Author’s Note: Thank you, my friends for your encouragement and support as well as your thoughtful feedback on this piece. I am so grateful for each of you and am humbled by your kindness and your friendship.
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I feel your hands sliding under the curve of my bottom; your fingers caress the cool, soft, smooth jersey-cotton fabric of my chocolate brown-with-pink-lace-trim boy shorts as your lips smile against the skin of my neck. “You look just like I imagined you would in these,” you murmur as the tips of your fingers move in small, slow circles over the fabric curved snugly over my ass. “The contrast of the chocolate and pink against the creaminess of your skin is just beautiful.”
You chuckle and arch an eyebrow at me. “And the whimsical touch of tiny pink polka-dots suits you so well, Sydney.” Your fingertips trace along the abstract pattern of the stippled pink dots to the tiny pink bow topped with a delicate silken rose at the front center of the waist.
“Simply stunning,” you say, almost reverently
“Thank you; I rather like them myself,” I giggle nervously, deflecting the compliment as I habitually do. Then I silently chastise myself.
“I was referring to you. You are simply stunning.”
I am at a loss for words. I won’t brush aside the compliment again. This—you here with me…us together where there is only desire—is so very….it’s simply so very unexpected that my heart dives, flips, and soars before it returns to its steady staccato.
Instinctively, you seem to understand my silence, and your lips, filled with silent promises, brush tenderly across my forehead.
Your breath fans across my ear as you nuzzle the edge of your jaw-line against my cheek and inhale deeply. “Mmmmm…this has always been one of my favorite smells on you—spicy with a subtle hint of sweet; provocative and sensual yet refined. Orange flower, violets, and vanilla laced with a touch of patchouli, and birchwood, isn’t it?”
I draw in a slightly startled breath, surprised that you had, before now, paid such close attention to one of my favorite scents, even though I change them often to suit my mood. But then, I merely nod my assent, feeling my face grow warm with a rosy flush from the delicious friction of our faces rubbing together. I drink in the feel and the texture of your skin—smooth, yet a bit rough from very light stubble. You haven’t shaved in a couple of days because you have simply been slammed with work.
“God, your face and the heat wafting from your body feels so very good against mine.”
I feel so wanton with you here, lying on my bed, leaning against me as I am stretched out before you. I try to concentrate on the sensations that ripple through me as your fingers slide down and along the delicate silky pink lace trim around the leg openings to my lingerie. The skin on my upper thigh quivers and flashes with heat from the trail of your fingers.
As your lips move along the curve of my neck and shoulder, goose bumps pop along my skin. I am not cold; the nearness of you that I have craved for oh-so-long now is simply perfect and so right that I can barely contain the emotions swelling within. A breathless, throaty sigh escapes my lips as I draw in scent of you—that crisp woody scent. I can pick out the individual nuances in that blend I have associated with you for so long now—the rich scents of oak moss and tobacco leaves coupled with a hint of leather, cinnamon, Bergamot, and lavender. It’s Burberry cologne; I recognize the scent well from when I worked on an advertising campaign for a small upscale downtown boutique. But the smell is so much richer on you than it ever was from just the bottle.
I feel your teeth nipping at the strap of my matching bra, catching it delicately and sliding it over and down the curve of my shoulder so that the cup slides to the side. My skin blossoms with warmth as your lips begin moving along the swell of my bosom and your teeth pull the cup over more to expose a nipple. Your breath hovers over my taut bud as your cheek rubs against my breast. The friction of the rub of our skins together prompts me to arch toward you, pressing up, almost as if I am begging for the touch of your mouth to that hardening pink that juts forth proudly from my breast.
I feel your fingers slip under the bottom edge of my boyshorts to briefly caress my ass before slipping out to slide to my hips where you begin to edge that chocolate fabric down slowly, languidly. You are teasing, drawing out the moment, knowing that my need for you to touch me and to see me naked before you is as much a slow seduction as your actual touch is. My hips arch upward, signaling that deep need. And you chuckle, low in your throat. You are enjoying this exquisite torment.
Your fingers continue their path, sliding delicate lingerie down over my long legs; I feel your fingers curling delicately around my ankle as if to examine it before your palm, cupping, slides up my calf and bends my leg up and then gently pushes it to the side. Your hot breath fans across my nipple once, and then twice. And then your mouth slowly slides its warmth over that puckered flesh; all of my need seems to pulse in that one area.
