Coming Over

‘Coming’ Over

I’m knocking at your door. I’m standing out here in my coat, the long grey one. Can’t you hear me? I’ve got on my black, knee-length, high heeled boots. The water drops glisten on the polish. You must be able to. My dark hair is covered by the low hood, but it’s been blow-dried. Come on, open up. The dark wool is itching against my chest. I’m wearing nothing else, except for the shoes. My nipples ache, from more than just the cold. I’m listening through the letterbox. I can hear a fire crackling in the hearth. My lips are painted red, and they are hungering for you. I try not to bite down. I want to look good for you. For you. I’ve rung the bell too, even though I know it’s been bust for months. An old habit. I’m finding it hard to wait. My fingers have slipped between the buttons, slid down, and now they’re pressing there too, even though I know it won’t be enough. I need more, but several inches of solid wood are keeping me from yours. I hear a sound, and for a moment I’m hopeful… Your garden wall is low, and the neighbour’s washing blows in the gale, and she rushes to get it down. I don’t care. The goosebumps are spreading up from my socks, which only cover up till my knees. I shift, tightening the grip of my thighs, anticipative. I stand still now, looking into the still, white curtains behind the little glass panes. My breath steams. I sigh. Drip. I lean against the door. It isn’t enough. I need more. I need… I’ve banged on the door again. …I knead my breasts, standing now against the door frame. Home is where the heart is. Let me in. You know you want to. My eyes are smouldering within the black painted frames. A -picture of predilection. I shiver. Answer. The rain is coming down heavy, each drop thudding, each one touching an individual spot all over the surface of the driveway. Each sound is a sting while I remain pristine and unmarked. Why are you still reading this? Get your hand out of your pants and open the door. I’m waiting… 

The water in the loch was having a strange effect on Cassie. She and Martin kissed under the noon day sun, and her clothes felt itchy and tight. She felt her cleavage press against Martin, as her ass and thighs threatened to bust out of her jeans, and wondered how long till her boyfriend noticed the changes. She felt herself grow wet...

