In the short time they'd been together, she'd already become used to having his touch. Whether they were being intimate or walking in public, talking or eating, always his hands were on her body or his lips, or she was in his embrace.
This, touching him without being touched, felt so strange as to almost feel illicit. The strangeness of it, of flicking her tongue against the fevered bruise her mouth had left without his hands in her hair, gave it power. Recognizing it, she turned her head, dragged the length of her hair against his hip, a deliberate temptation, a playful petty torment. Then she lifted her head, shifted her body and drew the curtain of her hair along his rampant shaft--once, and then again, touching him without her hands, but still touching him, when he couldn't touch her.
Her mind besieged her with myriad possibilities for this play, but she had no interest in toying with him, not tonight, when she could still hear him murmuring 'welcome home' between his breathless moans. So she spent a few more minutes at this, set her lips to the inside of his thigh, just above his knee, and sucked at that nerve bundle until his moans sounded more like cries of need.
Then she couldn't stand it any longer, the way his sounds seemed to drum against her skin and echo in her cunt, and she sat up abruptly, tugged her panties aside, and held herself poised over him. "Don't touch," she commanded, voice rough with wanting him, and then sank down the length of his cock.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six
Date: 2018-11-09 12:20 am (UTC)This, touching him without being touched, felt so strange as to almost feel illicit. The strangeness of it, of flicking her tongue against the fevered bruise her mouth had left without his hands in her hair, gave it power. Recognizing it, she turned her head, dragged the length of her hair against his hip, a deliberate temptation, a playful petty torment. Then she lifted her head, shifted her body and drew the curtain of her hair along his rampant shaft--once, and then again, touching him without her hands, but still touching him, when he couldn't touch her.
Her mind besieged her with myriad possibilities for this play, but she had no interest in toying with him, not tonight, when she could still hear him murmuring 'welcome home' between his breathless moans. So she spent a few more minutes at this, set her lips to the inside of his thigh, just above his knee, and sucked at that nerve bundle until his moans sounded more like cries of need.
Then she couldn't stand it any longer, the way his sounds seemed to drum against her skin and echo in her cunt, and she sat up abruptly, tugged her panties aside, and held herself poised over him. "Don't touch," she commanded, voice rough with wanting him, and then sank down the length of his cock.