A moan, unbidden, escapes my lips. I flush, suddenly acutely aware of how much I want you. I have never wanted anything as much as I want you at this moment.
My fingers dig into your shoulder, still clothed. Then, I tear at buttons. Your mouth pulls from my hardened nipple. I feel bereft. I bite back words that would let you know just how much I want your mouth back there.
Your hands still mine for a moment and, as you raise your head, your eyes lock onto mine. I can see the hesitation in them and the questions. You are wondering how far this can go before there is no turning back. You are wondering if I am okay with this change in our relationship. I take a breath to speak, but before I can, you quietly ask, “Are you sure, Sydney; are you really sure?”
I search your face and see the emotions that are racing and crashing through me mirrored there—anticipation, need, joy, hope, trepidation, and…my eyes widen with a dawning…belonging—complete and unhesitating…the comfort of being right where you and I know we were eventually meant to find our way to.
“Syd?” you barely whisper as the tendrils of doubt cross your visage. So much hinges on that small question, yet I am still struck speechless by what I have seen in your eyes.
I nod, almost furiously, thinking, “How can you not see how sure I am?”
You pull back slightly. “No, Sydney…I need to know if you are really sure; this changes the very nature of our relationship entirely. Our friendship until now has been strictly platonic for a good eight years. I need to know if you are really sure.”
I nod again, not trusting myself to speak. Not trusting myself to tell you how badly I want you…no…need you.
“I need you to say it,” you almost growl.
Breathless, “Yes, yes, I am sure; I have never been surer of anything, Kallen. I am sure that I want this…I want you this way,” slips from my lips.
Our movements become a blur. My fingers tug at your shirt, pulling it from your pants. I grab the hem of your shirt and undershirt all at the same time. Buttons are forgotten. We hurriedly shrug your shirt off. I suck in a sharp breath—almost a hiss—at the sight of your bare chest.
Somewhere in the midst of the hurried fumbling with clothing, you have deftly managed to remove my bra, which joins your shirt in hanging jauntily off the slope of the footboard. Something about that image of the delicate lace of my bra resting safely tucked against your shirt, one sleeve draped around the bra, holding it, makes me smile.
Your belt is quickly loosened; I am not sure, in the tangle of fingers at your waist, who managed to unclasp your belt. Your pants and boxer briefs are removed in one fell swoop and land haphazardly on the floor as my fingers seek the warmth of your skin. I smooth my hands along your abdomen, for I don’t yet trust myself to touch the hardness that I feel pressed against my leg. I tangle my legs in yours, relishing and shivering at the feel of the soft springy hair of your legs sliding against the smooth bareness of mine.
I am afraid that touching the heat of you at this moment will send me spiraling over this edge of desire and I want to enjoy all of you. My fingers continue to explore the angles of your torso, smoothing upward from your abdomen to your chest, swirling around your nipples, and then sliding to your shoulders as your mouth, with a small growl, descends over one of my rigid nipples and your fingers tug at the other one. Your tongue flattens along that hardened peak and bathes it; the sensation is incredible. And then, you begin to suck-gently at first and then harder; I cry out, moaning your name.
You pause, and lift your head slightly, catching my eyes as your tongue continues its tender ministrations. “I want…no…I need to hear that again,” you whisper.
You see my eyes darken; my breath draws in sharply as I understand. I arch my head and neck forward slightly, my lips press against your ear, and then I grab the tender lobe between my teeth as I whisper your name, once, twice, thrice: “Kallen, Kallen, Kallen.”
Your mouth descends, your tongue flicking and encircling the turgid hardness of my nipple as the heat of your mouth slips over it again. My fingers dig into the flesh of your biceps. I can see the half-moon impressions that my fingernails leave in your skin as the feel of your mouth sends tiny ripples of pleasure through me. I am so focused on that sensation that the feel of your fingers teasing my lower lips comes as a small, but wonderful, shock. I gasp and, involuntarily, my legs part further and my back and hips arch toward the touch of your hand. Your fingers continue lightly, barely brushing against my womanhood…teasing…hinting at what I instinctively know your tongue will soon do.