I Want Him To Get Hard Remembering This

I slump before him in one swift, fluid motion. I pull him forward, and his dick hardens on my hot breath. I’m licking him now, and I feel him stretch as he enters my mouth. My lips part further and he moans. It’s intoxicating, this power I have over him. He stands precariously before my mercy. I am taking him, drawing in whole and engulfing him, and I am not inclined to cease. He shakes, and I feel his hands tighten in my hair. We are perfectly reversed. I it is I who kneel before him, and yet it is he who prays in ecstasy to me. I suck harder, working my tongue back and forth, twirling his shaft round in my mouth, flitting over the head. His demureness breaks in sharp intakes and gasps of breath. This compels me, countercommanding me, along with the pleading of a palm, to increase my ministration. I feel myself moisten, and I cannot help but smile, a mix of wry pleasure and giddiness at how turned on we both are. Fellatio is an overtly and implicitly sexual act, purely carnal, filling one with a certain rush separate from penetration. I could feel him tensing as I moved my head back and forth, back and forth, looking up into his eyes. My lips formed a perfect ‘O’ around his cock, and we were both conscious of the slightly wet sound of the sucking, an undertone beneath our moaning. Neither here are wholly master or servant. I am in control, and knowing it makes me wetter still. I soothe my own aching by inserting a finger downstairs. I begin to rub my clit, slippery already, in time. I swear I felt his dick bulge as he noticed what I was doing. His own measure of dominance is there too, standing in front of me, tall and imposing, expectant as I serve him. He worships me, his goddess, and I grant him my favour, bowing in turn. I’ve increased my speed, both for myself and for him. I move him round and round, lubricating him for what is to come. I start to work the shaft, and I more firmly grab his ass. Slowly I slide it in and out, going at the head. I can’t help but feel personal satisfaction, a big part of the turn on, at just how big and hard I have made this man. I push a bit further, little by little, and then, all at once, I take him by surprise, fully deep throating him. He moans, louder again, before suddenly quietening in slight embarrassment. This spurs me on, and I work him faster and faster, harder and harder. I can feel him shaking, vibrating with pleasure, unable to contain himself. It’s so good, and so fast. I look up and he can barely meet my gaze, his eyes are rolling back into his head in elation. I’ve told him that I don’t want to swallow, that I don’t like it. A simple ruse. Far away I feel him start to say something, but I know what it is before he can stutter it. His dick is beginning to swell, and there’s a salty taste on the edge of my tongue as it flickers around the swollen head. He tries to tell me again, with more urgency in between his ragged breaths, and I moan all the louder, tightening my grip on him. I can feel his nervousness, his inner desire to spurt all over me and down my throat, clashing with his sweet concern for me. I’m going to give him what he wants, and so much more. I want him to get hard just thinking about this. Taking one hand from his ass and the other from my clit, I grab my tits and rub my cleavage already taut nipples with my own juice. He’s still trying to warn me, trying to hold on, but just unable to tear himself away. Good. I want him to explode with all the sexual tension that’s building. The fantasy for him must be overwhelming. The girl who foreswore what is about to happen is bringing it on with all haste. I shove his cock between my tits, not letting it loose from between my lips for even a second, and begin to pump up and down, feeling his cock engorge to almost bursting point. I love this feeling, of sealing his fate and controlling his desire; fuelling it, becoming his erotic reverie. I moan, feral, and I can almost see in his mind the realisation that I must be unaware of what is to come on a conscious level, and that my libido is fully in control. Frankly, he is not too far from the mark. I no longer care, it feels so good, and I feel so forceful. I am going to make him cum, and I bet I can do it in seconds. I am in overdrive. His dick is so hard, riding up and down between mounds of tit and in and out of my hot, hungry, gaping maw, ready to devour him. Like some succubal nymph of legend told by fearing priests, I have come for his seed. One last time it expands. I am licking him all over, sucking for all I am worth. His hands, loose a moment before, have tightened in my hair. And then, he cums. I take it all, swallowing his hot cum as it rushes into my mouth, down my throat. I gulp it down, and for a moment his cock is free from my lips’ vice grip. Like a cannon he sprays my breasts with it too, and it dribbles down my tits, hot and thick, before I take him back into my mouth, determined to get every last drop. I keep sucking, and more semen issues. He looks taken aback somewhere in his mind, but is too busy crying out in absolute euphoria, unable to process anything but pleasure. His dick continuously spasms, and I continue to caress it. Eventually some of the bliss is a little too much for him, so I give him the occasional break while I dip a finger into the load on my chest and gently lap it up. Delicious… exquisite. 

An Ample Anniversary - Part II

Now you lie for a moment, after you’ve both come, playing with one another. You would have said that her delineation was mind-boggling, but you are spellbound, too enraptured to think of anything but the senses at present. You look into her eyes, unfathomable as the currents of the deep ocean and the earth beneath forest leaves. Gently moving aside a tress of her locks, you whisper in her ear that you love her. She replies with a kiss, and you caress and fondle one another for a long time, travelling over one another’s bodies. The two of you are in complete harmony, each heart still racing for the other. This is complete bliss. 

