 |
I wake up horny, likely because I was having erotic dreams again. My very own tantalising hot sex story. But, as usual, when I attempt to poke around in my memory to recall them, to find out what sexiness my sleeping mind conjured up, the dreams dissipate like smoke. All I’m left with is a vague inkling that something filthy took place in my unconscious world, and the very real sensations in my body.
My nipples are hard, tingling and sensitive, my breasts heavy. My pussy is swollen, needy, and aches to be filled. I squeeze my thighs together, which obviously doesn’t do a damn thing to assuage my suddenly intense sexual cravings. But I know what will.
I smile, open my eyes and look over to Jimmy’s side of the bed. He isn’t there. My smile fades as I reach out and smooth a hand over the sheets, only to find them cold. He’s been gone a while. I pout, then roll onto my back and stretch languorously, enjoying the delicious pull in my muscles as I do so. I wriggle into the soft bedding—which feels divine against my naked skin. It gives off the faint aroma of clean laundry, and a less faint aroma of sex. I smirk. The latter is no surprise. Since Jimmy and I have been on our much-needed holiday, we’ve barely been able to keep our hands off each other.
With the blessed luxury of time on our side, we’ve played hard—fast, slow, different positions, loads of foreplay, no foreplay at all, toys, in the garden, the bathtub, over the kitchen counter… I’m not sure it was quite what the hosts of our rental had in mind when they told us to make ourselves at home, but hey, we’ve had tons of fun and haven’t broken anything. Yet. Thank goodness it’s a self-contained house on its own plot of land—no neighbours to disturb or offend. Or make jealous.
The sensual flashbacks of our copious lovemaking flitting through my mind ramp up my arousal further still. I’m temptedto call out for Jimmy, but I’ve no idea where he is, whether he’ll hear me, and I can’t be bothered to get out of bed just yet to go and find him. I’m comfortable here. I could send him a text, I suppose, or call him on his mobile phone. Mine’s on my nightstand—I wouldn’t even have to leave the bed.
Or, I think, as I dip my right hand beneath the sheet and slide it down my stomach and towards my shaven mound, I could take care of this myself. I don’t think Jimmy would begrudge me a solo orgasm when he’s so generously given me countless climaxes over the past few days. Maybe he’s even pleasing himself right now. Maybe he’s in the shower. Naked, wet and tugging on his long, thick cock. His head thrown back, his other hand braced against the tiled wall to keep him steady as the water pummels his sexy body, droplets rolling and bouncing off him, then succumbing to gravity.
I burrow deeper into the pillow and mattress, letting them cocoon me as I cup my vulva, then press my fingers between my pussy lips. I’m hot, wet, and my clit is already swollen and ready for action. It really must have been a scorcher of a dream. I’m gutted I can’t remember it.
Closing my eyes, I flip back to the mental image of Jimmy in the shower and let it play out as I slick my rapidly increasing juices up and over my aching bud. His gorgeous masculine form, his arousal, his raw passion—all ignite me as I draw slow, gentle circles around my clit. Sparks of pleasure radiate out, making my heart pound faster, my blood pump more furiously. My cheeks heat, and I can’t help but let out a moan as I enjoy the blissful sensations. My core flutters; I stroke harder, faster, each move adding to the delicious pressure building low within my pelvis.
I use my other hand to pinch and roll my nipples, cup my breasts in turn, sending lightning bolts of bliss zinging through me. More juices seep from my pussy, a hot trickle over my perineum which will no doubt add to the heady scent of sex on the bedsheets.
Fantasy-Jimmy has changed position. Now he’s hunched over, his arm and shoulder muscles flexing as he works furiously at his length while the showerhead rains on his nape and upper back. Through the steam billowing around the cubicle, I see rivulets scurry down his shoulder blades and over the plane of his lower back. Some then slow as they encounter the curve of his tight, luscious buttocks, before taking on the challenge, traversing the firm swoop of flesh before either tumbling into the abyss of the shower tray, or making it to the crease of his thighs. Others still disappear into the dark crease between those luscious buttocks, making their way over soft skin, coarse hairs and the tight hole of his back passage. Like the water droplets, I’ve explored both buttocks and crease in minute detail, with hands, fingers and tongue—even the occasional toy, if the mood strikes us.
