Friday Night

A smile crosses my face as I remember what we did. Your words, your hands commanding my hands, my body reacting at each touch, at each murmured suggestion.

Your hands trace my body as my own do, both touching, caressing. Your mouth at mine, our tongues playing, dancing. Your lips branding my skin, kissing down my throat. Your tongue barely touching my nipples, teasing me, making me arch in wanting.

My own hands want to touch you, to return the favour you are giving me. Fingers running through your hair, across your shoulders, and down your back. Hands sliding down, turning beneath and up along your chest, pushing you away and down onto the bed, allowing me to kiss along your jaw and down your chest as I slowly unbutton your shirt, pulling it from you.

We tussle, our hands wanting to touch, our mouths wanting to taste. Eventually, your gentle strength wins, and again you begin to kiss down my body, taking your time to lick and nibble. Gentle sucks on my nipples, hardening, lengthening, playful nips making me gasp and arch towards you, wanting exactly this, wanting more.

My leg slide between yours, my thigh pressing up against you. You moan against my stomach as you move down my body, trapping my leg between yours. I press up against you again, teasing you through the denim of your jeans, wishing my hands could stroke and feel. But your hands are holding my own, our fingers linked. My grip tightens as you reach your goal, your lips brushing across my clit. Your tongue delves and flicks, and I can do nothing except pant and gasp, arching my back, pressing my head against the pillow.

You moan against me in response, and I know I can’t let you continue, not like this. I pull one hand from your grasp, placing it on your head. You run the flat of your tongue along my clit, and my fingers clutch reflexively in your hair. You let go of my other hand, pushing yourself back up my body to lie beside me. You stroke my body again as you kiss me deeply, your hand moving down my body, fingers playing before sliding deep inside me.

You know where to stroke, you know how to achieve the reaction from me that you want. But it’s not what I want. Not all that I want.

I grab your hand as I break our kiss. “No,” I panted. “I need…”

“What, babe?” You thumb brushes against my clit again before you allowed me to pull your hand away. “What do you need?”

“You. More. Everything.” I pushed you back away from me, reaching to undo the stud of your jeans. I kiss down your chest as I unzip the fly, your hands helping me remove your jeans and boxers. My hands clasp you lightly, stroking and caressing, revelling in the feel of you, before I lower my head to taste. I suck on you lightly, my tongue stroking you, your hands running through my hair.

Suddenly, your grip tightens, and you pull me away, your mouth seeking mine as you roll onto me. My legs slide around you, crossing at your lower back and pulling you to me tightly as you fill me. We gasp at the sensation before we begin to move together, our bodies becoming slick with perspiration.

Our rhythm is slow at first, but the pace increases as our orgasms grow. My fingers clutch at your back, and I call your name as my body spasms, your mouth at my shoulder, sucking and biting as you come with me. My whole body shakes, as does yours, as you collapse, rolling us to one side. Our kisses are breathless, our body heat slowly drops from the inferno that just engulfed us to a enveloping warm haze.

I curl beside you, wrapped in your arms, listening to your heart slow. I kiss your chest, and you pull me closer, lips brushing my forehead. Nothing more needed to be said than that.