This is something I wrote a couple days ago. It might have a couple errors, but I can't be fucked to correct them now. It's smutty. Lol.
You take me by the hand, a soft touch, your fingers caressing the pad of my thumb as you lay me on the bed. My eyes find yours, watch you in anticipation as you bind first one wrist to the headboard, then the other, the silk of the cord you use only adds to my arousal. You are over me as you work, and I lean forward, my whole body moving, working against the binds you've made, to try and kiss you, any part of you. To have any connection to you whatsoever aside from where your fingers graze mine as you finalize the knots.
As I look upon you, you bring something over my eyes, soft, silky. A tie? What is it? I don't think about it anymore, as you caress my body. I half-expect you to bind my feet, leave me helpless, but you don't, and for some reason that excites me more than if you had. I'm wet, so wet. So wanting. Waiting.
Your fingers flit over me, a soft touch here at my cheek, a kiss there by my hip, I moan, soft, almost in audible. But you hear it, your low chuckle tells me you hear it. I feel the bed shift, and your breath is suddenly warm on my face as you whisper "Not yet. Not yet." That shift again, an absence of breath that isn't mine, something wet touches my peaked breast.
Your tongue.
I groan, my back arching, attempting to force more contact, any sort of contact. You place a hand on my shoulder and push, I resist momentarily, but sink back into the bed, waiting. Always waiting. Your hands are on my thighs now, massaging the soft flesh there, there. So close, but so far. I'm wetter now, if that's even possible. You could enter me now, and there would be no resistance.
But you don't, you hold back, move between my legs, place them around your waist. But you're not done. You're not even undressed. I mewl in frustration, and there's that laugh again. The sound that means 'No, you can't have what you want. No you can't get this. No.' It's so frustrating, and try to grate on you, to feel some part of you against my core. Against me.
My clit grazes a seam on your jeans and I buck, ecstatic at the contact, but when I attempt to go back to it, it's gone. You're holding yourself away from me. And suddenly you're gone from between my thighs, punishing me it would seem with the far off sound of a zipper, a whisper of soft cloth dropping to the floor. I whimper, missing your presence, and a soft plea escapes my lips. "Please?"
"Beg. Beg for it, kitten." Your voice is almost a purr, so close to my ear but there's no tell-tale mist of breath.
That huskiness makes me weak, my knees, my lips, my breasts tremble with want, passion. There's that whimper again, dripping from my lips the way I'm sure my sweetness drips down there. My skin prickles, every nerve ending open, waiting for your touch. Your fingers grasp my nipple, tugging softly at first then harder.
"Harder..." The word whispers from my lips, answered by a finger against them. Silencing me. I kiss it, trying to pull it into my mouth, make love to it the way I hope you will to me. Soon. That chuckle. Oh, I could hate that husky play of sound.
Or love it.
The finger is gone, and my tongue snakes out, wetting my lips only to touch something else. My tongue reaches further, tentatively, wanting. Your cock is like satin on my tongue, the finest Egyptian cotton couldn't compare. Hands caress my hair, tugging, giving me a silent cue.
Within moments you are inside my mouth, filling it just the way I hope you will fill me soon. Slowly, you begin rocking, pushing further, deeper. I groan around you, taste you. I writhe, my knees together feet nearly tucked under my buttocks. Trying to lessen the pressure deep within me. The way you feel in my mouth, my throat, is almost unbearable. I love it. I never want it to stop. All that exists is pleasuring you, pleasing you. You.
You rock deeper, I open my throat, accept you because to struggle would be pointless. Moans reach my ears, soft, deep. So unbelievably sexy as your hips begin to move faster, fucking my throat. I don't mind. In this moment I live for you, for your cock.
Every moment is ecstasy, and torture. My tongue works against the underside of your shaft, doing its best. You groan in pleasure, and suddenly the blindfold is gone, my eyes fly to yours and you still, jerking once, twice in my mouth. I swallow, smiling up at you.
