For all you white guys out there who don't have the balls...
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I never heard him enter. Soft warm kisses dance upon the back of my neck and sends shimmering rushes through me. A chill runs up my arms as desire heats my belly. Passionate pressure builds in my chest, warm breath tickles my shoulder. I'm captivated with sweet words murmured into my ear. I'll soon burst without release.
" . . . Please, please, please . . . "
Turning to reach for his face, taking it in my hands, I lean in to touch my lips to his. Tracing the tip of my tongue along the tender inner line of his lips. I take my leisure to experience every sensation, drawing in his scent which is beguiling. Feeling his spirit within my grasp, against the length of my body. A soft bite of his lip, I brush my softly parted mouth along the curve of his jaw, pausing just below his ear . . . the most sensitive place - where the pulse beats steady. He sends me to the bedroom where the dimness welcomes me. Glimmering candle-lite casts a soft glow about the room - when he enters the flame sparkles in his eyes. I'm instructed to lay on the bed. Soft sensual music completes the scene.
" . . . Lie on your back and put your hands over your head . . . "
Binding my hands with a scarf, making sure it's tight so that I can barely move my wrists. Tracing fingertips down my arms to my shoulder, stopping too near my breasts. I ache to be touched, but he pauses to cast sweet torture over me. Circling my nipples, they harden in response to the tender touch . . . just the finger tip teases, trails, I can barely feel his touch and yet the fire it stirs is a heat that burns with the purest passion. It's hypnotizing. I realize he's pulling away, open my eyes and I watch him walk out of the room.
" . . . Don't move, not an inch. You know what will happen . . . "
Staring at the door, begging him to return, willing him to return - when he enters again with another scarf. A tingle of fear courses my belly - deep. Sensing my anxiety he takes his time, approaches the bed and seizes my ankles in his hands, wrapping the scarf around each in turn, then tightening it. I lie very still, focusing on his shadow cast by candle-lite.
". . . On the floor, on your knees, sweetheart . . . "
Sitting up, I slip my legs over the side of the bed and stand with weakness. I drop to my knees and as I kneel before him I kiss his inner thighs before his hand grasps my chin, lifting my face toward his.
" . . . Not until I tell you . . . "
I stay still, watching and wanting. Standing before me, his desire is facing me ... so close . . . I cannot touch. Running his fingers through my hair, whispering instruction . . . to be still, to hold my place. Leaning closer to me, he touches the tip of his head to my lips. Still I cannot take him in, sneaking my tongue out to taste. The drip that waits spreads across the tip of my tongue. Holding so still he allows me to taste just a little. His hands grab my hair, pulling my head back and caressing the tip of his head across my lips, but refusing my desire to taste all of him. The skin so warm, firm and yet soft. He twitches against my lips.
Stepping back, he leans down to lift me to my feet. Pulling me close, I feel him push against my bound hands. I hold him, stroking slowly. He caresses the back of my thighs, fingers gripping, moving up to the small of my back. Holding me hard to his body. Grabbing both breasts and kneading gently, watching my eyes, commanding me to keep mine on his own. Grabbing my waist, he turns me toward the bed and bends me over, my bound hands rest on the soft comforter. His fingers explore the swells of my hips, between - a finger quickly drives into me and out again, then moves lower between my thighs. Softly petting, a finger searching and discovering the tender nub. Light - soft - quick - the strokes shimmer across the soft little mound. Lifting and turning me, I stand before him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He releases my hands and unbinds my ankles. I'm in his embrace.