Yours And Mine. [MF] [vanilla] [First Person]

I push myself away from you just enough to look down at your face. The feel of your lips still clings to mine. I run my tongue over them, savoring the taste. I slide my soft hands up your exposed chest and over your shoulders. I curl my fingers in your hair; it feels like silk against my lithe fingers. I smile at the wistful look on your face as your fingers grasp desperately at the skirt of my dress, exposing a few more inches of creamy skin. I can see the *want to* in your eyes. I know just how much you want to touch me; lay me down and taste my love. Any other night, I would let you. I would surrender to your charm, be yours until morning. But not tonight. Tonight, my pleasure can only be found in yours, and I will not be denied.

I lean into you again, brushing a whisper-light kiss against your lips—a wordless secret that tastes vaguely of coconut and a hint of something subtly sweet—familiar, yet unnameable. You press into me, hungry for another taste, but my lips have already moved on, yours only graze my cheek. My hands have not stopped playing in your hair as I draw my face along the line of your jaw, pausing to kiss clean-shaven skin. A single sweep of your thumbs against the supple skin of my thighs is enough to send a shiver through my body. I sit up, letting it roll down my spine, curving my chest out and gliding my hips slowly forward and back; proof of the prurience that colors my thoughts. A low sigh escapes your lips as you look up at me. I stare into your eyes. For a moment, I am cast adrift on the surface of a storm-tossed lake. I would be content to drown there.

I tilt my head, following your gaze. The tiny straps of my dress have slipped down my shoulders. With my bra and sweater having been thrown off with your shirt before we even reached your bedroom, there is nothing but thin cotton supporting the weight of my lush chest. The neckline rides a little further down with every movement. A hint of pink peeks over the hem; a tease for what lies beneath the taut fabric. That is where your eyes linger, tracing the edges of the multi-colored flowers that frame the raised silhouettes of perky little nipples.

I drag my polished purple fingernails lightly down your chest, bringing you back to the reality of me straddling your hips. You blink slowly up at me as if coming out of a daze. You part your lips like your about to confess something, but I press my finger to them and shake my head slowly.

“Don’t say anything yet.” My voice is barely above a whisper; more air than words. My fingertips trail down your sides. I paint my kiss down your chest and stomach in swirling smears of pale pink lipstick. I occasionally let my teeth graze the skin just so you’ll gasp, satisfying my need to drive you wild with desire. You entwine your fingers in my hair. I glance up at you from near the button of your jeans. Your eyes are closed, but your expression says everything; a hint of a smile broken by your teeth gently biting down on the tender skin of your lip. You release a breathy sigh. I feel it everywhere my body touches yours. I redouble my efforts; more pressure, more voracity. The way your body quivers as you breathe through the anticipation. The salt of your skin on my tongue. The feel of your hard, throbbing salacity pressing against my chest. Each of them thrills me in the most intoxicating way—a fervid desire that burns through me like a fever.

I kiss you one last time, leaving behind a small pink and vaguely purple bruise that will probably be gone before morning. I’ve marked you, claimed you as mine for just tonight.

I sit back on my knees and draw my fingers down; trading skin for denim. I run my hand over the bulge in your pants starting with the tips of my fingers near the base and moving until my palm strokes the still clothed shaft, and my fingers caress the head. Your hips raise a little, pushing into my touch, thrusting slowly into my hand. The simple motion is like wind blowing over the embers of a fledgling fire. When it ignites, the blaze will dazzle and consume us both.

You watch me with keen eyes from your position lounged back in the pillows. My eyes don’t leave yours while I unbutton your pants. I tug at the zipper, pulling so slowly that I can hear every pop as each tooth releases. You’ve been holding your breath, waiting for me to undress you, to feel my flushed skin slide against yours. You let it out slowly in a steady stream until the last of your clothes hit the floor. You inhale sharply when I push my dress the rest of the way down my chest and over my hips letting it drop to the floor. I look away feeling suddenly shy; it seems I can’t even accept a compliment with no words.