The thought of crouching behind him in the shower and teasing his puckered hole while he tugs himself to completion fans the flames of my arousal, makes me hungry for… more. I leave the soft flesh of my breasts, the stiff buds that are my nipples behind, and slip my hand between my clammy thighs before curving two fingers inside myself with a groan. The feeling of fullness, of being stretched, of having yet more nerve endings stimulated, is incredible. I arch my back, clenchmy internal muscles around my digits, sparking off yet more heavenly sensations. It’s almost too much.
I’m so horny now, my climax so close that I can’t concentrate on my fantasy any longer. I’m fully in the moment, aware of every millimetre of skin, being carried along on a current of pleasure as my rapid breath makes my chest heave, and my pulse pounds in my ears. I rub my clit, zero in on the tiny, unmarked spot that’s guaranteed to catapult me from simmering to bubbling over and really go for it.
I finger fuck myself simultaneously. It takes a few seconds to find a rhythm that works, but before long I’m gasping and moaning, bucking on the mattress with abandon as I approach the edge of orgasm. I continue until my toes are curled over the precipice and I’m looking down into the abyss. The anticipation makes goosebumps erupt all over my skin.
Then I… stop. Why not? I curl up one side of my mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. With all the time in the world, why on earth would I rush to come? Why wouldn’t I indulge in a spot of edging? For me, at least, it makes the final payoff all the sweeter. I leave one hand resting on my mound, the fingers of the other still jammed inside me, and catch my breath as I shuffle back from the precipice.
I wait, half in a doze, until the pound of blood in my ears has almost faded away. Then I take a deep breath and go again. Thrusting my fingers in and out of my still-slick core, teasing and titillating the needy bundle of nerve endings at the apex of my vulva, until the pressure that had dissipated starts building once more. I eagerly return to the fantasy of Jimmy in the shower, pick him right back up from where I left him, pumping his luscious dick. He’s going harder now, and faster, and I follow suit, rubbing and thrusting until everything inside me goes taut, like a guitar string pulled tight, on the verge of snapping. Except when I snap, it’ll be a good thing and will make sweet music, rather than ruining it.
I gasp and moan, my journey to the edge quicker and easier the second time around—but no less erotic. As I approach the precipice once more, I’m in two minds about whether to take the leap or back off again. There’s no limit to the number of times I can do this, but it won’t be long before my hands, wrists and arms get tired and begin to cramp, and I want to climax on a pure, unadulterated high of pleasure, not one mixed in with desperation and discomfort.
Fantasy-Jimmy looks as though he’s close, too. I decide I’ll try to come when he does. Jaw clenched, I work furiously between my legs as Jimmy strokes his meat, the tip red and swollen, precum glistening on his glans whenever I get a peep. I bite my lip, almost able to taste him on my tongue as he lets out a grunt and freezes. Milliseconds later he grunts again as his balls empty, jet after jet of spunk arcing out and landing on the tiled wall and the floor of the shower. The imagined sight doesn’t just push my buttons, it slams them with full force. Repeatedly.
With a cry, I plummet from the edge, almost swooning as pleasure assaults me, beginning in my core and bouncing out to my extremities like some sort of internal pinball machine. I curl my toes as my cunt clenches powerfully around my fingers, waves of bliss crashing into me, over and over, gradually becoming gentler, until I’m left contentedly basking in the afterglow of bliss.
Heat radiating from my cheeks and decolletage, I blow out a breath, drop my hands to my sides and sag into the mattress, taking a moment to recover before I figure out my next move. Right now, I’m not sure my legs will hold me up, so I’m staying precisely where I am.
