[fm] Petrichor

He lies on the bed naked supported by his elbows and you stand in front of him. You can hear the rain pounding on the windowpane, and your heart pounding within your chest. Soft music plays, but maybe only in your imagination. His eyes are fixated on you, never moving, never roaming, those dark splendid orbs with flakes of gold you want to reach. That gaze is tigerlike, so so intense, and it is magnetic and draws you to him. You walk towards him step by step, unable to control, unable to resist.

Step by step, you close upon him. He reaches out, arms closing around your ass, and pulls you towards him. You gasp as your feet fly off the ground, and gasp again as your body falls on top of his. His erection digs into your stomach, long and hard and lewd. You can already feel the moisture welling between your thighs. You close your eyes, as your mouth meets his, lips touching in blissful union. You moan into his mouth, and he slips his tongue between your lips. It liaisons with yours quite inappropriately, then slips coquettishly away. A finger caresses your cheek, your smooth skin meeting his calloused fingers. They run across you gently, only brushing against your skin, light enough to tickle, light enough to arouse.

His tongue comes back, slipping into places you never knew you had.

Another soft moan. You rub yourself against him, fingernails digging into his chest, admiring its hardness, how his muscles clench as he stretches. Stretches towards your back, finding the hem of your shirt and pulling it up. Stretching again towards the clasp of your bra. It falls off like a dream.

You kiss him again, delighting in his scent, sweet and fresh and musky like rain, but slightly spicy and undeniably sexy. This is a spice that delights your nostrils, that leaves you wanting more. You push your face into his. Lips meet lips and nose meets nose. Your forehead brushes against his neck. His body writhes underneath yours, broader and stronger.

Those calloused fingers touch the back of your thighs, lingering on the supple flesh long enough to let you know his pleasure. Then they move up, below the miniskirt you specially chose for today. Your breath quickens, in nervous expectation.

His hands hesitate, finding no panties where they expected one, running up and down a few extra times just to be sure. They paw at your ass, closing around your buttcheeks and giving each a squeeze. He growls his pleasure into your ears. Those firm, roving fingers continue their path, like ships on a voyage, charting a map across your skin. They climb up the mountain of your thighs, each step and every second a whirlwind of pleasure. Your pubic hair is like a windswept plain, short tufts of fine down growing from your skin. That too, they cross. A small lake, flooded its banks. Sudden and unexpected rainfall.

His hands are at places few have ever reached before. He presses his fingertips down into the stickiness coating you, and you wonder for a second if he will bring it to his mouth or even yours. But his hands move closer still, to the treasure between your legs, the heat emanating through your being. Slowly, delicately, he brushes your clit.

A single touch. A rush of helplessness, a feeling of yielding. A sudden surge of warmth that courses through you. You find yourself wanting more.

You roll around. He is on top of you now. You can feel his weight on your body, heavy and reassuring. His hands are still on your clit. Every flick, every rub, every motion of his starts an avalanche in your body, tremors and whimpers, spreading heat and seeping moisture. Then you feel his mouth on your breasts, licking your titflesh here, kissing there. One hand comes up – mercifully. It engulfs a breast, just big enough to wrap around you. Your nipple slips between two of his fingers, something he finds funny. He smiles as he bends down to lick it, fingers teasing the areolae beneath. Another small, broader this time, as those fingers move to your other nipple. A hand around one, the other is his mouth. Your clit strummed like a guitar with his fingers. Pleasure snowballs into pleasure, and you almost cum.

You moan and scream and plead and purr, thrusting your hips downwards, grinding your clit against his finger, pulling his head up so his lips meet yours once more. Your hands are all over him now, just as his hands are all over you, frantic to explore and seek and grope whatever they can reach.

“Please.” A small whimper.

Thank god, he understands. The touching stops, the kissing halts. He looks at you once more, with those sexy beautiful tiger eyes.

You moan, then moan louder as you finally feel his hand on your thighs. You spread your legs apart as far as you can, and he pulls them apart even further (oh god, his strength!), then positions himself right between them. You feel him slipping into you, and moan again.

Inch by inch he slides into you, every inch eliciting more and more moisture. Inch by inch those beautiful eyes come closer to you. When he finally stops, you are filled in ways you never thought possible. His balls, those lovely testicles you will soon treat between your lips, tickle against your upward turned butt. He starts to fuck you, deep and gentle, halfway out, whole-way in. Making sure his tip is buried deep within you with every stroke.

You moan. You can feel his hardness throbbing in your pussy, its tip pulsing angrily. It is impatient, it wants to cum.

He moves. A leg on his shoulder, a hand on your clit. Rubbing. Tingling. Moaning. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, it is better this way. But the best is yet to be.

He lets go of your other leg. It falls to join the rest of you on the bed, limp and saturated in pleasure. He fucks you, hard and fast, gripping your hips as he rams his cock into you. Your clit somehow rubs against something. You don’t really care anymore.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Moans fade into one another, the sensation running through your veins reaching peak after peak. Too much to take.

“I- I’m going to-”

You scream, long and sharp as you cum.

It is raining outside, and raindrops pound against the windowpane. You have left it half ajar, and the floor is becoming wet. In comes the smell of rain, sweet and fresh and just like him.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7dlr62/fm_petrichor