I climb back onto the bed, placing myself between your knees. I lean forward, running my hands up your thighs, flexing my slender fingers as I move—splaying and grasping them over muscle that I ache to kiss. I give in. I press my lips to the inside of your thigh, just above the knee, I let my tongue skate up to just below the groin. The taste of your skin is familiar now; the scent, stirring. Buried beneath the façade of slow, even breathing and a knowing smirk beats a rabid heart. The only hint of my desire lies in my eyes and the blue flame that sparks in their depths.

I start slow, gently teasing the skin—kissing, touching, nibbling everywhere except where you want me to. You squirm under my ministrations, shifting your hips in hopes that I will grace your rigid dick with a stroke or a kiss. I want nothing more than to have you in my thrall, but I know if I keep you waiting too long, your thirst will sour; turn to frustration and that, I cannot abide.

I relent, skimming my thumbs lightly over your balls before cupping them with one hand. You let out a quiet moan. I gingerly massage, passing them between nimble fingers, careful to keep the pressure at a soft constant, just enough to feel it. I wrap the fingers of my other hand around the base of your cock.

“Look at me.” Your eyes find my face, widening as my tongue makes contact with your pulsating member for the first time. Your gaze follows as I lick up the shaft in one broad stroke, closing my lips over the tip and sucking lightly before letting go. I’ve pulled my hair to one side to allow you to watch as I entertain every lustful thought that crosses my mind. My hand moves slowly. My wrist twists as I stroke from the root to the head at a languid pace. My lips move in time with my hand, my tongue swirls over the swollen head just before my fingers close over it. It’s warm and wet, but not quite sloppy. I vary my speed and depth, drawing pleasure from the way your head rolls in the pillows and your hands clench and relax in handfuls of sheets. Each breath is a stream of *Oh, fuck, Baby. God, your mouth—incredible…* sighing moans.

“I bet I taste good on you.” I release your testicles and push aside the lace of my panties to draw my fingers over my wet pussy, pulling back two fingers that glisten in the dim twilight seeping in through the open window. I rub them gently over and around the head before greedily lapping at it until I can no longer taste myself. You groan low in your throat. It is more like a primal growl that feeds my passion. “Mmmm, I love being right.” I wrap my lips around you again, pushing down a little further than I had been. Each time I pull back, I push down a little bit further, sucking a little harder on the backstroke. My hand never stops its slow twisting pattern. When my mouth reaches down to my hand, I release your cock and push all the way down until I have taken your length in completely and the tip presses against the back of my throat. Your hand pushes lightly against my head. I know what you want. I take quick shallow movements, allowing your cock to slide against the back of my throat. I watch your eyelashes flutter. I close my throat and gag a little for you before starting my slow ascent back to the tip. *Fuuuuck that’s good.*

I refocus my efforts on the upper third of your cock. My hand returns to caressing the shaft while my tongue works its magic. I flick it quickly over the crest at the underside before twirling it around a few times and running the stiff tip over the ridges on the front. I revel in every noise that escapes your lips. I close my lips again around your cock, sucking hard enough that I can feel it in my ears. My tongue never stops moving as my head bobs and my whole hand strokes. I press two fingers of my free hand to the small spot under your balls, running them in small circles, gradually increasing the pressure until I feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten without relaxing. I back off the intensity and bring you back down with just my hand.

I kiss up at you before pulling away and rising to my knees. Tilting my head back, I shake out my hair. I push my hands down my body, you look hungry as you appraise my assets. You watch my fingers disappear beneath black lace. I bite my lip and close my eyes while my fingers seek to give me a little release.

“No, take them off.” Your voice is low and rough, I blink slowly in response, letting the ardor of it settle around me. I heed your request, pushing my panties down over my thighs. As you sit up, I sit back and pull my feet out from under me. I toss the ball of damp lace at your chest; you catch it, inhaling deeply before you drop them onto the floor. I advance on you the moment they leave your fingers, wrapping my arms around you and pressing my blushing, burning skin against your body. I can’t stand the idea of not touching you any longer.