Your mouth moves off my nipple with a small wet pop, and I groan, not wanting that sensation to end, but my groan turns to a deep moan as your tongue moves languidly down between my breasts, caressing my flesh in tune to the play of your fingers between my legs. Your fingers stroke gently, barely brushing those lips, and I hear the sharp inhale of your breath; you are surprised at the wetness. My juices flow freely over your fingers; my need for you can no longer be hidden. Slick with my dew, your fingers begin longer strokes, parting my lips, seeking my innermost secrets.
The brush of your tongue, punctuated with alternating gentle and slightly sharper nips with your teeth, trails a path down from between my breasts and across my abdomen. In a haze of desire, I feel the heat of your mouth brush over my belly button and your tongue lazily circle it before your mouth moves over toward my hip. My back arches at the orchestration of sensations from your mouth and hands; my head, thrown back, rolls against the bed, my hair fanning out over the sheet.
Suddenly, I become fully aware of the path your lips are moving along, and my hand flashes up to cover the outer curve and ridge of my hip bone. My fingers press tightly over that area, paling my already pale skin underneath them. Your mocha-brown eyes look up to my deep green ones…a question in them…and then dawning.
Shadows flicker across your eyes darkening them to the color of unadulterated espresso. I recognize the brief flash of anger behind those shadows. Yet, you reflexively and instantly tamp down that anger as you feel me shift a bit beneath you. My fingers press harder over that area of my hip, paling and then pinking my skin beneath them. I want desperately to keep your eyes held to mine; I don’t want you to see, but my shifting draws your attention back to my hip.
Your head lowers swiftly, and your mouth moves over those fingers. Your tongue flicks across the gentle curve of my lower abdomen toward my hip and, then, along my fingers. Your teeth gently nibble at the sensitive band of skin and tendon between my thumb and index finger, and my breath sucks in. I am afraid to let go of that breath as your lips close around the tips of my fingers, first one and then the next.
Gently, you draw my fingers into the warm depths of your mouth; your tongue swirls around them in rhythm to the motion of your fingers along my inner thigh. A soft low moan escapes my tightly pressed lips…my legs opening reflexively…needing…wanting that touch. Still, I cannot let go of that breath I am holding on to.
My fingers move in your mouth, tugging, drawing my hand up and away from my hip, exposing that thin jagged line. You pause; your movement stills as you take in the sight of that decade-old scar. I see your eyes moisten for just a minute. You are quiet, as you slowly let my fingers slip from your mouth; your hand between my legs stills momentarily, but before I can cover that ugliness, your head dips and your lips place small tender kisses along my hip, then your tongue slowly traces every rambling inch of that white line..
You whisper against the lower most tip of the scar, “It’s who you are; stop hiding her; she’s beautiful.”
My breath explodes out…relief washing over me. Your tongue continues to dance along my hip and then along that tender skin between my thigh and shortly trimmed hair. Your cheek rubs against the hair, and I hear you inhale deeply, breathing in my musky scent. Your head descends, and your lips tease my lower lips as fingers gently continue to trace and, then, part. It’s as if you are studying that first close sight of my womanhood.
I feel one hand move and then slide up my calf, lifting my leg across your shoulder as your tongue explores gently, tracing just around that bud but not quite touching it. My fingers clutch at the material of the sheets; I feel the slip of their cool silkiness underneath my fingers in contrast to the warmth of your mouth. My hips arch, giving away my need for you.
“Please, Kallen; please,” I whisper throatily, begging you to answer my raging desire.
And then I feel your tongue flattening out, slowly licking me from bottom to top and back several times, until…there…the tip of your tongue stabs gently at that hard bud, and your fingers enter me, stroking slowly and tenderly at first. Wetness pools around your fingers, and they slicken with my juices.
A chuckle reverberates against me, and the sensation sends shivers through my entire body. You whisper against my womanhood, “I have wanted to taste this for such a long time and to watch your eyes as I do this.”
My eyes widen and my breath catches at the depth of the lust in your eyes. It’s ferocious, breathtaking, and beautiful all at once.
