Lost in Your Embrace

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the opulent living room, my fingers danced between my lower lips, teasing a desperate need for your attention. How will you claim me this evening? Perhaps you’d notice the subtle arousal radiating from my skin as I greeted you, a silent testament to my impatience for your pleasure. When you finally arrived, you swept me up effortlessly, kicking your boots against the plush carpeting as you carried me to the corner of the plush, velvet couch. You settled me into the deep cushions, drawing your chair close, your presence radiating an undeniable heat. “Show me,” you commanded, your eyes flashing with anticipation as I considered your request. Your hand reached out, spreading my knees, and you settled into your chair, a knowing smile splitting your face. “Show me.”

A shiver wracked my body, the proximity of your hot form sending waves of nervous excitement through me. Despite the distance between us, my passions were already ignited by the anticipation of your touch. Lost in the depths of your deep denim eyes, electrified by the fires that burned within them, I realized I could indulge my desires on my own, for now. I looked into your eyes, a silent invitation, and you responded with a slow, deliberate lick of your lips, mirroring my own action. Then, drawing two fingers into my mouth, I began a playful assault, slathering my tongue around them as a poor replacement for your manhood. I lapped and slurped, coaxing them to become wet, and as you adjusted your jeans, I pressed them deep into my throat, seeking a deeper connection.

My fingers traced a path from my mouth to the delicate curve of my neck, dipping in to lightly trace the crest of my breasts. My eyes locked onto yours, but you remained vigilant, never losing track of my fingers as they danced along the top of my strapless bra. I began molding the fleshiness, bouncing it with playful abandon while my other hand continued its exploration, applying the same sensual treatment.

With a sudden surge of boldness, I tugged at the bottom of my bra, feeling the lightness as my breasts freed themselves, suspended only by the thin cotton tank top above. As both hands moved beneath the tank top, I tickled up my stomach, then delicately raked my nails along the bottoms of my areoles. A gasp escaped my lips as I grazed my nipples during one of these passes, my breath hitching in my throat.

Giving up all pretense of restraint, I was ready to unleash the full force of my desire. Grasping the elongating tips between my thumbs and forefingers, I pinched-release-pinch-release-pinch, trying not to hyperventilate as my breath caught in rhythm. My hands, seeking refuge from the heat, returned to my mouth, licking and lapping to stimulate my clit. My eyes remained glued to yours, as you adjusted your jeans, and I pushed them deep into my throat.

My fingers struggled against the button on my jeans, pleading for your assistance as you effortlessly unbuttoned your pants, revealing the length of your erection. My jeans crumpled to the floor, and I moaned as the lightning bolts from my tit tugging jolt to my pussy.

You drew closer, one hand slowly maneuvering itself through the now-open jeans, while your other hand gently drew my legs apart. My panties, thin and translucent, offered little resistance, and you seemed to relish in my vulnerability. With my fingers in a v-shape, I lightly traced the inside of my thighs over the damp fabric, moving from thighs to lips, crease, clit. A shudder rolled through my body as I landed at my bud, and I was impatient for release. My head dropped back as I released my grip, letting my urgent hands take over.

I was panting, pushing, pulsing as I climbed the peak of passion, but FINALLY, your patience broke. You ripped my hand from my crotch, and it found its way to your hair as you replaced my fingers with your urgent tongue. I pulled your head closer, deeper into my center, desperate for the intimacy of your touch.

Knowing me better than I knew myself, you pulled my soaked panties to the side and pressed your finger into me as you resumed tracing and lapping at my clit. My hand left your hair and returned to the cotton tank top, pulling, stretching, and torturing my tits. The other hand descended.

I struggled one-handed with the button on my jeans, looking pleadingly to you, noting your evident ability to unbutton pants as your member now breathed free while you watched my production. With my hand still tugging my nipples, I whined and pushed my pelvis toward you, rewarded by a quick pop as you undo the button and yank down the waistband. My jeans crumbled to the floor, and I moaned as the lightning bolts from my tit tugging jolt to my pussy.

You were closer now, one hand slowly manipulating yourself through opened jeans, the other drawing my legs apart. My panties were translucent from how prepared I’ve become to take you, but you annoyingly remained seated and urged me onward. So, with my fingers in a v-shape, I lightly traced the inside of my thighs over the damp fabric. Back and forth, my fingers danced forward and back, narrowing with each pass from thighs to lips, crease, clit. A shudder rolled through my body as I landed at my bud, and I was impatient for release. I began thrumming my clit, and my head dropped back at the potent power of my urgent hands.

I was panting, pushing, pulsing as I climbed the passion, but FINALLY, your patience was gone. You ripped my hand from my crotch, and it found your hair as you replaced my fingers with your urgent tongue. I pulled your head closer, deeper to my center. I was desperate for your cock, but I’d take any penetration I could get.

Knowing me better than I knew myself, you pulled my soaked panties to the side and pressed your finger into me as you resumed tracing and lapping at my clit. My hand left your hair and returned to the cotton tank top, pulling, stretching, and torturing my tits. The other hand descended.

I struggled one-handed with the button on my jeans and looked pleadingly to you, noting your evident ability to unbutton pants as your member now breathed free while you watched my production. With my hand still tugging my nipples, I whined and pushed my pelvis toward you, rewarded by a quick pop as you undo the button and yank down the waistband. My jeans crumbled to the floor, and I moaned as the lightning bolts from my tit tugging jolt to my pussy.

You were closer now, one hand slowly maneuvering itself through opened jeans, the other drawing my legs apart. My panties were translucent from how prepared I’ve become to take you, but you annoyingly remained seated and urged me onward. So, with my fingers in a v-shape, I lightly traced the inside of my thighs over the damp fabric. Back and forth, my fingers danced forward and back, narrowing with each pass from thighs to lips, crease, clit. A shudder rolled through my body as I landed at my bud, and I was impatient for release. I began thrumming my clit, and my head dropped back at the potent power of my urgent hands.

