Tense, twisting, yanking pull. Your wrists trapped in sportsheets and your arms with enough leeway that your biceps flex and your elbows flash from your tugs, all as your fingers pantomime and ball into fists. Hot sweat drips, breathless shudders from your lips, all as my oiled hands move up from the pelvic line, across your ribcage, finding a home at your breasts. I'm going to stay here for a while, careful kneads above and underneath, my thumbs circling and swirling across your nipples, hard as diamonds, yet so, so sensitive that just the faintest of touch causes your head to dig into your pillow, almost jostling your blindfold out of place.
It was dinner and you were in that black dress and those pumps and we had to maintain composure but your fingertips were tracing along my inner thighs underneath the table and your nylon covered toes snaked up my pant cuff and you were smiling and giggling and making sure my attention was on you, only you, and I couldn't help myself, you knew I couldn't help myself, and that's when your thumb circled around my bulge, right across my head, through all that fabric and you weren't stopping until you saw me break and you unzip and…you…you…temptress…as I am biting my lips and the freeze in my shoulders and my fists are balling up in napkins and silverware and you coo in ear as my pulse throbs in my ears and my lust is leaking all across my boxers and right then, then, THEN DAMMIT! DAMMIT! You stopped! Why did you stop?!
Why?
Please?
Please……
One nylon off and the other left on. I watch as your toes flex and curl as the strength of my thumbs finds that spot just before the ball of your foot, along the bow of your arch, and I'm staying right here. Or maybe not. Maybe this massage has gone on long enough. Your skin, pebbled with gooseflesh, and your whines that it's too much, you're too sensitive, please, oh please, and I see the wet spot growing across the sheets between your legs and you can't close your legs as I crawl inside your guard.
Pressed against the wall, wrists trapped in my grasp, pinned and pulled back so your elbows were pointed skyward and your triceps framed your face and my lips were at the nape of your neck, and it didn't matter who saw, who watched. Let them. The fragrance of your skin, the taunting tease, and you have my head swimming and my lips inches from your ear and I tell you I want you, I want you, I want you so Goddamn bad and you coo back in impossible sultry notes is that so? Show me. Show me, you say, eyes half mast and lips locking and we're both already hot, dripping messes.
I opened my mouth and I let the heat sweep across you and you burned pink and my tongue was mere inches away and you could sense that, I knew from each tensing of the tendons of your inner thighs, with each simple move forward, trapped in binds, whining, both of us drowning in it. My tongue caresses, playing with you, your petals in hot, sweltering bloom, fresh, and when I open my eyes to look across the oil and sweat sheen of your body, I see the shudder in your chest and the biting of your lips and it almost seems like you're trying to fan yourself with your hands as they move about, not knowing what to do. A deep suckle, my lips supple in their vibrations, and my tongue strumming across and along your part, curling come hither, the edge, the slightest little edge, and I can feel all that tension pool and I can hear the suddenness in your moans and that's when I stop.
I imagine you're seeing stars, and the words can't come out as you lay there, hips moving, backside grinding, and your whine and you can't handle it anymore.
But you will.
You want me, huh? Show me. You said it again. Said it as the rain pelted down across us, cool in the night time mug. Your look was mischievous, and you knew what those words meant and you didn't care, and I could feel it deep in my bones and through my teeth and I couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate. How can you do this to me? I'm falling to fucking pieces here and it's so unfair for you to control all the cards on the table.
A feather can be a dangerous thing. Soft where it needs to be, but oh so cutting if you know how to wield it. A pair of them, colored crimson, almost as deep and rich as your throbbing cunt, your lips lacquered in dripping lust, and you can't even formulate words anymore as the blades of my feathers have you Icarus, giggling, moaning, cackling, begging, as they brush along your swell, sawing across both pouty lips, drawing you flexing, pulsing, thrusting as edge number four ends and you're panting and shaking your head back and forth and you can't take it anymore, breathless, stammering, anything, you shout, you'll give me anything, just please, please, anything please!
Maybe those feathers didn't go away. Maybe I picked them back up, and you're all bound up, and you're not going anywhere as those feathers continue their sweep, up and down those outer labia lips, all that sensation, building and building, supple caresses and tendrils brushing through and hitting that impossible crest and as I see the quickening, as I see your toes dig in and your entire body tighten, I keep going, and that's when it hits. That's when you cum for me, all over yourself, twitching, flexing, everything, and your moan comes from deep and now, now I have you right where I want you.
Driving home was an autopilot situation, and I don't know how it could be but it was taking forever as your hands wandered across me, tempting me, taunting me. What's gotten into you tonight? I don't know, and I don't care, but your hands are inside my pants and you are driving me crazy with each goddamn caress and please…when will this…I can't…you giggle at me, telling me to keep my eyes on the road, and I can't, I can't!
You couldn't keep your eroscillator hidden forever, you know? All those heads, all those little buzzes. I circle it around your lips, teasing it up and down, those impossible touches rolling across silk, and you're a mess, a total, gibbering mess as my fine tipped make up brush tickles just along the left flank, teasing down and up, and that's when I find it, the head of your clit, and I know just what to do with it.
The chopsticks were treated, gingerly applied, taped into place, exposing that little pearl. “What are you–” but that's where you stop, and that's when my two little fine tipped paint brushes come out, touching across that one sensitive morsel, that ball of terrible ticklish nerve endings, and swirl, swirl, the fine bristles fully bathing that spot and my wrists and grip twirling them around until there is nothing you can do but cum for me, again and again, it's so sensitive and it's too damn much and it's too damn ticklish and when I drop one brush and pick up the eroscillator to touch against the chopsticks to send the vibrations throughout you, that's when it happens, in spite of it all, in spite of everything, that hot, steamy mess, that first full bolt hitting like a mad crescendo, color draining from your body and you begging me to quit, to never quit, as you burn me and you're so damn tender that you're laughing and begging and moaning and then there is another and another, every bit of you, lust and cum, burning me, hitting me, utterly wrecking and destroying me as binds get cut and you're pure putty and I can't contain myself anymore, burying you to the hilt, every bit of me, pressing and massaging through, and the relieved sigh you hit me with is almost as deadly as the grip you have. Every little bit of you and me, and you wanted me to show you how bad I wanted you, didn't you?
I can't stop and you pull me in, deeper, heavier. Through the thick hazy fog and I can't feel my hands and I have never felt closer to you and your weak hands draw me in for a sloppy kiss and it's perfect, so fucking perfect, and then, and then, AND THEN…I can't…stop…one, two, eight…TWELVE FUCKING BURSTS! More, you demand! It's too much! I can't feel my hands!
Everything is hot and jolted and it feels so wrong and right and I'm still there, still inside you, my addiction, my drug, my desire and my love, and if only you could see you through my eyes at this very moment.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/37v8cd/if_only_you_saw_yourself_through_my_eyes_mf_bd