Wanting [Str8 MF Cunnilingus]

We reach her door at half-past midnight after a slow and meandering walk through the park’s dappled darkness, up and down streets that led nowhere in particular. Nowhere but here. Side-by-side, talking and giggling, bumping into one another, teasing and shooting knowing glances. All the while, I’d watched the scattered moonlight stroke the edge of her jaw, the long curve of her neck, and I burned with jealousy.

But now we’re here. It drizzled tonight, leaving patches of cold wetness on the street and a glistening sheen on the gray stone of her stairwell. The spring wind rises and flutters in her hair, making the ends dance along her shoulder. She looks up at me with eyes like glaciers at sunrise, and I smile queerly. She bites her too-full lip, glances shyly to the side, and says, “So…”

It’s a question and an announcement. A deflection of what we’re both probably thinking and feeling. Caught in the sudden gust of uncertainty, she sways gently to the side.

“So,” I echo.

“This is me,” she adds near whisper, glancing over her shoulder at the door as if that weren’t obvious.

We’re a foot away from each other. Close enough to smell the flowery perfume rising from her flushed skin, and the warm tones concealed beneath. It’s the smell of a warm-blooded animal, and it burns in my nostrils like a signal flare.

Something is growling inside me, and my pulse is hammering at my skull.

Her eyes lock onto mine and tighten. They ask the same question as before, but rephrased. *Well, are you going to?*

I answer. One step forward, as my arm circles and cinches into her lower back. My other hand brushes the hair from her face as I approach. My nose grazes hers, our breath mixes in swirling eddies, and our lips meet for the first time.

Soft and slow. Probing. Learning. It’s an improvised dance, both of us testing the other’s steps. Her lips part a fraction of an inch, and I taste her… lip gloss, saliva, hot air fresh from her lungs.

The growl simmering inside of me rises up, shakes my chest and rattles my throat. My tongue dips inside, glances across her teeth and finds her own. Just a flash and then it’s over. I break away but my arms remain around her, feeling the warmth growing inside her long coat. Still so close that her hungry exhalation sounds like a storm wind.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes,” I whisper.

She doesn’t waste a beat; just steps and pivots. Shaking hands wrestle with jingling keys, and one of them bounces off the lock a few times before finally rattling its way in. The handle turns, the door cracks open, and I pursue.

We slide into the shadows of her apartment, my hands finding holds in soft depressions between muscle and bone. Stepping, stumbling, my mouth hungrily attacks hers, veers off and explores the silken skin beneath her chin and down her throat.

Through my lips, I feel her heart punching at her jugular. I smell the animal scent I’m so hungry for, and that needful growl once again rumbles in my chest.

Never breaking, never parting, I shrug off my jacket and it falls to the floor. Her fingers claw at my shirt, pull it up and over while I race through the large buttons of her coat. My belt-buckle rings out just as I’m unbuttoning her blouse, and my greedy hands knead the flesh along her ribs before my pants are even off. In another second, there’s nothing left of our clothing, leaving only the first contact of skin on skin.

Another two steps back and we tumble over the edge of her couch, collapsing together into its groaning springs. Street lamps peek through the blinds, their scarce light leaving only feeling, taste, smell?—?this terrible heat crackling everywhere we touch.

One of her legs kicks out, wraps around me and pulls me closer. I want her so badly. I want. I fucking hunger… but I resist.

“Not yet,” I whisper, my lips brushing the flexed muscles of her jaw. “I want to make you cum.”

She drops into slow-motion and I can sense the confusion trickling along her arms and hands, flickering in her fingertips. It doesn’t matter. I kiss her again, and she whimpers into my mouth.

Then I press at her shoulders and she sinks back, biting tenderly, longingly at my lip as I drift away from her. I temper my need because I want this more. Because this is the only hunger that matters, and it consumes me.

My kisses land on her throat again while my hands find the inside of her biceps, her armpits, and the tender landscape along her ribs… every smooth and unexplored region where touch is foreign and surprising. My mouth ventures further down, pressing and caressing beneath her swollen breast, along the curve of her stomach, and down the length of her abdomen.

With my hands on her hipbones and my face down below her navel, I can feel apprehension quaking inside of her. The hint of shame and worry. The surge of self-consciousness that makes her squirm.

I slow to a crawl. Calm, methodical, and insistent, I descend further while every touch between us burns with electric fire. I listen for her breathing and feel the undulating rise and fall of her stomach, making note of which touches interrupt her rhythm, revealing hotspots even she doesn’t know about.

…until her apprehension melts away. With instinctive animal need, her pelvis pushes forward, her smooth legs part and slide across my arms, while I nuzzle gently against her soft pubic hair. The rich scent of her fills my nose, and I breathe it in, stoking my desire. My clawing hunger.

It takes everything I have to keep control of myself, but I manage somehow. I’m not done teasing. Not done building this fire inside her.

One kiss after another taunts the inside of her thighs, my hands finding more sensitive spots at the crease between ass and leg, then the hollow of her knee. My every sense is overloaded with her as I trace closer and closer, and then I’m there.

My tongue traces along her lips, reaches the hooded crest and flicks once across her clit. She jumps involuntarily while the taste of her fills my mouth, and for just an instant, that taste is my entire world. It blots out everything, leaving only the growl… and I need more.

I need.

Need.

I open my mouth and engulf her, my tongue writhing against the folds and fragile edges of her pussy. I slip inside, seeking more of her… aching to sate the hollow hunger that’s only deepened since I first laid eyes on her. With each motion, I feel her quiver and hear her tremulous voice, the tiny sounds coming unbidden and skating along her throat.

She’s sopping wet now, and I slide two fingers into her depths. Voraciously licking and sucking at the same time, I begin to work my fingers in and out… in with a firm thrust, and slowly back out.

She moans and my self-control is lost. All that remains is the animal, thrusting harder and harder, lapping up every drop of her to quench its thirst. She begins to howl and I feel the tension building in her legs… in the way she grinds against my face… in the way she gasps for air whenever my tongue swirls around her stiffened clit.

She’s getting close. I pull my mouth away while my fingers continue their work, and in a throaty voice I say, “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” she sucks for air. “Don’t stop. I want you. I want you.”

She can barely form words, she’s so close now.

I give another teasing lick and say, “No… what do you want right now? Tell me.”

She groans through gritted teeth. Is there anything left inside of her but desire? Her naked, bestial need for this one pure thing?

“I want… to cum.”

And with that, I dive back in and devour her. Muscles in my wrist strain as I drive inside again and again, into stifling heat like a forest fire. Her hips flex, her stomach draws tight, and she freezes in place. She was a blaze just a second ago, but suddenly becomes an ice sculpture, frozen there in a moment of pure elation.

She cries out and I thrust inside one last time. I hold tight while she convulses against me, her ecstasy threatening to burn me to ash.

Then it’s done.

Covered in sweat, her exhausted body goes slack, a ragdoll left limply draped across the couch. She’s panting, struggling to catch her breath, then settles into perfect silence.

I give the outside of her hip one last loving stroke, then stand up shakily. I’m drunk on her but there’s strength left in me, and what’s gone is returning fast.

I stretch out above her, find her face in the shadows and plant a kiss. I want her to taste this… the peak of her need still soaked into every corner of my mouth. She kisses me weakly back.

Then I take her hand, and against her tired protestations, lift her up. I cradle her in my arms and carry her back to the bedroom, where we sleep until the morning’s amber light.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/52suj5/wanting_str8_mf_cunnilingus