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| An artistic portrayal of an act performed on a woman, furtively while a formal party is in progress (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
I had come to a stopping point and was ready to get out of my work clothes and into something much more comfortable before dinner. Locking the door to the bedroom, I slipped out of my clothes, stripping down to just my panties. The cool, rain-kissed air coming through the open windows felt like the finest silk against my skin, and feeling a bit drowsy, I laid down across the bed and closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back over what I had read.
Like most erotic writers tend to do, Robert had written what he likes, and I'd already told him it seemed like he'd been peeking in the window at my last fling and me. He had written of how sensitive his ears are, so as I lay across the bed, I imagined how they would taste, my tongue flicking over the soft lobes before tracing the sworls with the tip. His stories led me to believe he has a deep appreciation for mind-blowing oral sex - both giving and receiving. There's no way he could know of my oral talents (except in my own stories), nor could he know how much I like being brought to a screamingly intense orgasm at the behest of a lover's tongue and fingers.
As my mind played over the snapshots of his stories, my nether lips began to swell, the sensitive nubbin between them starting to grow and throb, emerging out from beneath its hood. Idly, softly, my hand caressed my bare chest, rubbing over first one nipple, then the other, feeling the silky soft skin of my breasts. I slid my other hand down my body, slipping my fingers beneath my panties to tease the hard nub. Scenes from one of his stories played through my mind, and I wondered if his oral skills are as good as what he'd written.
I could see his dark head between my thighs, his brown wavy hair tickling the pale golden flesh as his tongue teased over the moisture at the juncture of my legs. My fingers rubbed over my my clit before dipping into my hole, drawing the nectar up the cleft between my lips. His lips pursed over my bud, suckling it gently, increasing the pull. I pinched the sensitive bundle of nerves between my fingers, my hips rising off the bed. Robert's tongue lapped my pussy from perineum to the top of my clit. Two fingertips spread my now flowing juices over my mound. He slid two thick fingers into my slit while his mouth pulled and drew on my clitty.
I reached over and pulled my glass dildo from the drawer by the bed. Its cool smoothness tantalized my hot skin as I worked it into my greedy hole, sliding it in, inch by inch. My right hand held the ridged shaft while my left hand continued to torment the aching bud. In my mind, Robert was there, curved fingers rubbing my G-spot, making my juices flow more insistently, bathing his fingers and creating a small puddle on the bed beneath me. Finally, the dildo was buried all the way in me. I slid it in and out, feeling the bumpy, bulbous head torment my G-spot and stretch my tight cunt. My fingers pinched and pulled on my clit, inflicting enough pain to light up every nerve. My fantasy lover kept lapping at my woman's flesh, drinking every drop of nectar flowing from my slit, as he slid a third finger into my swollen hole. Faster and faster I worked the glass in and out, my fingers teasing my clit more. The sucking sound of the dildo sliding in and out of my wet hole filled the room, intermingled with my moans and sighs, the slight creak of the bed springs as my hips pumped to meet my hands. The wave of heat rose higher, sending me careening toward an intense orgasm. After a few more thrusts, my body soared over, a muffled keening cry all the verbal release I dared as the walls of my love canal grasped and pulsed around my toy. I continued teasing my clit, savoring the aftershocks as they rocked through my body.
With a luxurious sigh and stretch, I rose from the bed, mentally wished my fantasy lover adieu for the time being and got dressed.