After a while, some of my other bodily needs start to kick in, so I reluctantly roll out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. My baser requirements taken care of, I grab a clip and pull my long, dark hair into it, securing it out of the way before getting into the shower—which is sadly Jimmy-less. For a couple of minutes, I stand beneath the spray and luxuriate in the warm water, letting it run over my shoulders and back. Still sensitive from my masturbation session, I soap up and wash gently but thoroughly, before rinsing off and stepping out. I let my body air dry as I brush my teeth, then return to the bedroom, where I dress, slip into some light sandals, apply a little makeup and brush out my hair, leaving it loose and hanging down my back. Satisfied with my reflection in the mirror on the dressing table, I flash it a quick smile before leaving the sex-scented room behind and going in search of Jimmy.
I don’t find him in the house, so I head outside, the bitter scent of coffee giving a hint as to where he might be. I follow it to the tree and bush surrounded patio area. It’s a gorgeous place to spend time, all dappled with light but protected from the sun’s glare, and quiet, except for the occasional burst of birdsong. My stomach rumbles as I pad down the steps, where I spot him at the beautiful table, with its gorgeous carved edges and legs, looking handsome and relaxed in shorts and a shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Despite my recent orgasm, the mere sight of him gets me going again and I can’t help smiling. What can I say? We’re seriously hot for each other. And, of course, as scorching as Fantasy-Jimmy was, the real thing is a thousand times better.
Still smiling, I join him at the table, where he returns my grin and puts down his newspaper. We say good morning and exchange light, inconsequential chatter about how we slept as he pours me a cup of coffee and passes it over. He’s been busy, too—though possibly not in the same way I have—there’s not only coffee, but a nice spread of breakfast foods. He catches me eyeing it, then moves closer to me at the enormous table. I enjoy his proximity, the heat of his body, the scent of his fresh, spicy aftershave, as he snags a chunk of watermelon with his long, talented fingers and offers it to me. I part my lips and take an eager bite, then hum with delight as the juicy fruit releases its flavours over my tongue. We enjoy more watermelon together, as well as lots of sexy, meaningful eye contact, then I grab a huge, delicious-looking grape and pop it into my mouth as Jimmy gets to his feet, slips behind me and begins to massage my neck and shoulders.
I moan and close my eyes in bliss, my senses being assaulted yet again as Jimmy’s large, strong hands manipulate my flesh and my tastebuds are titillated by the flavour of the fruit. I chew and swallow, then give myself over entirely to his ministrations—and not a moment too soon.
A shiver wracks me as he eases my hair out of his way and begins to drop kisses on my neck. All the tiny hairs on my body stand on end as he brushes his lips over one of my most erogenous zones, his warm, coffee-scented breath only serving to stimulate me more. I love it. I love him, and I find my pussy growing wet once again as he kisses and gently nibbles that delicious spot just below my ear. I bite my lip in ecstasy.
Then he pulls away, and a little mewl of protest escapes me. As I’m about to ask if that was it, he scoots into the wicker chair opposite me. I take the opportunity to drink him in; he really is mouth-wateringly gorgeous—those beguiling blue eyes holding more than a hint of mischief, that cheeky, boyish smile. What’s not boyish is the considerable bulge in his tan shorts. I smirk, and more juices seep from my core at the mere thought of having him deep inside me, filling me, stretching me, making me blow my top.
But he teased me, so it’s only fair I get my own back, right? I slip off my sandals and ease my bare feet into his lap. Then, I zero in on that impressive bulge and begin to stroke it with my foot. Obviously my coordination isn’t as good with my feet as my hands, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to care, as his eyelids lower a tad and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. I rub harder, the hot, solid flesh beneath my toes and sole highly gratifying.
Without warning, Jimmy grabs my feet and begins stroking and massaging them. It’s so good, and while part of me would love for him to play with my feet forever and a day, another part of me is turned on as hell and eager to get a glimpse of his dick. I rein in my desires, though, force myself to take it slow as I lower my feet to the ground, stroke his thighs and eventually slip onto his lap. Like when I was playing with myself earlier, I remind myself we have all the time in the world. There’s no rush.
