Two lovers enjoy a frantic fuck
Do you know the best thing about being with a man like my life partner?
He knows precisely what a lady needs. He knows precisely what to state, acceptable behavior, where to touch and when to stop… or not stop.
The session of feline and mouse is his claim to fame.
What’s more, today, I’m the mouse.
I’m leaving my evening meeting when my telephone alarms me to a message and I open it up.
‘Taxi is outside. Bring your umbrella.’
Taxi? I’m working, I can’t simply clear out. Umbrella? For what reason would I require a—the deluge outside influences me to feign exacerbation.
‘Presently. I’m pausing, child.’
He’s sitting tight for me when he ought to work. He’s arranged this and my stomach flips in expectation. I skip work without one more second of delay and bounce in the lift.
The taxi takes me home and pulls up outside our home.
He’s sitting tight for me inside.
My center swells with excitement, warm surging to settle between my legs, and my areolas hurt against my bra. In a moment I need him. I need him so gravely, I shoot from the taxi and to the front entryway. Quiet welcomes me when I advance inside and tune in for him.
The mid-evening sun streams through the windows of the front room as I keep on searching for him. I quit, feeling the glow on my skin that hits the dance floor with my longing. I chomp my base lip and pause.
He doesn’t keep me holding up long; two extensive hands cover my eyes and the length of a solid body presses into me from behind. I pant, attracting a sharp breath before he turns me and backs me up to the divider with his hands in my hair. His breaths are uneven when he investigates my eyes. His body is hot through the suit I watched him put on at the beginning of today. His eyes are consuming with desire that matches mine.
He crashes his mouth to mine, intertwining our lips in a kiss that is edgy and liquid, wild yet cheerful. His tongue sneaks over mine to investigate my mouth with certain strokes. He moves his hips as he chomps my lip, he plunges lower as he kisses my neck and his hand slips into my jeans. I’m wet, so hot and urgent for his touch that sharp breaths get away from my lips as his fingers discover my clit and he rubs in a spiked circle.
This is it. This is the thing that I cherish, in light of the fact that my life partner is a damn sex god.
He called me from work, summoned me since he knew his appeal would work, since he was horny and he needed me… and he wouldn’t pause.
He kisses me with a fierceness that influences me to wheeze. His fingers fuck me with the certainty that dependably influences me to groan and petition God for progressively while trusting it will keep going forever. Moving me back to lay on the couch, he keeps me tense by measuring my pussy and stroking with the industriousness that thunders through him and makes the framework of his hard rooster obvious underneath his suit pants.
He lays me down and I part my legs. He strokes and breakers his lips to mine, gulping the groan that departures when at the tip of his finger gets my clit. My pants are straightaway, keeping my lower legs bolted together, legs wide, before his head plunges between them.
Christ, his mouth is as staggering as whatever is left of him.
He laps and sucks at my swollen lips, his tongue making relaxed circles over my clit as he murmurs against my delicate fragile living creature and influences my legs to tremble.