by Clara James
One of his hands was at my hip and could no doubt feel the gently undulating motion that had overwhelmed any conscious ability to prevent it. But again, he did the unexpected, rather than pulling me more firmly to him and grinding against me, his fingers continued their exquisitely tender stroking. He traced the top of my panties before softly making his way down the seam and trailing the arch of the elastic which clung to the top of my leg. As he bought his hand around the back and the curve of my bottom, he slipped the tip of his index finger beneath the fabric and scorched the flesh with a liquid fire.
I’d never known a sensation quite like that; never realized a touch that was so barely there could be felt so powerfully. With a low, rumbling moan of pleasure, my hips instantly bucked and my mound bumped the hot, throbbing swell of his groin.
“Hmm,” he chuckled, pulling away from my mouth. “Sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to startle you.”
I didn’t contradict him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I was embarrassed to admit that the slightest touch of his finger on a tiny piece of skin at the edge of my bottom had turned me on as much as it had.
He didn’t seem perturbed though, and as both hands began to work their way up my back, he gripped the clasp of my bra. My breath and pulse were racing as heat flushed my cheeks, flooded my solar plexus and crept into the crotch of my underwear. He freed my breasts, guiding the straps down my arms and allowing the bra to drop to the floor beside my dress.
For several seconds, he didn’t touch me, didn’t move nor did he speak. Then, gradually, he dipped his head. Again, he surprised me by ignoring the obvious. Rather than honing in on a nipple, he gently caressed the side of his face across the front of one breast and pressed his lips to the outer edge, just beneath my armpit. His mouth continued to draw an invisible path of kisses down the curve and eventually beneath my breast, before coming back up the valley between them. He treated the opposite sphere of smooth, tender white flesh to the same treatment before cupping the weight of both breasts in his warm, sure hands. It was only then that he brought his face to one nipple. He began by teasing it lightly with his tongue, light flicks that stiffened it to an even more rigid peak.
Listlessly, my head flopped back and my hand swept up to the back of his neck, rubbing in leisurely circles at the edge of his hairline. As the warmth and wetness of his mouth enveloped my tight bud and he began to suck enthusiastically, I inhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, God,” I whimpered.
I lost myself to that feeling for quite some time, exactly how long I’m unsure. I know that Preston took his time over both breasts, massaging them with soothing, soft hands and simultaneously sucking, licking and kissing with an eager mouth that set me aflame with restlessness. And at some point, the realization that I’d been passively accepting a lot of pleasure, but offering very little in return, kicked in.
As he continued to memorize my bosom with his fingers, lips and tongue, I continued to gently stroke the nape of his neck. My free hand meanwhile drifted down his torso, over his hip and around to his backside. I found his butt rounded and deliciously firm. I grasped it firmly, causing him to groan against the inner curve of my right breast. Pleased with his reaction, I curled my fingers back round to the front. Slipping my hand over his groin, I stroked gently up and down the firm ridge I found. Then, I carefully placed a finger beneath the fabric of his fly and grasped the zipper.
Feeling this, Preston’s head shot up. “Not yet,” he softly said, his hand covering mine and gently pulling it away. “Not yet,” he repeated, smiling now as he continued to grip my fingers and brought them up to his face. With heavy-lidded eyes, he glanced down at my hand, before dropping his mouth to it and pressing his lips to each of the four knuckles.
More than a little shell-shocked, I must have been looking quizzically at him. But he didn’t let that distract him. When he’d finished kissing the back of my hand, he turned it over and stroked his bottom lip against the inside of my wrist. My eyes instantly closed shut and I exhaled breathlessly. I felt him smile against my skin, before finding my pulse with the tip of his tongue. At the time, I was in a haze of pleasure and anticipation; and wasn’t able to figure out how he seemed to know exactly where and how to touch me. All I knew was that his body was familiar with mine in a way I couldn’t understand. It was almost as if we’d made love countless times before. And yet, the experience maintained the excitement and thrill of being brand new for both of us.
Eventually, he released my hand and began to unbutton his own shirt. When I noted what he was doing, I tried to help, but my hands were trembling violently and I didn’t manage much more than pushing the cotton from his shoulders. When my eyes met the expanse of chest before me, I sucked in a breath that refused to be expelled again. He was beautiful. I’m sure he would prefer a more masculine description, but there really is no other word for it.
I’d realized he was in shape and trim, but those shirts concealed something I could never have imagined lay beneath the straitlaced exterior I’d seen up until then. The muscles of his shoulders were strong and defined, leading to smooth, hard planes of pecs. Below that, his abdomen contained six beautifully sculptured ab muscles. Nowhere on his belly or his hips was there an ounce of spare flesh; everywhere was sleek, taut skin. Unable to resist its call, my fingers carefully examined his body; my fingertips tracing every line of hard muscle.
He, meanwhile, was looping both arms around my waist and tugging me close. With our bodies pressed together, I wiggled my hips over his groin and stifled a moan as my breasts met his hard chest; hot skin on hot skin. My hands were caught between our joined abdomens and I moved them around his oblique’s. He chuckled and squirmed slightly under my light touch and I realized he was ticklish. For some reason, that made him even more attractive in my eyes and I found myself grinning broadly up at him.
“Hey,” he attempted to grumble, but his smile gave the game away; he wasn’t really disgruntled.
“Hey,” I echoed in a lighter tone.
For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something more. But he remained quiet, keeping his hold of my waist as he slowly sank down to his knees.
