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[intlink id=”197″ type=”post”]Find out more about Sandrine here[/intlink].
He’s asleep, and I’m curled up half beside, half over him.
Possessive? Me? Yes. I’m not letting him go.
We’ve worn each other out with ravenous, satisfying yet continually appetising fucks. Each time it’s better than the last, but we still want more. And more. And. So. Much. Fucking…
Desire is rising again, percolating from inner needs to boil in my blood like a kettle without a cut-out. My bare skin starts to burn him, heat and moisture between my thighs, one leg along his, the other creeping up until it nudges his limp cock.
And gets a nocturnal, subconscious response.
Suddenly it’s springing to stiff life under my leg, thigh rubbing him to hardness. Not roughly but just warm and damp flesh caressing slowly. His rigidity to my softness, until pleasant dribbles of stickiness tack the tip of his cock to me, and I massage it between our skins.
He twitches slightly, all over, moans a bit incoherently, and I wonder if I’m influencing his dreams with my touch.
Does he dream of me? He’d better fucking do…
I’m ablaze with need… it’s only been long minutes since we last fucked, him deep and rough inside. Me on my back and him pushing my knees apart, pinning them wide and hooking them over his arms as he thrust wildly, animal abandonment as I claw his chest, nails digging in. Then he’s letting go of everything he has, digging into me as liquid fire sets my soul ablaze, before he collapses, spent onto me. I love his weight on me, let him rest for bliss moments of exquisite pleasure on my belly, and so much more beneath, internal, eternally…
I want him again. I can’t wait. I’m impatient, satisfied but still frustrated, because no matter how we rush to finish, colliding simultaneous climaxes and orgasms, I never want the feel of him inside me to end. I want that fulfillment, that closure, always…
Is that so bad?
He likes me because I am bad, so unbelievably responsive to his words, touch, intimacy beyond fucking, although that’s all it is for now. We drive each other mad while flirting, then into further insanity in bed. Irrational rabid fevers, bodies slamming together with increasing ferocity and nastiness, although what we do is pretty tame compared to what some friends say they get up to… no cuffs or whips or gags and other macabre toys. We’re just naked, body, soul and passion… vanilla extreme. All we need is each other, and the chemistry is explosive.
I roll onto him, straddle his knees and lean down to suck his cock. I don’t care he’s not awake, I want it and I’m going to have it. I’m sure he won’t mind. Is his dream now a nightmare of the best blowjob he’s ever going to have but never knowing? I grip the stiff shaft near its bushy base and run my tongue over the head, pop it in my mouth and make like it’s the best, tastiest and most desired lolly I’ve ever had the pleasure to suck on.
His moans grow louder.
I’m psychotic with libido, sexual hunger, a woman possessed. I kneel up and shimmy until my thighs are over his hips and guide his slick, saliva-soaked cock right up in me. I’m so swollen and sensitive I almost come as the first hot hard touch of him just teasing my labia, skimming my clit, fires me up. Anxiously and aimlessly trying to get him in, then hastily, breathlessly sinking onto that long, rapturous dick with a sizzling sigh of completion, one demand met before compulsion drives me to bounce and spread myself mindlessly on him.
I lean forward, hands clawing and nails digging again. He likes that… he told me. Head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open.
He groans now, the succubus of old born again in me, riding him for only my pleasures…
Does the fact he doesn’t know, may never know, make me that much more physical, using him as my sex toy… no plastic or rubber or glass but real skin and bones beneath me, shaken as I ramp up my ride and just have him?
There’s that twitch, that delicate throb and buzz beyond mere words but anyone who has truly orgasmed will know the sensation. He’s about to come, going to fill me again… I become almost violent with anticipation. I want it now… now, now, now!
He jerks and spurts vigourously, astonishingly much after draining him several times in quick succession this night. My cunt responds, intensely, profoundly. It’s like his spunk has found its way into my blood and surged round every limb and extremity, searing each nerve. I go from ride ’em cowgirl to shuddering sobbing wreck, tears of ecstasy dripping down my cheeks, sighs of euphoria torn from my lips.
I collapse beside him, back in the pose I was just before, feeling a bit guilty at my selfish play. The only difference I’m now damp with perspiration. Hug and cling to him to say a wordless sorry. Then, he wakes… kisses my forehead. A peck on my wet cheek.
“You know…” he sighs, “I just had the most fantastic dream about you…” And he whispers in my ear about me being on top, his subconcious-distorted view of what I just did. It’s much more horny than I could ever have described.
“You wouldn’t… you know…” He sounds strangely bashful, “Like to make a dream come true, would you?”
I smile inwardly. I don’t need to feel guilty any more, because with desire and need once more starting to bubble and seethe in my heart and gut, I know exactly how to make it up to him…