The Sweet Response [MF] [oral]

She rubs sleep from her eyes. What was that noise? Looks around. Fuzzy shapes coming into focus. Scans. Stops. Him. Finally. His days are long, but he always finds her when he gets home. Always has time for her. In a flash, an instant, a moment he’s there. With her. Wrapped around her. Entwined in her person, ensnared in her soul. She feels strong arms encircle her. Pull her in. Closer. She’s awake now. The last grains of sleep sand gone from her eyes. He has that effect on her. She can’t help it. Not when he…does that. Kisses rain down, passionate hailstones in a lustful blizzard. Her lips. Her cheeks. The tip of her nose. The nape of her neck.

He pulls back. Stops. She hears anticipation in his shallow breaths right by her ear. He speaks. Softly. Commandingly. His lips dance against her ear around every word. Are. You. Ready.

A gentle hand appears under her chin, softly tilting her head, guiding her eyes to meet his. Pristine pools of lust over wells of passion. His hand moves. Slowly. Carefully. Pushing the hair back over her ear. It lingers there. Thumb in front of her ear, fingers curling around to cup her neck. A light embrace, but firm. Possessive. In a single movement she is drawn in. That hand still confidently placed just so. The other now on her hip. Both pulling her closer. And so her lips meet. It was a kiss the likes of which you only read about in romanticized fairy tales and wistful teen diaries. But a kiss it was. A long, deep, soul exchanging kiss from which there was no escape nor any such desire to do so. And then she feels his hands move. Without ever breaking the sanctity of that kiss those hands explore. Strong. Sure. Everywhere. From her shoulders to her chest (resting just over the sensitive skin that cloaks the ribs, thumb and forefinger making a cradle for each supple breast, flirting but not so presumptuous to take each in hand) to her hips to the callipygian crease atop her legs; always moving. Always lulling her closer. Never losing the kiss.

It has been too long since he has kissed soft lips…of either variety. He reminisces in the memory of the sweet response. The satisfying way a woman’s core tenses from her diaphragm down to deep between her hips and the violent relaxation that follows in rhythm. Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax. And then with more urgency as her corporeal need builds. Tense.Release. Tense.Release. Tense.Release. TenseRelease. TenseRelease. TenseRelease. TenseTenseTense. Collapse.

He relished the fortuity that allowed him to realize that memory for her. She knew his thoughts even as he formed them, read his expressions as easily as the Sunday paper. She leaned back, laid down, invited him to gratify them both. From the top of her head he left a trail of kisses as he methodically worked his way towards her womanhood. He paused at base of her neck, around the collar of the T-shirt she had worn to bed that night. It was one of his. Endearing. He would let her keep it, but in the moment it needed to be reclaimed. Or rather, removed. His hands slid under her hips, caught the bottom edge of the shirt and dragged it along as his fingers massaged their way up her sides. Her raised arms acquiesced to his intentions as he smoothly pulled the garment over her head and away from her stirring body. He took a moment to appreciate her stark form, highlighted by moonbeams against opaque sheets. The look she gave him questioned his hesitation. He answered by finding the trail where he had left it, moving ever closer to where they both wanted him to be.

He took his time, lingering just long enough on each kiss to build anticipation, not quite long enough to frustrate. After her own personal eternity he did finally arrive at his licentious destination and there he paused again. She braced her legs, lifted her hips, imploring him to help her away with that final, most intimate vestment. So he did. And so the soft beginning. The kiss of lips to lips. The shy tongue begging permission. Caressing the natural crevice. Smooth. Hot. Slick.

A careful, playful flick of that tongue on her clit and she is suddenly awake, aware, awash in desire. More. She shifts her hips pressing back reciprocally against the pleasure, leaning into the ecstasy. She grabs a handful of his hair, wraps her legs around his shoulders and holds on for the ride.

Her breathing grows labored as she tries to maintain composure. A futile, but endearing effort. From her core a radiant pleasure is emanating. And then stops. Her breath catches in her chest now, disappointed, confused. She looks and sees the disappearing glint of a devilish, mischievous grin. Her body is hollow where his tongue used to be, the desire still permeates her every fiber. And then soft kisses down the inside of her left thigh. One. Two. Three. A true tease. One two three quick kisses back to her aching center. One single peck, only the slightest suction at all, on that exposed lotus of pleasure and those lovely lips are gone again. One two three down the inside of her right thigh. One two three back up. And then a pause. Her need is building. Suffering from pleasure, a moan of desire slips out of her throat and as if on cue so returns that beautiful mouth. Hungrier now. Ravenous. Animalistic. Perfectly balanced aggression and romance.

She recognizes the feeling. Rhythmic waves. A ripple’s inverse, starting weakly and growing stronger. She feels her core begin to tighten in anticipation. She tries to hold out, to endure the thrill for as long as possible. But she cannot. She surrenders to the throes of passion, her body wracked with elation, every muscle tensed as euphoria washes over her. And then it all falls apart. She sinks completely into the mattress, wholly and utterly spent and aware of that same hollow deep inside her, this time aching in satisfaction.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2j6a42/the_sweet_response_mf_oral