Wet Thrill: Face First

The rain hammered against the windows of our secluded mountain cabin, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my own heart. Greg had been gone for almost twelve hours, a lifetime in the silence of this place, and the anticipation was a tangible thing, clinging to the air like the scent of pine and damp earth. I’d spent the day lost in fantasies, each one more decadent and demanding than the last, fueled by loneliness and a desperate need for connection. Now, he was home, and the primal urge to lose myself in his touch was overwhelming.

He walked in, shedding the rain and the weariness of the day like a discarded coat. The scent of him, a blend of woodsmoke and cologne, filled the small space, instantly raising my temperature. He paused, taking in the scene before him – me standing in the shower, the water cascading around my body, my face flushed with arousal. I wasn't trying to hide it, not anymore. The dildo, a sleek, black pleasure device, lay discarded on the tiled floor beside me, a testament to the raw, uninhibited desire that consumed me. It felt almost shameful, this blatant display of lust, but the feeling was quickly overshadowed by the burning need to be touched, to be wanted.

“You were having fun,” he stated, his voice low and gravelly, a hint of amusement in his tone. He didn’t wait for an answer, simply stripping off his soaked clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the bed, and moving towards me with a predatory grace. The water ran down my back as I knelt, my muscles tensed, anticipating the inevitable. He reached out, his hand closing around my erect shaft, his thumb tracing circles, sending shivers through my core.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my skin. I didn't resist, allowing him to lift me slightly, giving him a better view. My breath caught in my throat as he gazed down at me, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. He took a step closer, his body heat radiating against mine, and then he began to push. Not gently, not playfully, but with a deliberate force that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned, my voice thick with sensation, as he increased the pressure, guiding the dildo deeper into my receptive cavity. The world narrowed, focusing solely on the intense pleasure, the rhythmic pulsing, the feeling of complete surrender. My muscles clenched, my breath came in ragged gasps, and I arched my back, desperate for release. When it finally came, it was a monumental explosion of ecstasy, a torrent of pleasure that left me weak and trembling. I went limp, my body collapsing into his arms, clinging to him as if afraid to let go.

Greg stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and delight. He didn't speak, simply watching me, savoring the aftermath of my release. Then, without a word, he undressed, stripping off his clothes with a speed that bordered on violent. He climbed onto the shower floor beside me, pulling me closer until our bodies were pressed together, the remnants of our shared pleasure mingling in the damp air.

“Give me a facial, please,” I managed to whisper, my voice still laced with pleasure, my body completely relaxed. It was an absurd request, a strange twist of intimacy, but it felt right, somehow, in this moment of intense connection.

He pushed in, holding my head firmly against his chest, and began to work his way across my face. His touch was demanding, insistent, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure through my skin. He pulled back, his lips brushing against my cheek, then returned to his task, exploring every inch of my face with a sensual intensity. I widened my lips, letting him take the lead, guiding his hand as he pushed his cock into my mouth, tightening them as he pulled his shaft outwards. It was a strange, almost perverse pleasure, but one that left me breathless and wanting more.

Then came the turning point, a shift in his demeanor that sent a jolt of electricity through my veins. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he uttered his familiar phrase, “Yes, yes, yes… NOW!” Before I could react, he pulled out and sprayed my face with a thick, glistening stream of cum. It cascaded over my cheeks, forehead, hair, and down my chest, coating me in a warm, salty liquid. I let it flow over my lips, dripping down my chin, clinging to my nipples. The sensation was overwhelming, both exhilarating and slightly repulsive, but I couldn’t pull away.

As the last squirts subsided, I licked and nibbled on his penis, tasting the remnants of his seed, savoring the lingering pleasure. It was a primal act, a return to instinct, a celebration of our shared lust. My finale was an act of bold defiance, a declaration of my dominance. I rubbed his cum all over my face, taking some in my mouth, and rubbing the last bit on my nipples, enjoying the sensation of his essence on my skin.

Finally, I pulled away, turning off the shower and stepping out into the cool air. As I dried myself with a towel, the scent of sex still clinging to my skin, I realized what I wanted to do next. I wanted to be taken missionary on the dining room table, but first, I needed to ensure he was fully loaded.

“Do you want to go for dinner?” he asked, his voice casual, seemingly oblivious to the earlier frenzy.

I hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment crossing my face. But the thought of what was to come, of the pleasure that awaited us, quickly overwhelmed any hesitation. “Yes, if you don’t mind me smelling like sex,” I replied, my voice a little breathless.

“Not at all. And oh, put on that yellow mini dress—no panties,” he instructed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Deal. Maybe if you fondle my pussy under the table at dinner, it will drive us so wild that…” I stopped, unable to articulate the unspoken desire that burned within me.

“What? Tell me,” he prompted, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“When we get back, I want you to screw me on the dining room table,” I finally blurted out, unable to contain myself any longer.

“It is a deal,” he said, his voice filled with a dangerous excitement.

As we made our way out of the cabin, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the tension between us remained palpable. “Hey!” I protested, noticing that he had chosen to wear only shorts and a T-shirt.

“Yeah, I know. Now let’s go, babe,” he replied, pulling me close, his hand resting on my hip. As we stepped out into the evening, the scent of pine and damp earth mingled with the lingering aroma of our shared passion, promising a night of unbridled pleasure. The rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of the day, leaving behind only the intoxicating promise of what was yet to come. The taste of his seed still lingered on my lips, a potent reminder of the raw desire that had brought us together, and I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was just the beginning.

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