He moves his hand up from the curve of my waist. Placing his fingers round my neck and toying with the bell I wear for him there, he spoons me from behind in the darkened bedroom.
The languid yet determined trail of his warm flesh over my eager skin gives me goosebumps. I won’t ever grow accustomed to his deliciously raw way of loving, the sexuality latent in the air and unspoken desires and demands, my wanton acquiescence.
His hand moves back again to deliberately brush over my nipple, already erect from his attention to me and so sensitive. I long to wriggle and writhe under his feel, but dare not do anything to displease or stop the sensations he is giving me now.
Down, down he moves, circling my belly button playfully. I can almost feel him smile, where his face lays next to my ear. He knows I want more, must have more… but must not demand, or nothing shall be given at all.
Patience has never been one of my virtues, nor am I a particularly virtuous girl.
Touch me! Touch me there! my mind screams. Outwardly, I breathe heavily and try to calmly enjoy what is happening.
He strokes his finger pads down finally, after what seems an eternity. Over my soft, smooth mound, always ready for his inspection.
A satisfied murmur is my reward.
But what is this.. he moves away, hand once again resting on my waist, down, flaring fingers over my hip… moving behind… ahhh.
His forgotten other hand moves from where it lays under the pillow and under me, to cup my breast and toy with my nipple. Just a plaything for him. Meanwhile his fingers continue to move between my legs from where they are exploring now, seeking out my moisture pot which is definitely ready for him.
A finger slowly, softly inserted. Smoothly transitioning in and out. I writhe against him, feeling his heat and my mind working overtime with the sensations pounding through along with the rush of blood.
I can feel him smiling once more, with hot breaths growing increasingly urgent. He wants me.
Removing his fingers he brings them back, towards my bottom. Spreading me there, placing his pussy juice soaked fingers against the puckered entrance. I’m ablaze now, all nerve endings screeching to be satisfied, body undulating with need.
I mew softly. He knows that word does strange things to me, giving me the feeling of filth, being his possession, an object to fuck and use, for him to take advantage of and have completely whenever and however he wants. My juices pool at the entrance of my pussy, missing his touch already.
His fingers press insistently against my rear entrance, until his index finger finds its way through and uses my own juices he has collected as lubricant to work it deeper, wriggling and moving… I can hardly bear to keep as still as I am. Wanting to thrash and buck, for him to fill me and take me immediately, but I know I must be still if I am to please and also get the pleasure I really want from this.
Working a second finger into me, he eventually seems satisfied I am stretched enough… enough for what? Removing his fingers he reaches behind him to get something. My excitement is tangible, pussy aching and clit singing from anticipation.
Then I feel it. The cool, glass rounded nub against my now flexible puckered arse, ready for whatever plundering he has in store. Pushing insistently at it, the glass butt plug slowly slides into my pussy-juice lubricated arse slowly, stretching me even more than his fingers did, while his other hand reassures me by idly toying with my breast.
That feeling, reaching the widest part of the butt plug. It’s pain and pleasure all at once. One instant, a searing stretch; the next, sliding all the way home to the tapered base before the flared stopper. It’s perfection and he knows I love it.
Finally, he flips me over. Gazing at me in the heavily shadowed bedroom, I can just make out his eyes searching my face. We kiss and I throw my arms round his neck.
I know that he is in the mood to fuck me mercilessly, and I am so ready to be his little fuck toy once more.
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