An ache. [str8 M/F]

(There are a couple private jokes as I wrote this with a certain someone in mind – I hope they don’t detract. I’d appreciate your constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!)

I try so hard not to think about you. But there is still such a deep ache, this yearning I can’t get rid of.

Fantasy consumes me throughout the day – when I make coffee, I’m making coffee for you. I pick an outfit because I hope the colors and fabrics will please you. The steering wheel becomes your hips. I think of a joke to tell you only to hear the much wittier reply you would have. I watch a pretty sunset and your elegant hand is in mine. My pillow becomes your shoulder. I feel myself smile when I think of you. It’s just so awful, this terrible, terrible longing.

But I like to imagine being alone with you, walking into a hotel room. Rushing into a hotel room, rather – the mad anticipation making us barely able to get the key card into the reader, how do doorknobs work?

We figure it out, we open the door. You spin and push yourself against me and the door is shut by the sudden weight on my shoulders. You press yourself against me and it feels so good and right. We kick off our shoes. We’re kissing, arms around each other. Breathing in, I feel like I’m drinking you up. I’ve never felt so present – I am here in this moment for your wet lips and quick sly glances, the way your eyebrows move, the way your cheeks smile. My mouth pulls on the fullness of your bottom lip over and over. People close their eyes to kiss, but I can’t – I can’t take my eyes off of you; I don’t ever want to stop looking at your face. You’re good at kissing. You are so good at kissing.

Your lips are divine; it’s immediately obvious that our mouths fit together just so and in the most pleasing way. Never have any two people kissed so well as we are now. Ancient epic Greek poems could have been written about us making out. It’s a shame to leave your lips, but I remember that you have this neck. This wonderfully formed neck.

Oh, you’re just a little salty behind your ear. Great big slow kisses, a little tooth, a little tongue. Methodically from your ear, down your lovely neck to your shoulder, pulling aside the fabric, these great big toothy kisses, tasting you and gnawing on you gently, you fucking perfect little thing.

My fingers have been running up and down your back and through your cool dark hair and along your scalp, but now I press them tight along your small waist. This is a danger: once my hands are on your waist and hips, how will I ever stop gripping your midsection? Danger, danger.

I drop both my hands to the backs of your thighs, scooping your legs up into my hands as my mouth returns to your lips. As I lift you up above me, I kiss your chest through your favorite shirt. It’s a great shirt and I see why you picked it. You smell so nice. Your hands crossing my neck, I carry you to the bed. I drop you down and look upon you. You are such a fucking fox. Such a vixen. You’re, like, all kinds of different animals, you’re all the sexy animals, all of the sexiest animals. Your pants are tight, which makes my pants tight. I liked having my hands behind your thighs, more of that, ok?

Hey, turn over. I’d like to kiss your neck and back. You help me pull your nice shirt up your back. I have an arm under you to cup a breast in one hand, and an arm above you to tease your thigh, grab your ass, tease your thigh, grab your ass. Fuck, woman, these legs. This ass. These legs. This ass. All along your side, my hand has found its purpose: to glide and tease you, to grope and squeeze you. You’re soon unbuttoned and unzipped. Your neck smells so nice.

Your breasts make me believe in God. A lot of breasts were made to feed children. But your tits were shaped foremost to please men. I am overwhelmed by the realization of how lucky I am to count myself among the small number – relative to the general population – of men to feel you up. Fuck fuck fuck, woman, I love being under your shirt where you hide these pert little treasures. Fuck. Fuck!

It’s a failure of society that bridges and parks are not named after your breasts. Someday, I am sure, a planet will be discovered, and its twin moons will be named in honor of your amazing tits. They are stellar and heavenly. Tonight, they are within my reach and I explore them with the pure passion of an astronaut untethered.

I’m cussing a lot. Sorry. Words fail me. I’m all: fuck, god, damn, yes, fuck, shit, jesus, fuck, dammit, more, god, fuck, yeah. Plus a lot of nonsense like ffffffffffff and mmmmmmmm and unnnnnnnnghnghnghn. Your fucking perfect tits and hot little ass. Hot damn, I love having my hands all over you. Fffffffff mmmm unnnnnnghnghngh.