You stroke the curves of her titanic form, appreciating every subtle inch of the great camber. Her hips hook you, her thighs encompass your world, and her derriere forms it; her demure, slender waist decorously inclines towards it with a delicacy the eye cannot follow. Her breasts, teardrop velvet and soft, with their puffy, dark nipples always looking as if they ache for you, softly merge with your chest as you pull her closer and kiss those delicate, sculpted lips, the bow round and full. That is her, round and full, potent and encapsulating. She is yours, and you are hers, and you know this. Her hair trails on to your shoulder, a river of little cascading curls washing over the edge of her face, her features fine and striking. Her neck is lightly spotted with perspiration, and you lean in and kiss her deeply there. A hand trails around your midriff, and pulls you closer. The other strokes one of your thighs, the other between hers. You can still feel the secretion between her legs, and after a moment you stir, your body responding to the call of hers, a light and tinkling music. You stiffen slightly. The touch is haunting, full of dreams… and then all is swept away. You feel desire, raising its antlers in you, and she sees the fiery expression on your face as you lift your head to look at her beautiful face. You want her again, and you know she wants you too. You rise, still looking her in the face, virile and single-minded. Your cock is rigid. She must be sensing this in you, as you knew she naturally could not help but do, and you feel your member strain toward her. She pulls her hair back and then kneels in front of you, her curving rear flourishing behind her like two, smooth moons. She parts your legs, holding them open with both hands as she advances upon you on her knees, jiggling like an earthquake as she does so. Her curves bounce, hips, tits, thighs, and butt, as if electricity is running through them, and then she envelops your length in your mouth. She sucks, honing the stiff erection, making it bigger and harder. Sliding it in and out, she lubricates it, before slipping it between her tits. She titfucks you with gusto, encasing your cock between her mammories and shaking her rack this way and that, up and down, pleasuring you all over. She continues doing this for a few minutes, and it feels better than it has ever done. The elation from before, combined with a technique she has never before displayed, takes you well past rock and to titanium hardness. The head of your dick moves in and out of her mouth. She licks and sucks the head of your cock, all the while mashing her tits around your pole. You thought she was self-conscious because she said her tits weren’t big enough to do this properly… Well, no complaints here, far from it. It turns you on just that much more knowing she’s thrown all inhibition out the window, not that there’s any founding for any. These puppies are plenty big enough. The buxom temptress brings you to a degree of… delectable turgidity and stops, releasing something like a rod of veined adamant into the crisp air. You moan for her not to, but she only smiles and strokes your nose with a finger. Bemused, you smile back, momentarily softened by this familiar sweet gesture the two of you have between you, but this is backed by an inexorable shift towards her, your hand resting on her plum hamstring. Still smiling, She gets up, gigantic legs raising her, lissom as a cat. She moves, passing the kitchen counter to the mantelpiece, and you can only but look on as you are staggered by the sway, which you briefly wonder if she exaggerating with this very effect in mind (if such a thing is possible), of her immensity. Your feet take you after her unbidden, and you are then behind her, standing before this larger than life lion’s share of backside, though the rest of her is still at arm’s length. She turns, a sultry grin now coating her face, twisting her body just so, so that a generous amount of tit, accentuated by the complimentary arcs, also joins the display. Her hands above her hips, she winks at you. “Mmm… I have a good idea. I’ve noticed there’s a little left…” she purrs, her hand suddenly on your cock making long strokes. She turns, allowing you to see her buttocks in their fully glory. “Could you please help me… apply it sir?” she coos. You glance down at your dick as a strange, slightly hot feeling beginning to course through you throbbing, and you notice a green, thick substance coating it. She gives her tits a peremptory, encouraging, squeezing rub, and then smacks her behind, and lets the now empty phial drop to the floor. Epilogue: The idea to fuck against the mantelpiece in your old house, on which was perched the stand containing all the numerous phials of green and other varying colours, was either a reckless oversight or a stroke of genius. You’re beginning to think your wife is a number of steps ahead of you in more than just the literal sense… Time to go now, ‘Duty’ calls.

Part I: 

Inspirations are once again from Bootychekepete!

Edit of his pictures done by me.

bootycheekpete.deviantart.com/…

bootycheekpete.deviantart.com/…

Three Words of Consequence

I’m stroking his sleeping form, my hand tracing the idlest of circles with the deepest concentration. This is the one I have chosen, he who is mine. I sit now, watching the soft rise and fall of his shoulder blades under his slowing breathing. The slumber is deepening under my coaxing, and I feel content. My fingers are widespread, and gently skip across the thick waves of his back, exploring each crest and trough. It responds, resilient in some places, pliant and soft in others. I brush close to the edge of the quilt, under which his lower half is covered, and feel goose pimples rise. Are they from cold, or tremors of the sensation? His face is turned away from me. How does he always, even after the fall into unconsciousness, know where the glints of my eyes will be? I brush my hand through his hair, thick and coarse; always in need of a brush. He can’t hide it anymore. He said it, he said it tonight. I think back, to blissful foray past, when moon put her ear to the gap in the curtains to listen to the night time radio, turned up just a little too loud for furtiveness, while we moved in the dark. I could not see him then either, the ghost light cast his features in shadow, but as I lay back, feeling, I heard it on the rim of his lips. I saw the syllables, darker than the gloom, work their way through his gaping breath and around his ragged tongue. They emerged, and they were quiet. It was almost as if he was ignorant of their import, or unaware of what it was that, as if it had slipped out and escaped. A whisper and we were bound. Inextricable. The moments of our passion passed, and yet he remained. It was I who slipped out from under, not quite knowing why, many minutes after and though, heavy with echo. “I love you.” 

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