Talking and Taking

She kneels above him, teasing him. Her face is in darkness, the light behind her, showing off her curves and the occasional glint of an eye that gives a hint of how much she's enjoying this.

"Beg me."

"Please... please," he whispers.

***

The fateful words had been spoken. The ones that anyone in a relationship -- well, mostly guys, to be honest -- dreads.

"We need to talk."

"Sweetheart, I'm late for work. I've got a presentation to do, I'm going nuts over it," he squirmed, hating the look in her eyes that said he was being cowardly. "I promise -- really promise we'll talk this evening. I'll buy you dinner, we'll have all the time then to talk about everything."

That had been three weeks ago. Dinner had happened, they'd started to talk, then he'd paid her outrageous compliments and the two of them had fallen on each other as if ravenous. Other diners had tutted at the passionate kissing. They would have been even more shocked by what had happened back at home.

Sucking. Wanking. Fucking. Cumming. And then long, passionate caresses.

But still, that was three weeks ago. Nothing since then, she thought. Hardly a kiss or a hug, hardly a touch.

So now back to square one.

"We need to talk, and this time you're going to listen," she said, watching his face closely.

"Darling," he said, but she shushed him.

"I'll say it in a way you understand it. No recriminations, no blame, no guilt trips," she said, still wanting to spare him, as she loved him.

"It all comes down to sex. I need to be kissed. I need to be held. Damnit, I need to be fucked. Regularly. Hard. Not just once a month when I feel I have to beg you for it. And I want to find out what we can do to get that back, to get back to how we started."

***

He stretches on the bed, tries to reach for her. But she knocks his hands away, her breasts swaying deliciously as she does so -- the nipples hard and erect, a little raw and red after she fed them to him, his mouth hot and wet on her.

"I'm in charge. We agreed. And you still haven't begged enough."

"Please, oh please, my darling, my love, please ... " he whispers.

***

The talk had been tough. But she had made progress with him. They had gone to bed that night and kissed and cuddled for hours before falling asleep. No sex, but she felt wanted, felt needed. And there had been a revelation.

"Let's try telling each other what we truly want to do in bed. Be completely honest, don't hold back. I promise I won't go nuts over anything," she said.

"We love each other, we know we're good together -- the sex can be amazing. And we'll talk about it as if we were in bed together. Let the words come naturally."

He'd hung back, silent, uncomfortable.

"OK. I'll go first. I feel silly, I don't know why I haven't told you before. This has happened between us but I never told you how much I hunger for it," she said. She could feel her heart pumping, her voice didn't sound like her own inside her head.

She took a deep breath.

"I adore it when you cum on me. On my tits, on my face, in my mouth, I love it. It makes me feel like you own me, that I'm yours. That hot stickiness. I dream of you kneeling above me, wanking that gorgeous cock of yours," she said, her pulse quickening further, almost gasping the last sentence.

"I've never said it, I didn't know what you'd think, you might see me as a slut. But I want it. And I've said it."

The smile on his face -- just perfect, with devilish delight and love shining from it -- let her know she was right to have said it.

"Oh darling," he said. "I always worried whenever it did happen. What you must have thought of me. I'd get tied up in knots about it. Now I just wish I'd known..."

***

"Please," he whimpers. "I can't wait any longer."

"Are you ready?"

"Oh yes ... yes!"

***

That wasn't the revelation. The revelation had been his turn.

"I don't know quite how to say this," he said.

"Just say it. I promise not to judge you on it. It's too important." Still, she felt trepidation, that squirming in the pit of her stomach.

"Ok." He blew his cheeks out, expelled a short sharp breath, like someone about to dive into an icy pool preparing for the shock.

"I dream ... I dream of you fucking me," he stammered. "With one of your dildos. Or a strap-on."

The squirm in her stomach vanished, replaced by a tingling lower down, a sudden rushing.

"I dream of you easing gently into me, then fucking me harder, harder, faster. Your hand pumping my cock as you plunge in and out of me. Dear God, I want you to fuck me."

She smiled. A sweet, kinky smile.

***

The first push is divine. Her hips ease forward, the harness takes the strain and he groans as he feels the pressure on his arsehole. His legs pressed back against his chest, her hand grasping his cock, the feelings blending and merging.

"Please, fuck me," he whispers.

"I will, my sweet love. I will."

They've spent the afternoon in bed, kissing, touching, stroking. Then she'd turned away, sat on the edge of the bed, opened the drawer in her night stand, and pulled out the strap-on. Big, but not too big. They'd chosen it together. Then there had been lots of fun with lube -- it had gone everywhere.

She feels the harness pushing back against her clit and cunt lips, but the dominant feeling is one of power coursing through her.

She pushes again, and the plastic cock slides deeper into his arse. His hard cock twitches in her hand, seemingly becoming more rigid. Deeper still, and he moans as it fills him. Precum streams from the tip of his prick, and she lifts her hand and licks it, a filament of liquid dangling in the air before breaking like a soap bubble.

And then she is in. Buried deep in her love's bottom, and the look of transported joy on his face tells her he is now hers forever.

And so she begins to rock backwards and forwards, her hand moving on his cock at the same time, a rhythm developing. She dares to push harder, deeper, faster, egged on by his groaning, his moaning, his cries of "Oh God" and "Fuck me, babe!"

His cock seems to grow harder, if that were possible, as she moves faster still, a slapping sound now filling the bedroom as her thigs hit the backs of his legs, a slurping sound as she wanks his shaft, her hand flying up and down. The tip swells, seems almost fit to burst.

"Cum for me, my love. I want that delicious spunk all over me," she says, realising suddenly how wet she is, how hot and wet, and how she needs those hot white ropes to fly up against her.

She drives deep into him, and with a moan verging on a howl he explodes. Cum -- more cum than she has ever seen before -- flies from his cock. She feels it pump through him and spatter against her breasts and belly, burning her skin and setting off her own orgasm as she sees how abandoned he is, how wild. She runs her fingers through it and sucks on them joyfully, loving the taste, loving how much pleasure she has given him.

She slides from him and he sits up. They embrace, skin against skin, hearts beating frantically. Quietly they cling to each other.

"We should talk more often," he says. "I've got some other ideas."