms. My insistence began to build again, as he ravished my naked body, suckling my nipples while brushing his fingers between my legs, entering me with one finger at a time. He brought me again almost to the point of release before abandoning my need once more. Yearning now, my hands done exploring his bare skin, I unhooked the button on his jeans and hastily pushed down his zipper. He obliged me by removing the jeans himself and he was finally laying against me, naked skin against naked skin.
Our eyes locked in our final embrace, my hands explored this new territory, tracing the curves of his buttox, the powerful build of his hips, until he took my hand to what I was most hesitant to touch. He curled me around his manhood, strong, enormous, seductive.
I stroked, touched, flicked, cupped, could feel him jump and start at each delicious sensation. I could feel the blood coarsing through him, the power build within. His wild growl brought me back to earth, his eyes shining with more than hunger, more than need, more than lust. His eyes met mine as he took my arms in his, pulled them easily above my head on the rug and thrust deeply into me. I screamed as he plunged into me, a scream of pleasure. I could feel myself stretching to accommodate him, bigger than I had ever experienced. I could feel my muscles rippling around him as he moved slowly, pulling himself almost completely out before thrusting hard again. Deeply, gently, slowly, he began to move inside me, writhed with me on the rug. His lips devoured mine almost as completely as his manhood was, hunting for sweet release. As we began to build he thrust faster, shorter, coarsely, assaulting me insistently. Again he slowed, deepened, arched my back to meet him and plunged again. My moans of ecstasy matched his growls as his fingers traced over my naked body, supporting, tantalising, caressing. I locked my legs around his hips as he thrust deeper and I could feel myself build around him again. My fingers curled into his back as I was drawn closer with every thrust. I felt him grow bigger, expanding with the need for release, the pressure building intense and smoldering, before he spilled his seed deliciously into me. I felt it coming, my intensity building as he found my most sensitive spot, and I was tipped over the edge into complete abandon. We writhed together, our sounds of release spreading around us.
We lay together like that for the rest of the night, and repeated the act twice more before morning rose over the pine forest and I was forced to go back to my home. Summer evenings have certainly changed for me now as my silent lover and I hunt to ease our lust.
