like an open honeycomb. He inhaled deeply. Her scent swirled through his head, rich, sweet, and tinged with an exotic spice that was purely her own. That scent called to him, as if some celestial perfumer had designed her with him in mind. He was so hard his skin felt ready to burst. His testicles hung like stones in their drawn-up pouch. The temptation to eat her juicy peach until she begged for mercy was strong.
That, however, was a pleasure for another night.
He continued his upward progress, lips preceding fingers up arms, across shoulders. He found another sweet spot under her chin, a tender little pillow of flesh. He nuzzled it until her arms came round his back. Then he laid a trail of kisses to her breasts. The lightest touch of his tongue on her nipple broke her silence. Ah, her breasts were sensitive. One cry followed another as he suckled and plucked and nipped the sharpened tips. Her legs scissored on the mattress. Her hips thrust upward, seeking penetration. He had to lift his body to remove his half-crazed cock from temptation’s path.
She whimpered at his retreat but he filled her with his fingers — just two fingers, for she was tight. Her warm, thick folds clung to his knuckles as he worked her, his thumb firm on her button, his mouth busy at her breasts.
‘Please.’ Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. She seemed unable to get where she wished to go. ‘Please.’
He took her hand and placed it over his. She did not move. She seemed afraid to guide him. ‘Show me,’ he said, and kissed her full on the mouth.
Her tongue reached for his. She sighed, and then shyly she moved his thumb. She swept it from one side of her clit to the other, rubbing the slippery hood across the shaft. When he’d caught the motion she wanted, she pressed the back of his hand as if to say: a little harder.
Good girl, he wanted to say, but feared she’d take offence.
He brought her off three times, each hard and quick.
‘Enough,’ she gasped, though her body still squirmed around his fingers.
He let her rest for a moment, then sat back on his heels. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘I don’t think I can stand any more,’ she pleaded even as her sheath rippled and clung.
‘One more special one,’ he insisted, and curled a third finger into her body. After three orgasms, the swelling behind her pubic bone was unmistakable, a delectable, fluid-filled cushion. He pressed upward, slowly increasing the pressure until at the last he was lifting her weight off the bed.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said. ‘What is that? That is so…oh, my God!’
He chuckled, delighted to be the first to introduce her to this pleasure.
‘Abigail Coates,’ he said, ‘meet your G-spot.’
He covered her mound with his second hand and captured her clit between finger and thumb. She groaned. Lightly, he pinched the hood over the shaft and sleeked it up and down — not her motion, but one he thought she might like.
She did. Her hips struggled towards his hand. Her breaths came in aspirated moans.
‘Please,’ she said, completely beyond shyness. ‘Make me come. Oh, God, I can’t stand it!’ Before the wail faded, her body bent up like a bow. Her sheath clenched tight. He pressed harder, within and without.
‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘oh…’ and spurted all over his hand.
It was over in five deep shudders. She sagged back against the bed. He petted her gently down before removing his sopping fingers. He was glad she hadn’t realised she’d ejaculated. Some women got nervous about that, thought they’d lost control of their bladder. He could explain the difference to Abby some other night.
‘That was incredible,’ she said. ‘I’ve never felt anything so intense. How did you know I could do that?’
He bent to kiss the tip of her nose. ‘I make it my business to know.’
‘Your business,’ she said, a funny note in her voice.
‘My avocation,’ he clarified.
She seemed to like that answer better
That, however, was a pleasure for another night.
He continued his upward progress, lips preceding fingers up arms, across shoulders. He found another sweet spot under her chin, a tender little pillow of flesh. He nuzzled it until her arms came round his back. Then he laid a trail of kisses to her breasts. The lightest touch of his tongue on her nipple broke her silence. Ah, her breasts were sensitive. One cry followed another as he suckled and plucked and nipped the sharpened tips. Her legs scissored on the mattress. Her hips thrust upward, seeking penetration. He had to lift his body to remove his half-crazed cock from temptation’s path.
She whimpered at his retreat but he filled her with his fingers — just two fingers, for she was tight. Her warm, thick folds clung to his knuckles as he worked her, his thumb firm on her button, his mouth busy at her breasts.
‘Please.’ Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. She seemed unable to get where she wished to go. ‘Please.’
He took her hand and placed it over his. She did not move. She seemed afraid to guide him. ‘Show me,’ he said, and kissed her full on the mouth.
Her tongue reached for his. She sighed, and then shyly she moved his thumb. She swept it from one side of her clit to the other, rubbing the slippery hood across the shaft. When he’d caught the motion she wanted, she pressed the back of his hand as if to say: a little harder.
Good girl, he wanted to say, but feared she’d take offence.
He brought her off three times, each hard and quick.
‘Enough,’ she gasped, though her body still squirmed around his fingers.
He let her rest for a moment, then sat back on his heels. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘I don’t think I can stand any more,’ she pleaded even as her sheath rippled and clung.
‘One more special one,’ he insisted, and curled a third finger into her body. After three orgasms, the swelling behind her pubic bone was unmistakable, a delectable, fluid-filled cushion. He pressed upward, slowly increasing the pressure until at the last he was lifting her weight off the bed.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said. ‘What is that? That is so…oh, my God!’
He chuckled, delighted to be the first to introduce her to this pleasure.
‘Abigail Coates,’ he said, ‘meet your G-spot.’
He covered her mound with his second hand and captured her clit between finger and thumb. She groaned. Lightly, he pinched the hood over the shaft and sleeked it up and down — not her motion, but one he thought she might like.
She did. Her hips struggled towards his hand. Her breaths came in aspirated moans.
‘Please,’ she said, completely beyond shyness. ‘Make me come. Oh, God, I can’t stand it!’ Before the wail faded, her body bent up like a bow. Her sheath clenched tight. He pressed harder, within and without.
‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘oh…’ and spurted all over his hand.
It was over in five deep shudders. She sagged back against the bed. He petted her gently down before removing his sopping fingers. He was glad she hadn’t realised she’d ejaculated. Some women got nervous about that, thought they’d lost control of their bladder. He could explain the difference to Abby some other night.
‘That was incredible,’ she said. ‘I’ve never felt anything so intense. How did you know I could do that?’
He bent to kiss the tip of her nose. ‘I make it my business to know.’
‘Your business,’ she said, a funny note in her voice.
‘My avocation,’ he clarified.
She seemed to like that answer better
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