Cameos of Lust

The hot water splashes on your neck and drizzles down your breasts. The tips of your fingers tease your standing nipples, softening them with the perfumed shower gel. Your hands slide underneath your breasts, feeling the weight of them, still maternity-full. Imagining how they will feel to my hands. You're thinking about how it will be: my salty tongue caressing your clit, your legs spread wide like a whore, my hard maleness deep inside you. You slip a finger into your gathering wetness, tempted to take a little pleasure early. Save it for later. All the same, your finger doesn't want to leave. You force it to, with your mind.

Dressing for sex. Calculating. What will turn me on? The thin, transparent panties. The strappy dress which clings to the sheen on your skin. Too short to wear outside, it comes just to mid-thigh. Challenging my eyes to follow the lines of your inner legs to the hidden point of pleasure. No bra, just the rasp of taut nipples against cotton. Your neck and shoulders bare, gossamer straps which offer no defence against my raiding fingers and tongue. Dressing to be fucked. Slipping on the shoes, the strappy ones, enough heel to be slutty, slightly slutty. Checking the clock, anticipation burning in every nerve.

On your knees, your mouth full of cock. Hard cock. Hot cock. Pulsing cock. Your tongue working the slit, foraging for precum. Your dress riding up your thighs. Feeling whorish. One hand wrapped around the throbbing shaft, the other resting on my male-hard thigh. My voice, thick with lust. Directing you, the arousal flushing through you at the crude instructions. You're riding the wave, my wave, your wave. Fuck, you're wet. Your panties are soaked, your cunt liquid fire.

Naked. On crisp cotton sheets. Deliciously naked. Deliciously vulnerable. A whore. On your elbows, your legs spread wider than they need to be. Your thighs streaked with your own hot juices. My hard, hot cock burns inside you, stretching, burning, taking. Fucking. This is Fucking. The knowledge thrills you. You want it rougher. You intensify the spread of your legs, murmuring: Fuck me Nathan, fuck me. Fuck your slut. The words are like a leash, pulling me in, driving harder into you, driving the breath out of you. Your cries. Your moans. 'Fuck me, Nathan.Fuck me.'

Sitting upright. On the chair with your legs hooked whorishly wide over the arms. Not on the bed. On the bed would be loving. Upright on the chair is shockingly dirty. My tongue dragging down from your clit, across your soaked and open cunt, working your rosebud, dragging back, beginning again. Coming. An orgasm without beginning or end. Your wrists tied together and hitched to the wooden chair over your head. The cotton belt (from a dressing gown) is loose and you could shake it in a second. But you like the sensation. You tug to tighten the bonds. My tongue exploring your cunt as a slippery finger invades your rosebud. Your mouth forming an O as your muscles squeeze waves of acid pleasure into your blood.

Mounted and fucked. Pinned on crisp white linen sheets, your ankles between my shoulders and yours. Shamelessly open like this, my hardness taking your molten cunt at will. Intense eyes, cool blue on warm brown, narrrow with need. Each thrust deeper than the last, owning you, holding myself there, right there on the edge. 'Fuck me Nathan, fuck me. Ready for your cum. Fuck me.'

I get rougher with you. It's what you want. Your hands reach into my hair. With tenderness. 'Fucking you Leila, fucking you. Need to cum babe. Fill my slut with cum.' My hard cock spurting, jerking, pulsing in your cunt. Your eyes widen with the pleasure of being bred.

Quietly entangled on warm linen sheets. Breathing still short. Your head on my shoulder. My hand in your hair. Drifting, intimate into sleep. 'I love you Leila. I love you.'

The tick of the clock is loud in the empty apartment. You pull on the light cotton dress, sealing in the sensations of being freshly used. Your cunt is still hot and naked underneath, your thighs streaked with wetness and semen. Your lips and cheeks are still tight where cum has dried on your face. Your cunt pulses steadily with addiction, counting down the beats until I fuck you again. My whore.