We stand in the living room. A dim light originating from the lamp in the corner casts our shadows across the wall. Its quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen.
I hold her hips as we kiss. By now my hands are underneath her shirt and gripping them ever so slightly. There is something so soft about her hips. It's always the first thing I reach for, unless i took her chin between my thumb and forefinger to bring her lips to mine. I'm romantic like that.
I can feel her breath on my ear as I kiss her neck. I can smell her perfume. The fact that she got it from a rare boutique store, and that it smells like flowers I probably couldn't pronounce makes me want her even more.
The flow of the moment is interrupted by my thoughts. I begin strategically planning my next move; what item i'll take off, where I want her positioned. But it all washes away as she breaks the kiss and looks me in the eye. That look. I know that look.
With her hands on my arms to stabilise, she begins to lower her body, slowly, until she kneels on the floor. I begin to internally resist, feeling guilty that I haven't pleased her first. But I know she won't let me. This is her gift to me.
Her hands trace the outline of my crotch, and I can't help but think how classy her nails make her look. She removes them briefly, curling her hair into a knot behind her head, and gently places them back again. I wonder if she notices i got harder in that brief moment, but I'm distracted by her fingers picking at my belt buckle.
She doesn't struggle. She never does. The whole process is seamless, until my belt is removed, my button undone, and her perfectly manicured fingers gripping the zip at the front of my pants. She looks up at me. She grins. She knows how much I want it. I know how much she wants it.
My pants fall to my ankles. She grips the waistband of my briefs and pulls them down, slowly enough that my erection springs out. I love watching her eyes as it bounces in her face. She doesn't fake it, or scream out what a big cock I have. She craves it. She looks at it longingly as if to say "I want it in my mouth". But she doesn't speak. And I'm grateful. Words would ruin the moment.
It starts with a lick. Gentle. Playful. Teasing. She knows I want to be teased. Her fingers take their place on my shaft. Then a kiss. Then another. Down my length. Her nose gently touching my thigh. The kisses turn into suckles. Her breath caresses my groin, sending a shiver up my spine.
Then she looks at me.
That look. The look that tells me, in this moment, she owns me. I'm hers. It has power. And I like it. I like it because it's fleeting.
Her tongue breaks free of her lips as she traces it back up to the head, not breaking eye contact for a second. I shiver again.
I want to beg. Beg for her to take me in her mouth. But I won't. I know that she will. This isn't about power, its about appreciation. And I don't need to do anything but receive.
Submitted February 26, 2016 at 10:42PM by Eldfell http://ift.tt/1n1M6MU dirtypenpals
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