Under the coldest, clearest canopy of crystal starsI paced, waiting.
The glow of headlights over the hill.
Her car rattles and clanks to a stop.
Grinning ear to ear I gather her into my eager arms.
Kisses begin —
like a sigh of relief.
We walk, holding hands and smiling
into the ancient log and stone cabin.
Fire crackling.
More kisses.
Pizza shared. Wine poured.
We sit on the leather sofa synchronizing our attraction,
her favorite album pumping from my phone.
More kisses.
“I’ve missed you!”
She clears her headspace voicing concerns about an evening away from her obligations. We talk about it and her anxiety slowly melts away.
She is present.
“When you smile, your entire face smiles.”
Her lips. Fuck. Her lips.
I remember her memory of our last meeting.
I turn her away from me and move her hair. I surround her in my strong embrace and kiss her neck, cupping her breasts.
I feel her relax.
In the brokenness of my decades of rejection I expect rejection from her —
but instead I receive the sweetest sounds and softest caresses.
More kissing.
She turns and leans back on the pillows. Her legs widen and our legs become entangled. She begins to writhe against me like the tide.
She is a quiet person but her careful expressions drop like golden coins into the well of my heart.
I was more aroused by her arousal
than my own.
She bites my neck.
“You are so lovely,” I whisper.
I reach into her shirt and release her from the confines of her bra. My hands find her breasts. Softness. And before my fears even form…
“Fuck” she says, throwing her head back for more kisses.
“Let’s take this party upstairs,” I say, betraying my own doubt.
We reach the stairway to the loft. “You go first,” I say.
She understands this opportunity, swaying with each step and looks back to me briefly with a subtle smile.
She sits on the bed and I plow through my nerves.
More kissing.
I remove her shirt and her unclasped bra. “Your breasts are so lovely.” Pale-pink nipples await me. I feast on them, Listening for clues of her pleasure– her reactions, her sighs, the little sounds, her writhing, “Oh fuck”… all become a balm to my brokenness.
(Is it me creating these feelings in a woman so evocative?)
More kissing.
As she wraps her legs around me and rubs herself against me I say “Take off my shirt, sweet girl!”
“Your magic shirt?” she asks
“It’s done its job,” I smile.
And then skin. And more kissing and another of many slight pauses where all movement stops and we look at one another and smile.
I hold her head in my arms her breasts against me. I caress her.
“These must come off!”
I unbutton her jeans and she raises her hips– another thrilling little moment. As they fall on her growing pile of clothes my hands explore her legs.
Her skin is incredible.
Is anything in creation this soft?
Its like she has no pores.
She is inked. But not the art from an upscale studio. Tattoos self-applied. Tattoos from a past life. The ink of despair and regret. She lays back like a talisman and I discover the deepest appreciation for someone who has grown into who she has become today.
I kneel on the floor and She quickly puts her legs on my shoulders. My kisses find her thighs. My tongue finds that place between her pussy and her legs. My mouth lands on her pussy
still shielded by her panties.
“You smell like vanilla and honey and gardenias.”
Her hips rise.
Another moment more beautiful than I can understand.
She writhes and moans. My tongue slides under the elastic. She gasps.
I grab her panties and pull them aside
and my mouth, my lips, my tongue are on her
softness–wetness–warmth.
Her groan is loud and primal.
“Your pussy is so fucking beautiful.”
A Shining pink rosebud.
Her hands find my hair — guiding
Her gentle instructions — guiding.
Warm, wet, writhing, softness
I apply every synapse of my attention to her pleasure. She offers herself to me completely and with the sweetest abandon.Louder groans. Thrashing.
I astutely interpret these as positive signs.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, “that…so…good!”
Her eyes are closed. Head back. Hands gripping the comforter. Breasts heave.
“I want you inside me.” She says quietly. “Inside…”
I comply.
I crawl onto the bed and kneel before her. One hand behind her head. More
kissing. With my other hand I hold my cock and rub it against her pussy.
She tries to push onto me.
“What position, sweet girl?”
“You decide.”
“I want to see your face when I slide into you.”
It was a good choice.
I cannot remember another time
that someone bit my jaw.
Despite my self-doubt I know she is overwhelmed in the moment. Her hands clench my triathlete ass
as I enter her slowly and begin sliding in and out of her.
“You feel amazing,” we both say simultaneously.
Smiles.
More kissing.
“Cowgirl,” I say.
We clamber to the new position and continue and that is when I realize
she is fucking me as much as I am fucking her. She surrounds my hardness. Stroking my core. Pushing. Pulling. Squeezing. I get even harder. I thrust deeply and answers with rhythmic gasps.
I need a break.
I stand up holding her by her ass
with her arms wrapped around me.
We kiss. And smile.
I lay her onto the bed. We lie side-by-side basking in each other’s presence,
capturing the moment.
“You are so fucking gorgeous,” I whisper.
“You are” she responds.
I rise to my knees.
Sprawled luxuriantly, she gently takes my cock and pulls me to her. She strokes me and then lays my cock over her mouth and moves her head back and forth, sliding her lips and tongue across the underside of my hardness. I savor this beautiful erotic moment.
She puts me in her mouth as she strokes me with her hand. I pull her hand away only to feel her pulsing tongue and sliding lips. I feel her soft, sexy gentleness down my spine
to my toes.
I pull away and gently help her move to face-down. I straddle her legs at the knees and survey the landscape before me.
“Oh fuck” I say quietly.
I lean over and kiss her neck. Her back. The small of her back.
Lower.
She raises her stunning ass.
The view before me takes my breath away. I become enthusiastic. She becomes blissy. And then more blissy. She moves to avail myself to my tongue. She trembles and pushes her self against me. More undecipherable sounds escape her lips. Sounds that make perfect sense.
I cannot take this any longer. I firmly grab her hips and slide into her.
“Oh fuck yes,” she says, gripping the comforter. More fucking.
“You are a creature who has risen out of the sea,” I say in cryptic, pre-nut clarity.
Fucking her harder I grab her breasts, squeezing, pinching, caressing.
I pull her hair back and kiss her roughly, sloppily. She is sweet-sexy, vanilla-scented, undulating alabaster.
“I’m…going…to…cum” I announce.
“mmmmmpff” she responds emphatically.
And at this point I become a howling, thrashing maelstrom. I may have orbited her, full helicopter. I was a 175-pound muscle, grappling and flexing into her.
She responds with animal sounds. Lovely and raw.
“You…are…the…most…wonderful…” I try to say as the last of me surges into her.
“…fuck…” she says eloquently.
I collapse. Spent. And fall to her side.
Our arms gather one another.
She kisses my chest.
I kiss her head.
A dreamlike moment of time
passes.
Our panting subsides.
Eyes meet.
“Again?”
I hear her smile.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kt77kf/after_20_years_of_marital_neglect_something