Ruby's Lace, Naked Desire

The rain hammered against the windows of my apartment, mirroring the frantic rhythm in my chest. It wasn’t the weather that had me on edge, though; it was the memory, the one that always returned, sharp and insistent, like a brand seared onto my soul. Ruby. Just the name whispered a primal heat, a desperate longing that clawed its way up from my gut. And tonight, she was here, sprawled across my worn leather couch, a vision of exposed flesh and blatant invitation.

She was only partially clothed, a single, delicate white lace panty clinging to her hips, the rest of her body a sculpted landscape of sun-kissed skin. The way the light caught the curve of her breasts, the sheer, unadulterated size of them, sent a jolt of electricity through me. And then I saw it – her nipples, taut and pink, clearly erect, a silent testament to the simmering desire that thrummed beneath her skin. Had she been playing? Had another man violated her trust, leaving her vulnerable and desperate for my touch? The thought both horrified and thrilled me. Ruby was a woman who knew her own power, a mistress of pleasure who wouldn’t hesitate to indulge in her fantasies, regardless of whether I was part of the equation.

“Hey,” I said, my voice a low rumble, fighting to keep the tremor out. “What’s up? Looking particularly gorgeous tonight. You know, it's a blessing you’re here, because if anyone else saw this state you're in, they'd be hard-pressed to resist your allure.”

A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips, a sound that vibrated through me like a tuning fork. “You think you’re the only one, darling? You can have me anytime, but you’d better be quick about it. I might just find someone else to satisfy my needs if you dawdle.”

We'd always been like this, locked in a delicious, dangerous dance of teasing and anticipation. Ruby and I had pushed each other’s boundaries, explored the darkest corners of our desires, and embraced the messy, exhilarating chaos of our shared lust. We’d discovered that the true pleasure lay not just in the act itself, but in the build-up, the slow burn of anticipation, the shared transgression of our fantasies. We’d even dabbled in oral sex, a thrilling, degrading experience that left us both breathless and aching for more. But there were limits, of course. Anal play was something we approached with caution, a forbidden pleasure tempered by her concerns about cleanliness and potential infection. Still, the thought of losing control, of succumbing to the raw, animalistic instinct that pulsed beneath our skin, was undeniably intoxicating.

“Let’s not waste any time then,” I said, stripping off my shirt, the cool cotton clinging to my damp skin. As I moved towards her, my eyes locked on hers, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. The scent of her perfume, a heady blend of musk and vanilla, filled my senses, further igniting the fire within me.

I knelt before her, my hands gently lifting the hem of her panty, exposing her pale, slender thighs. As I leaned in, my lips brushed against her sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. Then, without hesitation, I inserted my erect penis into her mouth, the cool, moist flesh a welcome sensation against my eager flesh.

She gasped, a surprised sound, and began to suck, a slow, deliberate rhythm that built anticipation in my veins. Her hands clenched around my shaft, pulling me closer, deeper. She worked her way up, her tongue tracing the ridges of my head, teasing and tantalizing. I struggled against her grip, fighting to maintain control, while simultaneously surrendering to the exquisite pleasure of her touch. She pulled back suddenly, a choked sound escaping her lips, but her eyes blazed with a desperate need. "It’s so hard not to gag, but wow, you drive me wild! Do it again!"

The thought of denying her this pleasure was unbearable. I took her cock back into my mouth, pulling it deep into her throat. The sight of my shaft disappearing into her depths was both shocking and deeply satisfying. She thrashed, kicking her legs against the couch, her body writhing in response to the intense sensations. She choked and sputtered, her face turning red, but her grip remained firm, her desire unwavering.

“That was beautiful,” she managed to gasp, pulling away to speak again. “We have to go so slow… but we should train this deep-throat technique so that I can have the maximum pleasure of your cock!” Then, she grabbed me, pulling me down towards her, demanding, "Now fuck me!"

The urgency in her voice, the primal command, startled me. It wasn't something she usually said. It was a signal, a declaration of her unrestrained desire, a blatant invitation to lose all control. I nodded, a primal instinct taking over.

I ripped off her lace panty, revealing her vulva in all its glory. Then, without a moment's hesitation, I thrust my penis into her swollen opening, and with a surge of desperate energy, began to ride her hard and fast. She bucked and twisted, her muscles straining, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her legs kicked upwards, pushing her hips higher, her knees squishing her breasts against my body.

Suddenly, a primal scream ripped from her throat, "I’M CUMMING!!!" She let go completely, surrendering to the torrent of pleasure that flooded her system. Her body convulsed, her muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythmic, ecstatic dance.

At the same time, my own cock erupted, a volcanic explosion of pleasure that sent shivers down my spine. I let out a guttural moan, releasing my first spurt into her, then pulled out to release the rest of my cum in her mouth. She eagerly swallowed, her eyes closed in bliss. We continued to ride her, our bodies intertwined, lost in the throes of our shared passion.

Finally, exhausted and spent, we collapsed back onto the couch, entangled in a tangled mess of limbs and discarded clothing. We lay there in silence, covered in a sticky film of sweat and cum, a testament to the raw, unbridled pleasure we had just experienced.

As we released our embrace, an idea sparked in my mind. Let’s not clean up. Let's embrace the chaos, the mess, the sheer indulgence of our encounter. We got dressed in our clothes, leaving the sticky residue behind, and headed out for dinner, still feeling the lingering heat of our shared passion. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, we were warm, satisfied, and utterly, gloriously dirty.

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