Gripping your hip, I pull your hot little ass to me. I pull your hot little ass to me again. Over and over, your hot little ass against me. Again. Again. More, more, more. My hand, your hip. Thrusting. My hand, your hip. Pulling your tight unbuttoned unzipped jeans down. Now you take over, grinding. Rolling your sexy hips against me. Fuuuuuuck. You’re. So. Fucking. Good.

I like having my mouth between your shoulder blades, kissing the curves of your neck and back, teasing your nipple with one hand, pressing your thigh with the other.

But I roll you onto your belly. I must kiss that hot little ass. Down your back. Slowly kissing you all down your back, following the ideal curve of your spine. I wanna make you wait for it, but I wanna make it worth your wait. Slow. Thorough. Your back is getting thoroughly kissed.

Finally I’m kissing your hot little ass. I like your choice of underwear but it’s got to go, it must be peeled away, it simply must. A hand at your shoulder, a hand up and down your legs. Mouth on your beautiful ass, mouth all over your beautiful ass. Both hands now gripping and groping your hot little beautiful ass. Pulling it apart, pushing it together. God damn, your ass. Squeezing, pulling, pushing, kissing. Squeezing, pulling, pushing, kissing this hot little beautiful fucking ass. Thumbs at your labia. Fuuuuck, woman, you are wet.

Oh good god hot damn, lady, you are so wet and you smell so good and my hands and mouth are right here. I’m going to pull your unbuttoned, unzipped hips straight up into the air and bury my face in your gorgeous wet pussy. I like hearing your sounds as I work you over deep with my tongue. My face fucking pressed hard against you, my chin getting wet between your fantastic thighs. The waist of your tight pants is at your knees. Jeans are half off. I spank you. Not because you’re bad but because you’re so fucking good. I spank you again. You’re so fucking good. Again. Again and again, your hot little ass. Fuck, it is so good, shaped just so. Every little spank, a celebration of its perfection and the way you move it for me, the way you move it against me.

With both hands squeezing your hot little ass, I can thumb your tight fucking pussy while I kiss your labia and tongue your sweet clit. Goddammit you are grinding yourself all over my face and it’s soooo good. You taste so nice.

Turn over. Turn over. I can count the number of times I’ve said the C word on one hand, but I like the way this sounds: I want to kiss your cunt and lick your clit while my middle finger is deep, deep up inside you, curled around just so to drive you fucking wild, my other hand wrapped around yours – together squeezing your pert breast, massaging it in concert. You make me wish I had more arms.

Sorry, I pull my hand away from your chest to grind my palm firmly on your pelvis and to pull your labia apart at your sweet clit, giving my eager wet tongue more to lick as I finger you hard and deep, fucking your gorgeous wet pussy with my face and hands.

You’re close and I know it. You’re grasping one breast, and I thrust a hand up to the other, your hard nipple pinched between my fingers as I grip your fullness.

You come. You shake and you come. You shake, throb, squirm, and you come. You pull yourself away from my mouth, quivering, so I scoot up to watch your pretty face as you climax, and finally kiss your sweet breasts, then lick your chest and kiss your tummy as you catch your breath. You fucking perfect little thing.

The sounds you make might as well be a magic spell you’re incantating, the way you’ve made me yours. I am yours, you fucking perfect little thing, you sexiest of animals.

I hope you’re not sleepy; I want to get behind you and see your hot little ass bounce against me, see the way your hot ass makes an unforgettable heart shape when your pussy is hungry for my cock. I want to fill my fist with a handful of your cool dark hair, see your wonderful pussy grip my cock as I thrust myself into you, hear your wetness slap my thighs as I grunt your name ever more loudly. I want you. I want you so fucking much. I want you so fucking hard. You fucking perfect little thing, I need you so bad, need you so good.

There is so much of you before me to kiss – those knees and thighs, ribs and sides, that nice little belly… but it’s your lips I need. My hand is rubbing your waist. Oh, fuck! Fuck, I knew this would happen – I can’t take my hand away from your midsection!

[It is at this point that an old man emerges from the bathroom in a towel and terry cloth slippers. Long story short, the hotel has double-booked this room. We all have a good laugh. The old man calls down to the concierge and we are shown to our proper room. We are comped some room service and start again from the top.]

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/m5d1o1/an_ache_str8_mf