We fall back into the pillows, there is a little too much force in my kiss, my tongue is a little too insistent, but you don’t seem to mind. You push back against me; your desire matching mine. Your hands are finally on me, flowing over my curves, exploring, touching every inch of my skin that you can reach. My body reacts to your touch ravenously, as though I have been starved for contact. You push gently against my shoulder, bidding me to roll onto my back and let you take over. I resist but give in when you put a little more force behind it, allowing you to guide me down onto the sheets to be swallowed by your scent; shower clean with a hint of woodsmoke. The heady combination makes my breath catch. I cannot keep track of your hands, distracted by the feel of your mouth, which seems to draw ecstasy straight from my skin. You start with my neck, working down over my collarbone to my heavy breasts, your tongue running along the swell until your lips close around my nipple. I gasp, arching my body up as your fingers wend their way down my side and over my hip, drawing a simple filigree across sensitive flesh. I roll my hips. My body dances against yours.

You push your fingers down between my dewy lips, nothing but confidence to guide them. Even though they invite you in with the promise of blissful revelry, you hold back slightly as they stroke, drawing slow circles around my clit. They slide ever closer but are reluctant to touch. You are teasing, a shadow of what I inflicted on you when we began. You’ve touched me before. However, tonight is not like other nights. My hips sway against you again, my fingers curl in your hair. I moan softly in your ear, careful to control my volume. It is meant to provoke and entice you while I zealously wait for you to exact your desirous will from my body. But, I know the embers are not quite hot enough to blaze. My head rolls against the pillows. When you finally deign to touch me, you do it only for a moment before pulling your hand back.

“It’s my turn to taste.” I catch your wrist before you can touch your glossy finger to your tongue; I draw it over my lips. My thoughts stray to the pink pigment brushed across the canvas of your chest. It and the gentle breeze make my nipples tingle. You kiss me, lightly sucking the sticky moisture from my lips, biting at the delicate skin before running your tongue around the outline of my lips as if to ask for admittance. Your kiss is practiced, just enough pressure to convey longing, but not enough to feel desperate. You are generous with your tongue, using it to draw me in, entreating me to return your affections. I rub my warm thighs against your erection in response, a subtle reminder that I want you as much or perhaps, more than you want me. Your kiss deepens, the longing melting into something more assured, verging on forceful. I relish it. Your hands cup my breasts, squeezing them, rolling my nipples between your fingers. Your hardness presses against waiting, willing flesh, slick with anticipation. I shift just enough that the head slips between the folds. I pull my lips out of your grasp, exhaling a shaking breath. It earns me a smile and a small thrust forward, so you glide over my clit. I pull my shoulders back, lifting my chest. Your mouth curls into a smirk. I wrap my hand around the back of your neck and drag you back down to me, demanding another kiss. You indulge me, placing your hands on either side of my face. You run your thumbs over the apples of my cheeks, giving me several light kisses. It’s not enough, it will never be enough.

You push yourself away from me, fighting against my protesting lips and hands until you sit back on your heels and I lay before you. I watch your eyes sweep over me, again, taking in the unobstructed view of my body. I watch your eyes follow lines and curves. I assume that you are searching for my flaws, but your parted lips—corners turned up in a slight smile—give the impression that your eyes will find no fault in me. I close my eyes, waiting for the assessment to end. A firm hand closes around my ankle. It massages my calf and runs lightly up the back of my thigh. I sigh happily. I feel the silky skin of your cheek before your teeth bite at my skin. Your fingers dig into yielding flesh as your tongue caresses. I start to moan, writhing under the flick and swish of your tongue. Deliberate strokes ending in a gentle sucking. My chest rises and falls in quick panting breaths, my hands grasp at the sheets and knot themselves in your hair. My body seizes when two of your fingers dip into the tight opening between my thighs. You move slowly, drawing your fingers back and forth slowly in shallow strokes as your tongue continues to work. I can’t help but raise my hips in response, my breathing becoming more defined by the way you move—a little erotic melody of staccato breaths and ethereal sighs. Your fingers curl inside me, pressing on the muscle just behind the pelvic bone caressing in a motion that would beckon me forward, were I not already held in your grasp. Your free hand flutters over the crest of my hip and tickles my thigh. There is a little more weight to my voice now, a chorus of *Huhahaahaahaaaa’s* that steadily builds in volume. The sound of my fingernails scraping against the mattress, searching for more slack in the sheets is lost in the ecstatic descant. My stomach flutters. My skin is both hot and cold. My hips oscillate as I ride the waves of pleasure. I relax my grip on your hair. “Stop.” My voice sounds excited and husky in my ears. You react immediately, withdrawing your touch, leaving me cold and gasping at my own request.

