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I sit in my chair, wearing only my briefs. You stand in front of me, your back facing me, your arms to your sides. I slide my hands over your shirt. You aren’t wearing a bra, like you said you wouldn’t. As my hands move up, I notice you tense up. Why? Are you nervous? Anxious? You can’t be anymore nervous than I am. Inside my briefs, my cock involuntarily jerks, beckoning to be released from its captive shell. I won’t let it yet. Right now I must focus on your tension; I must release it. I massage you, my hands firmly wrapped around your shoulders as I squeeze the muscles and move my hands inwards, and begin to trace your spine with my knuckles. I can feel the tension begin to discharge. With open hands I caress your back with firm care, and I can feel you start to go limp—a good sign, a sign that you are relaxing into this. Your breathing steadies, slow and peaceful, expectant. I reach your shoulders again; the tension is gone, but I don’t stop the massage. I continue, hands around your shoulder muscles, my thumbs beginning to caress the nape of your neck. You start to tense up again—not a negative tension, but one that speaks satisfaction. You begin to lift your arms and speak, but I stop you.
“Shhhhh. Keep your arms to your side. Don’t speak. Keep your eyes closed.”
Without a word you hang your arms to your side again, and what words you did have to speak have now turned to soft moans. You like this, my caressing your neck, the thumbs slowly penetrating the skin. You tilt you head back as if you would stare at the ceiling, taking the moment in. Your breathing, I notice, has become a little heavier, agitated, perhaps. I can feel something in the air. Release. Abandonment. Desire.
With the same firmness I follow the flow of your back again and lift my hands under your shirt. You raise your arms and allow me to lift it off, and it drops silently to your side. You stand in front of me still with your back towards me, wearing only a pair of blue men’s boxers. I can see from the lack of outline that you are wearing no panties. I want them off—but not yet. We must wait. I take my fingertips and gently—barely—press them against your back, up, to your shoulders. I have finished with the firmness with which I caressed you earlier. bursa escort Now, gentleness. Now, ease. Now, caring. I stop again at your neck and glide slowly, methodically over the spot that made you lose your breath in anticipation. That spot. I circle it with my fingers, over and over again, listening to your breath become heavier, quicker. I can move now. Over the shoulders, down the front, slowly still, still with nothing more than a gentle brush of my fingertips. I reach your breasts, which have been patiently waiting my arrival. I know you want to turn around, to have me take them into my mouth, but you wait and allow me to continue with my plan. Your nipples, one under each set of fingertips. You feel them grow as I feel them grow under the slight weight I put on them. As they grow, I notice the first of the goose bumps raise over your back, your arms. I take a breast in each hand, gently still, then move my hands down over your belly, where I feel thousands of goose bumps there, waiting to be comforted.
I move forward and place my lips to your back. You start to moan, but again I insist: “Shhhhh,” barely taking my lips from your back, so that you feel the “Shhhhh” on you and the goose bumps persist. My lips are on your back again. I kiss you, gently, my tongue following your spine. My hands have moved to the front of you boxer shorts. There desire awaits me, and I intend on meeting her demands. Now, there is no tension left in your body at all—only the anxiety of not knowing when you will feel me beyond the soft caresses I give you. I move along the fragile outline of your pussy, the fingers of my hand meeting and joining in a V around you. I slide my fingers underneath, still outside of the shorts. It is starting to get wet there; she quivers, excited, restless. She wants released.
I must obey the unspoken words I hear. I grasp the rim of the boxers and slowly—slowly ease them down. Inch by inch, second by second, moving slowly to build the wet fire inside you. I look down and see that my underwear is wet, stained with the precum that desires so much to pour from me. I can wait though. I hesitate, the boxers wrapped around your legs above the knees. I take in your fine, firm ass. I let the boxers bursa escort rest there and move my fingertips up again, against your thighs, to your pussy, which I find engaging as my fingers enter you. A soft sigh exits you as I enter. Wetness. Smoothness. You have shaved your pussy, and I take the wetness I find on my finger and rub spread it around where your hair should be. My fingers glide along the area, easily slipping back through the crack, where I find your clit, and I wet it as well, knowing she is pleased that I have found her. Your supple sigh confirms this knowledge.
I let your boxers fall to the floor with a silent finality, and I gently push you forward so I can stand up. I remove my briefs. You can hear my cock release from its bindings, a dull yet lively thud. You reach your hands back and touch it, and I wait a second, almost willing to let you turn around. No. I can feel the pressure in my cock, almost a cry, as I remove your hands and set them back to your side. I press up to you, my cock into your back. The precum wets your back, and I simultaneously take your hands into my hands and your neck into my lips. I release your hands—I know they won’t go anywhere nor try to interfere. I press harder into you, as my hands search out your wet pussy once again. The time for gentleness is not over, no, but we can be a little more aggressive now.
My hands encompass your pussy, my fingers definitively moving through your labia, as I push my cock harder into your back. Sandwiched between my belly and your back, my juices intermingle with our bodies. I move back a little, away from you, but you move with me, as if my cock caressing your back this might bring you to orgasm. I know I am close already; my balls ache, screaming to let go, let go, let go. I do let go, but of your pussy, and I sit back down and bend you over. There, in front of me, your pussy gleams. I take a finger and run it along your lips, turning it as I move under you, so I can fondle your clit. I push my thumb into you as my finger circles your clit. No—my thumb isn’t enough, right now, even though I feel your juices slowly ease out of you into my hand.
I want to taste you. I want you to feel me taste you. I bend forward bursa eskort and start softly, moving over your lips with the point of my tongue, inching towards your ass, then back down. My tongue enters you, and you raise on your heels at the feeling. I keep my tongue in, moving it around as much as I can, my fingers now circling and ravishing your clit. I want you to cum, and I move my tongue and fingers with only this purpose in mind—that you cum and hard. You begin to move your ass back and forth, and I know you are close. I grasp your clit hard, then gently cuddle it to build the pressure I know you are already feeling. You moan, and I know the moans mean you are close, which only makes me more determined. Finally, you let loose. When you do, I return to barely touching your clit, allowing the soft orgasm to feel itself release with entire pleasure.
Now my cock can barely contain itself. I notice it throbs and jerks involuntarily, wishing to enter its house and seek comfort. I lay back in my chair and guide you to me, entering you from behind. The orgasm you just had allows for easy entry, and you push down on my as far as you can, allowing my cock to fill you entirely. You start to move, but I stop you.
“I am too close,” I say. “Just sit there, and think about me inside of you, deep inside of you.” You say nothing other than “mmm-hmmm.” I move my hand down and take your clit again, again the slow, gentle, barely touching, fingertip gestures. You can come like this, I know it. After a moment, you move your body in slow, deliberate moves—not so much that I will explode in an instant, but so that I can feel the orgasm in me build. Then I hear you try to catch your breath. That is all I needed to hear, the sound of you coming again. You want to move faster—you try to—but I tell you no. This slow motion sex is where it is and you know it. You only want to let the desire overcome you. But you slow back down so that I am not moving in and out of you, but merely inside of you. My cock is deep in you, growing large with orgasm. Your attempt at catching your breath again takes me to that point and I shoot into you, filling you as you simultaneously let loose as well. It takes a few moments for each of us to release at the pace we are moving. Yet we are in no rush, and we live each second in ecstasy, and the seconds seem to last hours.
You try to move from me as my cock grows soft. I won’t let you. I want us to sit here like this. You oblige. This is how it should be: you and I, one.
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