She was splayed across the bed, naked, glorious and wonderful; to my eye anyway. Looking upon her face I could see it struggle with all of her insecurities. She hated how she looked. I wish I could get her to just see herself through my eyes for just five minutes, she would never feel that way ever again. I have my own set of insecurities, to be sure, but when I feel her eyes upon me, they all melt away. I guess she has had too many lovers whose eyes lied to her to believe mine fully.
The soft lighting made her skin almost glow, or perhaps it was her skin that made the lighting seem softer. She saw herself overweight, I saw before me a voluptuous creature that stoked a desire within me to burning. I saw flesh I wanted to touch and caress and worship. I saw a woman that could make me hard just by walking into the bedroom and seeing her on display in such a way.
She spreads her legs a bit more while at the same time smiling almost coyly. Both pairs of her lips parting in a slight reveal. She has already revealed too much. Waiting for me naked and on top of the bed hinted strongly at urgency. That fact mixed with hearing the gears of her insecurities grind away directed me to avoid caressing that could be considered teasings. She was not in the mood of such foreplay. It would be counterproductive for both of us in the end.
The way her eyes jumped from my lips to my hands and to my cock, hinted strongly at her hunger. The fact my hands were included in the devouring glare directed the hunger between her thighs so my eyes wandered back there. Her legs parted a bit further as if I uttered a magical phrase to open. Her fingers touched firmly to open herself further still, she let a faint gasp escape from her mouth, whether as a reaction or for my benefit, it really didn’t matter, my cock jerked in response anyway.
I climbed upon the bed and took her displaying hand in both of mine. I brought her fingers to my lips. I sniffed and could smell her rich musk. I licked and I suddenly remembered what true pleasure tasted like. I let go of her hand when I was finished and let both of mine touch her wet, swollen cunt.
How to cut through insecurities? How to not only give her the pleasure she so desperately craves right now but leave her feeling beautiful as well? I roll the dice…
I begin by rolling the hood of her clit up with my thumb and letting the pad of my thumb just rest against the swollen clit. It takes effort not to caress it, but I have something else in mind. I begin to circle her moistened lips with the index finger of my other hand, again, and again, and again. Almost hypnotizing myself in the process. Her cunt was lovely. Her cunt made me want everything about her. The thought made me smile. She lets out a groan. It is a lovely sound.
I continue the motion, only occasionally dipping in when I wanted a bit more of her moisture. It did not take long before she started ever so slightly rocking. I watched as her cunt and her ass would suddenly constrict and relax. I adjusted my circling until it was in sync with the pattern. On every release, her clit would rub against my well positioned thumb. The pleasure radiating from her was intense. I laughed to myself wondering why I never tried something like this before. The whimpers escaping her expressed a slight torture. So I plunged two fingers deep within her.
She arched, like a bow fully taunt. Her cunt crushed my fingers yet I kept plunging deeper. She was a vast, warm ocean and my fingers were a sinking ship. No! She was an inkwell and my fingers were the quills. A sudden thought filled my mind and a sudden hunger filled the rest of me.
I pulled my slick fingers, my quills, from her cunt, her well, and began to scrawl lewd poetry upon her flesh.
Two lines along her right thigh, following each with my tongue to recite them to memory. The taste of her cum, against her flesh, mixed with the verse, divine!
I plunge three fingers back in and hook deeply within her, collecting her sacred ink. I pull out and write three more lines on her other thigh, and again recite them to memory by licking them away.
I plunge again and pull out again. Lines on her calf.
Again! Her other calf.
Again! Her inner thighs.
Again! And I end the poem with my tongue in her cunt.
Then I plunge my fingers into her again. This time, I do not stop. Deeper and deeper and deeper until she screams, until she cums, drowning my hand with her invisible ink. Then I draw upon her breasts and torso. I commit it all to memory, again, with my hungry tongue.
I kiss her deeply, and let my tongue recite it to her and at the conclusion of that kiss, for a moment, her insecurities are banished, and all I can taste is her sex in our kiss and her hunger for so much more.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/d88er5/quills_and_ink_mf