“Are you al—” I cut you off, staring directly into your eyes as I back away from the edge of orgasm.

“C’mere.” I watch your lips curl into a smile both wicked and sweet. I sit up and meet you as you slink forward. Your lips are fire when they collide with mine. I take your face in my hands pulling you down with me. The weight of your body presses on me like the heat of a Summer fire—delicious. I inhale your smoke until I can’t breathe. I have to turn my head to catch my breath. You press the advantage, gently pulling one of my hands away from your face and kissing my palm before pinning it to the bed over my head. Your lips fall down my neck and over my chest in a cascade of kisses each one more ardent than the last. I hear a quiet chuckle.

“I adore the way your skin flushes when I touch you.” I hide my face against my outstretched arm in embarrassment, imagining the way splotchy pink skin looks in the dull orange glow. “Stop that, you’re gorgeous.” Your breath is hot against my ear, free hand tracing the curves under my breasts. I shiver and pull my face away from my arm. “That’s better.” You catch my lower lip between your teeth as you kiss me, biting gently until I open up to you once more. I twist my fingers back into your hair. Your pulse beats quick and light against the heel of my hand. You toy with my tongue, asking me to let you show me how you move. My legs move over your skin, wrapping firmly around you to hold you and implore you to satiate my need to touch and be touched tonight.

Your mouth covers a moan from low in my throat as your pulsing cock finally slips inside me, guided by a hand whose fingers now grip the fleshy part of my hip. You move in long slow strokes, breathing in my reactions as though they give you life. I suck in a deep breath as soon as you release my lips. The quiet but sultry whine that follows changes pitch abruptly as you plunge into me. My thighs clench and my head rolls until my teeth graze against the smooth skin of my arm. I can feel your eyes taking in my every move while you repeat the deep, hard thrust several times. You watch my eyes squeeze shut more tightly, and my tongue runs over my teeth before they rake over my lip to keep myself from letting the full throaty moan building inside me from escaping through the open window.

Your name is like honey on my tongue, sweet and sticky. It rolls slowly over my lips and drips down with a deep groan that vibrates deep in my chest. I know you can feel it too. You bury your face against my shoulder. I revel in every little sound you make.

“Tell me what you want.” Your voice is deep and quiet, I can feel it rumble in your chest. The end of your tongue runs up my neck. I shiver. You kiss the pulse point under my ear. *Faster.* I don’t recognize my voice, there is no substance to it. You increase your pace steadily, building tension. I rise to meet every thrust, clinging to you, pulling you into me until I am satisfied. My moans and sighs increase in pitch and volume, “Scream for me. I want you to scream for me.”

My fingernails scratch at your back in response, scoring the skin. I have no control over my reactions. My muscles contract around you, squeezing tighter, my pulse beating through them.

“You feel incredible. I never want to stop…. You are everything . Your lips,” You kiss me lightly. “your hips,” Your hand travels over the curve of my stomach and down my hip to grip the back of my thigh. “your voice.” You sigh into my ear. You pull my leg up, changing the angle of penetration just enough to morph my comfortable bliss into pure nirvana in only a few thrusts. I scream for you.

I want to turn my head, to hide from you, but your hand on my face keeps me still. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. There is nothing but you and the warm echo of my desperate moaning. I run my hand over your shoulder, and down your chest. I feel your heart rate rise and your stomach muscles flex and contract. You squeeze my hand and my thigh as you start to cum. You kiss me through it, squeezing my thigh with every thrust forward. You let go of my hand and run it through my hair. When you slow and still, I wrap my arms around your neck to keep you from pulling away from me. You smooth my hair back one more time, pressing your lips to my forehead.

I let you roll off me, but you pull me with you, so we are facing each other. I lie there with your fingers trailing lightly over the curve of my hip. Back and forth over the rolling slope of my body. It takes you only minutes to drift into the drowsy clam that teeters on the edge of sleep. I won’t move until you fall.

​

*I wrote this for r someone last year. I’m kinda neurotic about my work, be gentle, please.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/c0qm93/yours_and_mine_mf_vanilla_first_person