Just when She Leans her Head Back

He held her feet firmly to the ground and patiently watched her body twitch. It would be any minute now.

The light that streamed in through the glass window of their tiny rented flat, played on the wall and fell in a narrow beam of gold across her bronze body. From her right shoulder, straight across her chest, bisecting her perky breasts in their attentively aroused state, disappearing around her waist.

The slight ambient light that had sneaked into their room at this strategic hour revealed a body that had made him loose his mind a thousand times before. And he found himself in a naked steamy state yet again tonight, falling without control down the warmth of that soft butter body he held with his ice eyes.

It started just a few moments ago, with a playful flick on his lip. And before they knew what had happened, they were already intruding into each other, touching each other's tip. Shock waves flooded in a psychedelic performance of sorts. Like neon lights in the dark.

The heat, the swollen red throbbing. A million nerves in action. A sloppy, slimy, inviting monster, calling him out to play. Let's be monsters together.

He really just wanted to split her legs apart as far as they would go and pour himself into her and mix in her colours so much and so well that they could not be separated again.

He just wanted to snake her hip length curly mane in his wrist so he could pull back her head and lick her dark big nipples wet with his spit. He wanted to spit into her mouth, watch her swallow it. He wanted to spit in her mouth again. So he would just thrust himself in her a little hard and watch her gasp for breath, opening her mouth like a goldfish. And he would spit in that open mouth again and again and again. And watch her swallow it till she would bloat.

But currently he just sits there with his eyes fixed on her fiery gaze, pinning her shamelessly spread legs tightly to the floor so she can't hide herself for a second. Watching her twitch. The skin on her neck. A slight treble of her breast. A half released gasp.

And all the while she sits their gripping him without blinking. Looking deep into him, licking her lips, flipping her hair, making lewd expressions and feeling it all pay off inside her.

She inches closer a bit every time she moves playfully.

The last time she moved, he felt his body neatly screwed into her.

Panting, waiting to catch his breath and calm down so that he could fuck her like a gentleman instead of the animal she awoke in him, he looked down and examined the carnal spectacle of where they joined. She was so close that he could not go any further. Swollen, red, throbbing, warm, dripping out on the sweaty sheets - stuck and sewn together as only animals can be.

He watched beads of sweat accumulate on her body. He wiped her upper lip. He ran a finger around her nipple. Pinched it. Again that tremble, again that tremor. And again that moving a bit closer, gripping a bit more. Being greedy. She is always greedy when she is naked.

And there it finally was.

She leaned her head back so her body revealed to him all its naked glories. He slid the strand of hair that was left clinging to her neck flowing down to her Cleopatra tits. Out of the way. Everything out of the way. She was his now.

Over the thousand times he's tasted her and known her in all her myriad forms, he always waits for her to lean back her head like this. It's the sign. It's when she lets go of all that gives her the strength to face the world. She becomes a flower again; vulnerable, week and waiting to be plucked and defiled.

Once the head has leaned back, he knows, all he has to do is guide her with his hands and fingers and watch her body follow command.

He could flip her over, bend her down roughly, spread her legs with his tongue, or maybe make her put one up the table or simply make her stand with her back against the wall, hands locked above her head so he could slide himself between her leg and enjoy her desperately parting her legs immediately making way for him like an eager prisoner. So greedy. Should he take her to the balcony and make her watch the moon gyrating in the black sky tonight?

There was that one time when he made her wear that silk skirt of hers and took her out on a walk in the park. He loved how the silk slid up her legs. The silk was soft but not as soft as what it revealed on the swing later. Red throbbing as they flew up and down.

She was nasty after she had done the head flip. He could have his way with her. She would let him. She liked it. She liked it so much that sometimes he wouldn't even have to guide her. She picked her own pose. Often one that would let him have the best view. Often one which would make her sway the most. Often one which would give him the best access into her so he could slam her without interruption. She loved to hear the wet sound. Slorp. Slorp. Slump. Thlump.

She liked it when he slapped her butt and licked her holes and slid his thumb in her and moved his hand round and round and called her a slutty bitch. He could feel her fluids flow past his shaft and on to their thighs, as though he had unleashed a waterfall of lust.

And she would coil around him and plead in his ears, breathing, rasping to him to fuck her hard. And he would lose all restraint, turn into a horse and grab her breasts as they bounced around all night long, together squealing like slaughtered little pigs.