I want you so much I don’t even want to fuck you. I want hours…licking and lying…I want to lie with you. With the tension mounting. The air thick with my sexuality, taking your breath away, skin hot with my un-intensions. I want to feel you, hard…swallowing next to my ear. Knowing what’s on my mind as we pretend to watch some French film with a soundtrack that sounds like love in a dirty bathroom, like stolen night club sex. I want my breath inbetween your neck and for my wet mouth, glossy lips just a little sore where I’ve bitten them trying to keep my cool. I want my legs, making their move…my hand creeping across your chest, first to rest, on the left…to feel your heart, beating fast. Faster than the fake situation I’ve created could explain. My fingertips would brush against a tense nipple, but never quite long enough and soft as a whispered word, and then heavy as I lean across your chest, and make you watch me take a sip, slowly, from the glass across from you. A little dribbling down my chin and on to your sizzling ….I want skin to skin, you already shirtless. A casual removal of clothes, a thrown comment about heat…I want you to be able to feel my heat, a throbbing spot where I’m gripped around your hip from the side…but still never a promise and still never a lie. I want to make you uncomfortable, to want me, uncomfortably…nothing easy is worth having and I love that you make us work. Celibacy, you said, and it worked like an aphrodisiac to me. They fuck on the screen, I let out a little sound, tiny but rounded and deep from a secret place inside…the animalistic approval of someone doing what I do, and don’t want to do with you. I nestle back into that crook, soft and hard, body parts, pressing against you as I wriggle in a fake attempt to settle in. Taking all those lost moments from modern porn and making them go on for so agonisingly long that you become disconnected from time. I feel you, tense, I can feel the tightness beneath my thigh, the pull on your jeans. I know that big hard lump that was living in your throat has moved downward now, travelling under your limbs…hairs on end, they dig into me. My willing supple skin. Every part begging for penetration, but not letting you in. You clear your throat, just enough to break the intensity for a split second. Such a jolt to our unspoken desire that our atoms jump and fall back down, never returning, getting jumbled up with eachothers. Somehow drawing us closer. You’re now a part of me. The need between my thighs grows so great it could be described as a pain if it didn’t feel…so…god…damn…good. And I fear I’ve got myself in too deep, losing my edge as the femme fatale in me subsides and I’m reminded of the trepidation of masculinity and surprised in my own ability to really set a scene. I’ve forgotten now, pieces of you and me colliding, that it’s you I’m supposed to be driving wild, and I feel pulses all over, inside my chest the sexual soul tries in waves, to flood out of me, causing my breasts to rise and fall with velocity like a storm taking over a sea.Your eyes flick from you to me, and back to the screen. our limbs, our skin. You start to play me at my own game…your hands too now wonder, you grab parts of me and then discard them, just as easily. grinding my knee, but still you look at the screen. I’m fast losing my grip, containing anything I can no longer keep it in. And so I lean up a little, thrusting my everything into you, I purse my lips, and purr in your ear as I pull on your belt… ‘Please’ you clamp down on my hand…’I’m not going to fuck you’ I pause, sure you can’t be serious, ‘you only want me so much because you can’t have me’ those words, A confusing mix of confidence and insecurity, they niggle into me. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out’ I smirk, still playing at the minx, grasping at my control. Its the kind of smirk you can see without even looking, the kind you can hear, the kind you can feel and in an instance I feel everything in your body change. I haven’t even blinked and you’ve pulled me under you, you let your full weight engulf me, your chest constricting mine…and I gasp. You play at loss of control, pretending to give me everything I want and in my head I race through the next few minutes…unzip, hard cock, yelp, a moments agonising all consuming hard intense fuck…but you pull it back from me. You grab at the back of my hair pulling me hard backwards and into the bed. ‘I said, I’m not going to fuck you…slut!’ Your other hand around my face and nothing but contempt, or the pretense of it contorting your features. You spit in my face, such a shock tears spring into my eyes, overwhelmed by my own passion and willingness to lie there covered in you. You grab at my breasts moving down my body and I claw at your back – a desperate kitty that’s lost control of her prey. I know I’m writhing and I’m humiliated by my desperation, by my tears, by the soaking sheets beneath me. You let go of my hair with a sharp jerk and grab hold of either knee pulling my already pathetically open legs even further apart, you’re inbetween them now, I feel your breath on my clit, you pause and look up at me…with nothing but quiet control behind your eyes, you hold that moment forever…parodying my earlier seduction, ridiculing my former assumptions. I can’t control my body, I bring my hips up, I grab your hair I need some relief, my release is so close and you know it, but you remind me it’s not mine to take and hold my wrists down to the sheet. Teasingly you flick your tongue over me and then sucking wildly and rhythmically making me explode embarrassingly fast as I beg myself not to cum…proving my total and utter passivity to you, i do, to my desires. I am broken by epiphany and shaken with intensity. Our dynamic forever altered, and with our atoms evolved with realisations, you collapse on to me.
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