By Betty After Dark © 2008
Today, I am wearing my skinny jeans. The ones that fit snug against my body, with a little stretch to allow movement. When I cross my legs I can feel the slight swelling still there between my legs. The memory still holding even as the stubble grows, poking through the fine sheer fabric of my panties.
I had shaved fresh for you. For me. Knowing the heightened sensitivity the exposed, smooth skin brought. From those times I touched myself. The thought of being touched by you, there, sent chills through me in the shower. Getting ready for you, I indulged myself. With my own fingers, imagining yours where mine touched.
That night, you had started it. Asked for it. I was tugging on the ties on either side of my bikini bottom. You asked me why. I didn't say, but I was nervous before you.
"I know how we can kill some time" you said.
My first exhale as I tilted my mouth towards yours was audible. A sigh of relief. A release.
First, my fingers danced lightly on you.
"How do you do that?" you asked. Touch you without touching you. Only the tips of my fingers brushing the almost undetectable hair on your skin. Soft as the legs of a Luna Moth crawling to safety. Waiting for her wings to dry, and harden.
It's how I always touched. Dream-inducing, but in the right places. Titillating. It quickens your breath, and makes you move to me. Asking me with your body to touch you there. "Here?" Your moans say "yes."
Then you used yours. Pushed them inside me. One, Two. The first time you pulled them out quickly. I gasped for air, for pleasure, and you raised them to my mouth. To suck the taste of my own self from their tips.
You pulled at my hair. I whispered, "Eat me. Please." Wanting your breath on my pussy. Your tongue flicking and circling my clit. Again, you plunged your fingers inside me. One, two, maybe three. I could feel the knuckles. The tips pushing and pressing hard against that spot. The one that makes me shudder.
I pressed your head hard against my pussy. Almost smothering you. So close to the edge. You kept taking me there, and then backing away. Tensile. I squirmed and asked you to not stop. I was there. On the verge. "I am coming." I squealed. Unable to contain my voice. Primal noises echoing off the hotel walls. The glass door. Filling the room.
My body jerked up. The spasms uncontrollable. You moved from me. Spent yourself, I clenched. Tightened the walls deep inside me. Holding the orgasm in. Bearing down on it. Forcing it up again. The spasms continuing even as I rolled on top of you to take your cock into my mouth. You brushed my hair away, straining in the dark to see. I rolled my tongue up around the shaft. Pulling my cheeks tightly around it. Sliding it in and out of my mouth.
I wanted to make you come right then and there. There in my mouth. Conflicted because I didn't want there to be an end. Not yet. I knew if I pushed up on you, allowed to you slide slowly inside me, I could prolong it. I was lost in it. The fucking. On top of you. Pushing you hard and deep inside me. I made myself come again. You made me come again. Pushing my hips down onto your body.
Then you flipped me. On my back. Crawling on top of me. Hovering over me, you pushed my arms above my head. I imagined you had tied me up. You fumbled. We giggled then you pushed inside me again. Both of us breathing hard. Guttural exhales escalating in volume. I pulled my legs to my chest. I wanted you deeper inside me. In the mirror, I watched you. Your back arching. Pushing through me.
A light smack on my ass and you told me to turn over. Quickly, to thrust into me from behind. When you exploded, I felt it. The throbbing release. The collapse of fulfilled desire.
There was an aggression in how you fucked me. I felt commanded by you. Wanting to give power over to you. Wanting to take it further.
Only after mating, does the female Luna Moth take flight.
Betty After Dark is a writer who now lives in Montana.