I was panting, pushing, pulsing as I climbed the peak of passion, but FINALLY, your patience broke. You ripped my hand from my crotch, and it found its way to your hair as you replaced my fingers with your urgent tongue. I pulled your head closer, deeper into my center, desperate for the intimacy of your touch.

Knowing me better than I knew myself, you pulled my soaked panties to the side and pressed your finger into me as you resumed tracing and lapping at my clit. My hand left your hair and returned to the cotton tank top, pulling, stretching, and torturing my tits. The other hand descended.

As I struggled to maintain control, you took the initiative, grabbing my wrists in one hand and holding them to the wall as your other hand flipped me over, positioning me face down on the arm of the couch. My naked form, exposed and vulnerable, awaited your ravishment. I needed no patience as your tongue quickly found me again. I strained against the hand still clasping my wrists as I felt your warm tongue and rough beard trail from my clit up my slit to my pucker and back down again. I humped against your face as you buried your chin in my crease and lapped at my hot hole.

I was desperate to be satiated, yet you pulled back every time I neared the edge. Hopelessly pursuing release, I strained to lower my knee so I could rub against the couch. An echoing slap across my rear and your firm hands on my hips quelled those efforts, and I panting in anticipation.

Now free, my hands lowered and sought behind me. I wanted your dick; I needed your dick. Instead, all I could catch was the fabric of your jeans, reminding me that my naked form was being tormented while you remained fully clothed. The power dynamic was not lost on you as you continued to lap at my pussy and dodge my attempts to draw you in.

Your arm pressed down on my back as your other hand twiddled my clit. Your strength kept me stationary despite my writhing and pleas. “B, I’ve waited all day for you. Why won’t you just connect already?”

I felt your face pull back, and your hands both found my shoulders. “Did you actually wait?” you drawled in my ear, drawing out a confession as your hips pushed against mine. “Yes, of course I did,” I whimper, trying to grind against your rod. “But I wanted you to have you as soon as I could.”

“But you didn’t want to give me a show?” you tsk, then a chuckle softened the admonishment. “Never be afraid to admit your passion. Never think that your excitement and slow build are things I dread.”

Your words should bring comfort, but I’m as rigid as can be, still folded onto the back of the couch as you flick and tug my suspended breasts, holding me in place with your body. If more is said, I don’t hear it because the slow build is coming back. I feel heat rising as your fingers taunt me. My pussy aches to be filled.

“Please,” I whimper and sneak a hand to my clit. “I’ll perform for you if you’ll just give me release.”

“Not for me,” you said, your voice laced with amusement, “but for us.” You grabbed my wrists in one hand and held them to the wall as your other hand flipped me and pushed my leg onto the arm of the couch. Now I’m naked, sprawled, and desperately awaiting your ravishment. I need no patience as your tongue quickly found me again. I strained against the hand still clasping my wrists as I felt your warm tongue and rough beard trail from my clit up my slit to my pucker and back down again. I humped against your face as you buried your chin in my crease and lapped at my hot hole.

I was desperate to be satiated, yet you pulled back every time I neared the edge. Hopelessly pursuing release, I strained to lower my knee so I could rub against the couch. An echoing slap across my rear and your firm hands on my hips quelled those efforts, and I panting in anticipation.

Now free, my hands lowered and sought behind me. I wanted your dick; I needed your dick. Instead, all I could catch was the fabric of your jeans, reminding me that my naked form was being tormented while you remained fully clothed. The power dynamic was not lost on you as you continued to lap at my pussy and dodge my attempts to draw you in.

Your arm pressed down on my back as your other hand twiddled my clit. Your strength kept me stationary despite my writhing and pleas. “B, I’ve waited all day for you. Why won’t you just connect already?”

I felt your face pull back, and your hands both found my shoulders. “Did you actually wait?” you drawled in my ear, drawing out a confession as your hips pushed against mine. “Yes, of course I did,” I whimper, trying to grind against your rod. “But I wanted you to have you as soon as I could.”

“But you didn’t want to give me a show?” you tsk, then a chuckle softened the admonishment. “Never be afraid to admit your passion. Never think that your excitement and slow build are things I dread.”

Your words should bring comfort, but I’m as rigid as can be, still folded onto the back of the couch as you flick and tug my suspended breasts, holding me in place with your body. If more is said, I don’t hear it because the slow build is coming back. I feel heat rising as your fingers taunt me. My pussy aches to be filled.

“Please,” I whimper and sneak a hand to my clit. “I’ll perform for you if you’ll just give me release.”

“Not for me,” you said, your voice laced with amusement, “but for us.” You grabbed my wrists in one hand and held them to the wall as your other hand flipped me and pushed my leg onto the arm of the couch. Now I’m naked, sprawled, and desperately awaiting your ravishment. I need no patience as your tongue quickly found me again. I strained against the hand still clasping my wrists as I felt your warm tongue and rough beard trail from my clit up my slit to my pucker and back down again. I humped against your face as you buried your chin in my crease and lapped at my hot hole.

As I eased off a high, my submissive side sought to spoil you. Between thrusts, I asked, “My love, can I give us more joy?”

The intensity of pounding thrusts wavered, and I took the opportunity to push myself to the floor. Kneeling at your feet, I grabbed your denim-clad hips and pulled your soaked cock into my mouth. I lapped and sucked, doing all your favorites, and your pants and moans matched mine. With all the build-up, it wasn’t long before you erupted in my throat, surrendering your seed and uniting us with another “first” as I swallowed. My mouth cleans you off, and you tuck your member away as I revel in my wanton nakedness.

Will you take me like that tonight?

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