And that’s when I catch my reflection. I had lipstick smeared right across my face like a prostitute at the end of her shift. Of course, I had to go fix this straight away, but as soon as I walk into my room, Anthony’s there, scattering rose petals on our bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Being romantic.” He said, as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Happy birthday, Ella.” Before I could impassion my thoughts, I was locked into a kiss, pushing against his warmth. Each kiss brought about new struggles for balance until eventually, we settled on the edge of the bed. Eager, he began tracing my body gently with the tip of his index finger, lining my jaw, my neck, my collarbones, my breast, until it caught on the loose draping of my dress. “Let’s get this off you.” His voice gravelled through the depths of his throat, bringing forth a rich, seductive whisper as he lifted himself, allowing me to sit up and undress.
I rolled onto my front and knelt facing the mirror. Excited hands slithered around my waist. Watching intently, I awaited Anthony’s appearance; but of course, he had to keep me in anticipation as he planted light kisses onto my exposed shoulders. He burrowed his head into my hair and inhaled deeply, letting his hands climb carelessly up my back and to the straps of my dress. Just as he reached the crest of it, his hair swept into view; and just as he began working his way around to look in the mirror at me, he pushed the straps off my shoulders. Flaring satin spewed out from around us: ribbons of colour falling effortlessly onto the bed. I crawled out of the dress and continued to gaze at Anthony through the mirror whilst he gaped at my lingerie from behind me.
With a quaint smirk of confidence, I turned to him. “You like it?” I crooned softly. With a nervous gulp, he nodded, focusing down at the strapless lace corset I was cinched into. Almost hesitant, Anthony reached his hand out to touch me; I had never seen him so intimidated. A slight tremble guided his hands closer to my body until finally, I felt his warm skin gently brushing against my shoulder. Bestial intent cascaded over him like a thick black shadow of desire; he gripped my fair skin, burrowing his nails deep inside of me. And with an innate, brute force, he lay me down onto the rose petals to sharpen the evening with passion. As a rush of unrelenting love conquered our consciences, sweet, intrinsic magnetism locked our lips together once again as our yearning hands explored one another. He began at my breasts, traversing every peak and valley in my body; I, on the other hand, focused on his back, scratching through his muscularity. Each moment brought a new intensity: wandering hands were followed by excited lips when suddenly, I was blessed by a familiar pleasure.
Love again: a man’s tongue in my cunt, drowning in a lash-wide stare. I pushed back his fringed, brown hair as it knotted between my fingers. By now, he had completely undressed me so each fair, protruding ridge in my body slightly sheltered his gentle, golden face; though the slight grinding of my hips acquainted our gazes: that unfailing magnetism. Sweet, incoherent babble. I moaned and murmured all sorts of shit: one minute it’s an I love you, the next it’s the slip of an Oedipal complex that was welcomed by a finger or two. He was gentle, at first, yet as love expounded, his beckoning hand grew more zealous and volatile inside of me. Then, as I felt myself approaching that first ‘big O’ he retreated to kneel before me with a smug grin.
“Anthony, I didn’t…”
“I know.” He chuckled, grabbing tight hold of my ankles, “That’s the point.” One quick tug. My legs rested on his strong, muscular shoulders as he focused on inserting himself. I didn’t feel a thing, at first, but he began thrusting, throwing his head back.
“Anthony,” I smirked. “I don’t think it’s in.”
He glanced down in between my legs and blushed. “Sorry, it’s been a while.” Once again, he tried to slip it in. “How ’bout now?” I shook my head. He tried again: “Now?”
I sat up to see what he was doing, lowering my legs gently. One hooked onto his forearm, whilst the other wrapped around his waist. “What if I like…” I began bucking my hips towards him, “Do this, and then you?”
Slowly, Anthony slipped himself inside of me, allowing me to feel every fleshy esker as I parted; I could feel myself tightening: wanting, no, needing to sense his love. Then, that sudden withdrawal. A deep breath. Another thrust. Gratification.
As time went by, he built a vivace pace; though each second he was inside of me felt like an hour of simple, unadulterated pleasure. And as I lay back, grinding coyly against him, I could sense a love like no other. Each time our eyes met, a breathy, innate smile was exchanged. Each time our hands touched, a comfortable, unadorned feeling of warmth rushed over me. There’s no feeling quite like this. Nothing compares to falling in love for the first time.
I was quite taken aback by how the most simplistic of movements garnered such intensities. How does the almost Neanderthalic bumping and grinding lead to such maturity and passion? I mean, it’s beautiful, really: love in its most rudimentary form: the seamlessness of it all. From the comforting crook of his neck, to the sacrosanct interweaving of our lips; our hands; our genitalia, I was overwhelmed by minimalistic life. Surely, as humans, we are designed to love.
Blindingly undiminished, sweet emotions ran deep, bringing about new pleasures. We had began to plateau. Nearly approaching that peak. I was clutching onto the bedsheets as though my life depended on it, as he grunted, constantly changing the way he’d move his hips and the way we were positioned. It was sometime during what he called ‘the lotus’ that I felt myself orgasming. I had my legs wrapped neatly around him with my hands pressed into his collar bones as he slowly guided my hips backwards and forwards. “That’s it baby, you’re doing great,” he crooned softly into my ear, “I’m gonna move you a little faster, eh?” I nodded, trying to grind quicker to impress him. He burrowed his nails deep into my skin. “Keep going.” He grunted, pushing and pulling me more recklessly than before. My breathing began to stifle. My pace began to fragment. I was there. And so was he. In one loud moan, I felt everything seeping into my body as he planted his head into my breasts. “I love you.” He murmured, before breaking into a monologue about his emotions. As he spoke, his mellow voice ribboned through the peaceful silence in a quiet, slow, smoky drawl; he had this really unique twang that sorta battled with his subtle lisp for my attention. And as the sentences wore thin, and his voice crept to a lerching crawl, my focus became acquainted with that deep huskiness hidden beneath that southern Californian accent.
I dismounted him and collapsed onto the bed next to him. “You know Ant’, I wish I could find words so sincere. I envy that about you.” I giggled, “I love you too, you were amazing.”
He sighed blissfully. “I know.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/t7mkuy/mf_first_time_together_extract_from_a_wider_story
Very cute story <3 This real, I’m guessing?