You take me by the hand, a soft touch, your fingers caressing the pad of my thumb as you lay me on the bed. My eyes find yours, watch you in anticipation as you bind first one wrist to the headboard, then the other, the silk of the cord you use only adds to my arousal. You are over me as you work, and I lean forward, my whole body moving, working against the binds you've made, to try and kiss you, any part of you. To have any connection to you whatsoever aside from where your fingers graze mine as you finalize the knots.
As I look upon you, you bring something over my eyes, soft, silky. A tie? What is it? I don't think about it anymore, as you caress my body. I half-expect you to bind my feet, leave me helpless, but you don't, and for some reason that excites me more than if you had. I'm wet, so wet. So wanting. Waiting.
Your fingers flit over me, a soft touch here at my cheek, a kiss there by my hip, I moan, soft, almost in audible. But you hear it, your low chuckle tells me you hear it. I feel the bed shift, and your breath is suddenly warm on my face as you whisper "Not yet. Not yet." That shift again, an absence of breath that isn't mine, something wet touches my peaked breast.
Your tongue.
I groan, my back arching, attempting to force more contact, any sort of contact. You place a hand on my shoulder and push, I resist momentarily, but sink back into the bed, waiting. Always waiting. Your hands are on my thighs now, massaging the soft flesh there, there. So close, but so far. I'm wetter now, if that's even possible. You could enter me now, and there would be no resistance.
But you don't, you hold back, move between my legs, place them around your waist. But you're not done. You're not even undressed. I mewl in frustration, and there's that laugh again. The sound that means 'No, you can't have what you want. No you can't get this. No.' It's so frustrating, and try to grate on you, to feel some part of you against my core. Against me.
My clit grazes a seam on your jeans and I buck, ecstatic at the contact, but when I attempt to go back to it, it's gone. You're holding yourself away from me. And suddenly you're gone from between my thighs, punishing me it would seem with the far off sound of a zipper, a whisper of soft cloth dropping to the floor. I whimper, missing your presence, and a soft plea escapes my lips. "Please?"
"Beg. Beg for it, kitten." Your voice is almost a purr, so close to my ear but there's no tell-tale mist of breath.
That huskiness makes me weak, my knees, my lips, my breasts tremble with want, passion. There's that whimper again, dripping from my lips the way I'm sure my sweetness drips down there. My skin prickles, every nerve ending open, waiting for your touch. Your fingers grasp my nipple, tugging softly at first then harder.
"Harder..." The word whispers from my lips, answered by a finger against them. Silencing me. I kiss it, trying to pull it into my mouth, make love to it the way I hope you will to me. Soon. That chuckle. Oh, I could hate that husky play of sound.
Or love it.
The finger is gone, and my tongue snakes out, wetting my lips only to touch something else. My tongue reaches further, tentatively, wanting. Your cock is like satin on my tongue, the finest Egyptian cotton couldn't compare. Hands caress my hair, tugging, giving me a silent cue.
Within moments you are inside my mouth, filling it just the way I hope you will fill me soon. Slowly, you begin rocking, pushing further, deeper. I groan around you, taste you. I writhe, my knees together feet nearly tucked under my buttocks. Trying to lessen the pressure deep within me. The way you feel in my mouth, my throat, is almost unbearable. I love it. I never want it to stop. All that exists is pleasuring you, pleasing you. You.
You rock deeper, I open my throat, accept you because to struggle would be pointless. Moans reach my ears, soft, deep. So unbelievably sexy as your hips begin to move faster, fucking my throat. I don't mind. In this moment I live for you, for your cock.
Every moment is ecstasy, and torture. My tongue works against the underside of your shaft, doing its best. You groan in pleasure, and suddenly the blindfold is gone, my eyes fly to yours and you still, jerking once, twice in my mouth. I swallow, smiling up at you.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
3rd:
Well written indeed.
cookerz:
Wow.