"What would you like to do to me?"
I crawled into his lap and gazed up at him with wide innocent eyes.
He stared at me in silence, looking torn between fleeing and devouring me.
We had flirted and teased for a while, being subtle enough to keep our egos protected, while still leaving open the opportunity for the other to respond.
I finally got him back to my place and onto the couch. But he did nothing. The feeling between us was palpable - the desire and heat. There was no doubt what we both wanted, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Again, the question had left open a range of responses - but the only thing I wanted to hear was some variation of his desire to tear off my clothes and violate me in a dozen different ways.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and began nuzzling his earlobe - gently licking and giving it a brief bite. I could feel his breathing speed up and his hand tighten on my thigh.
I sensed his torment as he struggled with propriety and his growing passion. With a sigh of impatience, I put my tongue in his mouth and pulled him on top of me. I could feel his erection as he ground himself against me and knew that I had silenced his internal debate.
Once he made the decision to continue, he no longer showed any signs of hesitation. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once - squeezing my breasts, pulling my shirt out from my jeans...
A moment like this is indescribable, coupled with a touch of surreality. To have wanted and fantasized about this experience so often and so vividly, adds a dream-like quality to each touch and sound.
For a moment there was doubt that the reality could compare to the countless climaxes created by the fantasy. But as the heat and wetness continued to build I knew that such a comparison was not only unnecessary, but also ridiculous. For in none of my most wanton daydreams did I capture the essence of what this man could do to me.
My imaginings were merely a tantalizing taste of the ambrosia that was being offered before me.
He continued to caress my skin and began to slowly undress me. Agonizing how he drew out each moment- not merely to savour it, but also to torture me with his seeming patience in the face of my eagerness.
He lingered over each curve and crevice on my body - licking and blowing soft kisses and tracing every line. It might have been a romantic scene if I had not, by way of contrast, begun quickly tearing off his clothing with no regard for damage to the fabric or care for where each hastily flung article landed.
Perhaps it was best that I hadn't lit candles to set the "mood."
What may have begun as soft-core erotica was quickly degenerating into a comedy. However he soon took the hint and appeared to acquiesce to my silent plea to pick up the pace a bit.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He dropped me semi-gracefully onto the bed, pulled my legs over the edge and knelt down between them.
That was more like it.
He immediately realized that this was an unnecessary move foreplay-wise, as I was more than wet and ready. So he spent merely a few moments licking and sucking on my clit - thrusting his tongue in and out before he had me writhing on the bed like a cat.
But we knew what we both wanted. So he climbed onto the bed and scarcely had time to find a pillow before I pounced on him.
I had spent months mentally exploring and pleasing every inch of his glorious body - claiming it as my own to use as I wished. I wasn't allowing him any opportunity to hesitate, or God forbid, change his mind now.
I climbed atop him and started riding him like my life depended on it. Up. Down. In. Out. Hard. Fast. I saw his eyes roll back in his head and his fingers grip bruisingly on my hips. he certainly showed no inclination to escape. Excellent.
I set an unforgiving rhythm that barely allowed him to keep up.
His breathing became ragged and our moans mingled together surely loud enough for my neighbours to hear.
The bedframe slammed against the wall in time to our thrusting, adding a sense of urgency to the moment.
I felt him arch up against me and yell a final moan as he came in a hot gush.
I rolled off of him to allow him a moment to catch his breath. There was no way I was letting him leave yet. I was just getting started.
Bitter Harvest Series by Ann Gimpel
9 hours ago