The thrusts of your fingers slow inside me, and you pull them out, with one teasing flick to my clit. Time seems to stop for just a second, and gently first one finger, and then two slide into my tight ass, caressing at first and then plunging. My eyelids flutter and my eyes darken with a surge of passion. A moan builds from deep within me; raw need like none I have ever known wafts through the air as that moan bursts from between my lips.
I lean up slightly to watch, and my breath catches at the sight of the contrast of you thick jet-black hair against the creaminess of the skin of my thigh. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful mouth of yours before it dives between my legs, and your tongue drives inside me matching the pace of the fingers in my ass.
I cry out. I’ve needed this for so long…wanted your fingers there. The dual rhythm of your fingers and tongue sends me over an edge. I tighten around those slender fingers, so close…
“Please…please…Kal…” my voice trails off as I pant, begging you.
You growl against my wetness and the vibrations of the growl send little ripples of pleasure through me.
The thought, “God…I am so close,” reverberates through my head, and then the words burst out of me.
A muffled growl comes from between my legs as the thrusts of your tongue come more furiously and the stroke of your fingers plunging in and out of my ass increases in tempo.
And just as I am ready, your tongue slips out of me, and my clit is caught between your teeth. A tiny nip and then the lap of a tongue with just the right pressure as you work a third finger in my ass. Waves of pleasure crash over me as I begin to orgasm. Another tiny nip at my clit punctuates the crest of my orgasm.
I moan, drawing in ragged breaths, as I feel your warm tongue continue to slide over my clit, over my opening, dipping in lightly, lapping up juices, catching the last of the spasms, dipping again to slide teasingly around where you fingers are, and flicking against the pucker of my ass before moving up to my clit for one last slow teasing stroke. Warmth ripples and spreads through me; I tingle and pulse all over.
Your fingers slip out of my ass and your weight slides up my body. Your mouth captures mine, and we breathe together, trying to steady ourselves. Our tongues duel as my taste invades my mouth. I suck deeply on your tongue needing to draw the taste of me off it. I nibble my juices off your succulent lower lip. My gasp of pleasure as your hardness enters me is lost in the heat of mouths warring against one another and my need to suckle the last of my juices from you.
The first swift stroke of you inside my slick wetness is beautiful beyond words. You feel so incredible there. I feel you twitch and bounce slightly as I adjust around you. The sensation of you thrusting deep inside me is something that I have craved for what seems like an eternity, and now that the moment is here, it is more than I ever imagined it would be.
My hips arch to meet the rhythm of your thrusts. I can’t help but stare at the contrast of our skin–the pale creaminess of mine sliding against the golden olive of yours. I burn that image into my mind for I don’t know when, or if, I will ever see us together like this again.
Our bodies shift, and my legs are both up over your shoulders. I moan loudly as the feel of your hard shaft slides deeply into me, reaching for my core. I am so wet…so hot…so full of desire…and so close to the edge again. My eyes flash a deep, deep need, and a small whisper of please escapes my lips. “Please,” I whisper again.
You chuckle throatily, and another whisper interrupts my begging, “Tell me what you want, Sydney.”
I hesitate, and the thrusts stop.
“No…please; don’t stop,” I gasp.
Your dark brown eyes flash fiercely. “Tell me what you want, Sydney,” comes out in a growl as a small thrust teases. My nails dig into your forearms, scraping your skin, and my need overrides all rational thought.
“I want you to fuck my ass; I need you to fuck my ass,” I growl out as the thrusts pick up slightly. Your thrusts pause, and I feel a momentary sense of loss as the hardness buried inside me slips out. But, the sense of loss subsides as I feel you slowly ease into my ass.
I gasp. “Oh God, Kallen; it’s been too long.”
You pause. I can see the concern flash across your face; you are afraid that you will hurt me. I buck, signaling my need and pushing that hardness into me, feeling you fill me. You meet my arching and press deeper, and, then, you pause to let my body adjust.
The leverage and angle is perfect as the rhythm begins to pick up. I ache to feel you slamming into me. My moans grow louder; “Please,” I gasp out between moans. You instinctively understand as you bury yourself completely in me.
I need so desperately to be fucked—to be taken fully—and you can smell that desperation. Your hips find just the right rhythm and your fingers slide under my ass…gripping…pulling me to you with each thrust. You possess me with your hardness.