Our kisses are gentle, almost tentative—Jimmy is following my lead when it comes to pace, and we take our time as we explore each other’s mouths, faces, necks. Skin brushing, hair tickling, hands stroking, grasping, squeezing. Moans escaping. All the while, the thick, solid wedge of his cock is beneath me, burning hot even through his underwear and shorts, and the barely-there material of my G-string. I rock my hips slowly, grinding onto him, stimulating my swollen vulva and occasionally my clit. I’m so wet I could take him right now, despite his huge size.
As if reading my thoughts, Jimmy moves things along, sweeping the straps of my pretty ruffled dress off my shoulders and easing the lilac material to my waist, exposing my bare breasts and stiff nipples. Immediately, he goes for my naked flesh, kissing my chest and breasts, feasting on my teats. I continue grinding on him, throwing my head back and allowing the sensations to wash over me.
But I’m distracted by thoughts of the luscious cock beneath me. I have to see it, to hold it, to taste it. I disentangle from Jimmy’s embrace, slip to my knees in front of him—one of my very favourite places to be—and unbutton his shirt, tuck the sides out of the way so I can see his delicious abs as well as the heft in the crotch of his shorts. I palm his erection through his clothes, peering up at him through my eyelashes. He’s loving this as much as I am—maybe more. It’s clear from the increase in his breathing, the widening of his pupils, the slight flush in his usually pale cheeks.
Between us we make quick work of ditching his shorts. Ever considerate, he uses the brief pause in proceedings to snag a cushion from another chair and slip it under my knees. I melt. I’m so incredibly lucky to have this man who treasures me, cares for me, yet still makes me feel so amazingly sexy. I smile, stroke him through his boxers a little, before urging him to ditch those, too.
Eager to show him how much I treasure him, too, I curl my fingers around his huge length and girth, lick my lips and sink them onto his tip. It’s fat and swollen in my mouth, and the salty taste of his precum slicks over my tongue. Damn, it’s good. I want him inside me so badly I’m almost consumed by thoughts of it. But I won’t rush this. I refuse to rush this. Jimmy deserves to be taken care of thoroughly, to be worshipped, and I’m going to do exactly that.
I lick, suck, tease and tantalise him with plenty of eye-fucking along the way. His groans of pleasure and heavy breathing spur me on.
After a while, Jimmy leans down and pulls my face towards his for a kiss. It’s clear he wants more. I do, too, so when he hauls me into his lap, I go willingly. I’m wet and ready, and between us we shove my panties to the side and guide his cock inside me. I shudder and moan as I sink onto him, my slick internal walls stretching around him, sending sparks of ecstasy pinging through me.
It feels so good. Jimmy obviously thinks so, too, and we cling to each other, kissing as I begin to rock on his lap, slow at first as I adjust to his size, then faster. And harder. I’m so lost to lust, I’m barely aware of Jimmy guiding my dress over my head and getting rid of it, but I’m deliciously aware of the increased skin-to-skin contact once it’s gone.
The sensations are heady, and I’m disappearing into a fog of passion, rolling and bouncing on Jimmy’s shaft as I cling to him, rapidly heading once again for that cliff edge of climax. There’s no question of edging myself this time. I’m a slave to my own wants, and what I want, more than anything, is to come all over Jimmy’s luscious dick.
He senses the change in me, holds me tighter and yanks me onto him faster and harder, helping to push me over the edge with a powerful shudder and a cry. I spasm, moan, as dizzying waves of bliss crash through me and Jimmy murmurs encouragement and reassurance into my ear.
As my muscles eventually relax, I settle into the gorgeous feeling of afterglow, and enjoy gentle kisses with Jimmy, his rock-hard cock still lodged deep inside me. He hasn’t come, not even close—but I’m not worried.
We’ve got all the time in the world, after all.
The End
|
WANTON LUST