November 17, 2009

This war I fight, I can no more

My skin is on fire. My heart is pounding, my breath short. She caused this.

She yielded softly to my kisses. She yielded and it seemed as if she had no interest. She does not raise her hands to my sides, does not pull my head to her. She passively accepts my lips. I keep kissing, desperate for a response, desperate to drive some desire into her. I ask, "What must I do for you to engage?" She breathes, "Engage?"

I brush her nipples through both layers of her cotton t-shirt. She arches, almost imperceptibly. Engaged.
I let my hand graze her side, push up her shirt, finally, finally brush her skin. Her heat amazes me. It's a dream.

I push her shirts up over her head, almost roughly. She grumbles a bit. I push up her bra. I can barely see her in the dark, though I know she prefers it that way. I can see she's soft. Her breasts are beautifully round, her nipples erect. I can't not have them in my mouth. I touch a nipple with my tongue, and she arches deeply. She writhes. She pushes her breasts at me, wanting more contact. I take as much of her into my mouth as my mouth will hold, more even. Heaven.

I want more of her. I brush kisses down her stomach, grazing her tattoos. Those tattoos....oh. I no longer just want her, I need her. Must taste her, must please her. Please?

"No," she says. "No," crushes me. I push kisses past the line of her pants...just a little. Crossing no boundaries. I kiss those gorgeous hips, I breathe in her heady scent. "No," she tells me.

I bite, just a soft bite, at her through her pants. I pray for the cloth to just dissolve, melt away. It will not. She said no.

I surface to kiss her. Again, she yields. I place my hand where my mouth was, pushing, rubbing, trying to please her. Still no permission.

I lay between her legs, kissing that yielding mouth. She and I have the same thought. She rolls me under as I roll her over me to straddle. Seamless. I cannot keep my hands off of her skin. So hot.

She's kissing me back. I grab her hips, push them against me. I am desperate to please her. I want to hear her orgasm. She rocks with my motions. She devours my mouth, her hands pulling at my hair, caressing my face. I feel her hand slide to my neck. She gently squeezes. She tests me, tightening a little. My head is thrown back, awaiting her administrations. Those kisses, the rocking, the caresses. I swoon. She is practically holding me up, against her.

We kiss, and it is over. I cannot please her tonight. My skin is on fire. I ache for her. We go to lay down. I fear that she will move away if I reach for her. She moves close, allows contact. She feels guilty, as do I for putting her in this position.

The guilt does not stop me from wanting more though.


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