Chapter Four
Seeds Of Desire
With his head level with my panties, I was suddenly uncomfortable. He would no doubt be able to smell the musky scent of my arousal and he was very close to feeling just how wet the crotch of my underwear was. However, as I tried to step back, he continued to hold me at my waist.
“I want you right here,” he softly said, before kissing my abdomen. “Trust me,” he added, his words muffled with his lips still attached to my skin.
Once I’d stopped my feeble attempt to move away from him, his hands slid over my hips and eventually down to my legs. He focused first on the right leg, taking the top of the hold-up and slowly rolling it down. When it reached my ankle, he lifted my foot, removed my shoe and tossed the nylon onto the floor. He repeated the slow sensual act with my left leg. He then kept my leg in his hand once he’d stripped it of clothing. In fact, he eased it a touch higher, eventually placing the back of my knee over his shoulder.
I could do nothing but stare down at him, feeling a little unsteady on the one foot that was still on the ground. The top of his head turned to my inner thigh that was now close to his cheek, he then began to trail open-mouthed kisses upward. My breath caught noisily in the back of my throat with every tease of his lips and quick lap of his tongue. Inching higher and higher, until he reached the edge of my panties.
By that point, he must have known just how aroused I was. My drenched underwear was no more than an inch from his face. However, no smart remark; no cocky, gloating comment came from him. Instead, he simply hooked his two index fingers on either side of the white lace and began to ease the panties from my hips.
Just like the hold-ups, he disrobed me slowly, seeming as though he had all the time in the world and wanted to savor every second of it. And when I was finally completely naked before him, he continu
ed to take his time. Now, tossing my right leg over his shoulder and treating it to the same delightful trail of his mouth.
“Oh, God,” I gasped, when his lips were just a breath away from my sex. He still wasn’t quite touching that place that was so desperate for him, but he was close enough to make me wonder if it was possible to die from sexual anticipation. With trembling hands, I cupped either side of his head, and simply held it, ignoring the urge to direct him. God knows, he didn’t need me to; he knew exactly where he was going and how he wanted to get there.
When the heat of his tongue finally ventured between my slick folds, I held back a screech of joy, my eyes clamping shut so I could focus on nothing but the feeling of him. As he slowly lapped up to my clitoris, he hummed slowly and when he hit that swollen bud of nerve endings, I unconsciously bucked as if I’d been slapped on the behind.
I was sure I could feel him chuckle against me, but he didn’t pull back and didn’t remove the pressure of his mouth. He seemed to sense how sensitive I was; how close; how much I needed the sensation of release. Preston’s tongue began a game of tag with my clit, swirling over it or tapping it; his movements gradually increasing in pressure, but always maintaining control.
Control was something I was quickly losing. My hands were moving in hurried circles, mimicking the motion of his tongue and messing his hair in the process. As he edged me higher and higher to the peak, I felt the back of my legs quaking. It was causing my whole body to shake and I felt sure I was about to fall.
While my breath started to come in heavy and strangled pants, my head flopped back. With my face turned to the ceiling, I felt Preston’s hands move over my buttocks and up to the small of my back. He tugged me closer to him, as he moaned gently against my body.
That sound and the vibration it caused was enough to send me into a whimpering, breathless mess. “Ugh,” I moaned. “God, I...Preston!” White flashes of light sparked in front of my eyelids and the trembling of my legs became violent in their intensity. My whole body constricted and my hands still feverishly stroked through his gorgeous, soft hair.
When the sound of my own heartbeat began to give way to other noises and an awareness of the world began to return, I gradually opened my eyes. Peering down, I found Preston’s head still pressed to my groin, only not as intensely as before. Now he was tenderly kissing my outer sex, making his way out to the crease of my leg, then the other, and finally up to my mound. By the time he’d finished this journey, I was soothed, temporarily satisfied and possessed a burning desire to treat him to an equally intimate experience. So, as he began to straighten, I began to sink to my own knees.
He gave me an amused quirk of an eyebrow, as I hungrily pressed my lips to his as our faces passed one another. It was brief, but I hoped it communicated the depth of my gratitude for the way he’d so tenderly worked his magic. If not, perhaps what I had up my own sleeve would demonstrate it beyond a doubt.
I tried to undress him as slowly as he had me, knowing what that luxurious experience had done for my arousal; but my fingers were nowhere near as controlled as his were and I fumbled quickly with his belt. Once his pants were unfastened, I gripped the fabric at his knees and yanked them down to his ankles. Keeping my eyes on him, I slid an index finger into the thick waistband of his boxers and ran it teasingly from left to right, stretching the material just slightly.
He swallowed, as he appeared to have difficulty regulating his breathing. The tent at the front of his shorts was significant and I imagined he was getting very uncomfortable in there. However, I ratcheted up the tension just a notch more, trailing my tongue over the arch of his hipbone, before finally tugging his underwear done to meet his pants.
“Ugh,” he groaned in relief, his shaft springing free from the black cotton boxers.
As it did, my fingers stilled. He was huge, bigger than any other man I’d been with. He was wonderfully thick, too. Veins standing proudly, just waiting to be licked. His shaft was rigid with a slight upward curve; and the soft, domed head was sleek and beckoning. It, like his chest, was a vision to behold. Framed at his pubic bone by neat curls of almost jet black hair and joined at the base by his tender, pulsing twin sacks. He smelled clean, but with the faint odor of masculine sweat and musk.
More than a little worried about how well I’d be able to perform given his size, I tentatively began by lapping at the very tip of him, finding it damp. He shuddered at my touch and I felt emboldened. Taking my tongue on a clockwise trip, I circled his head then switched direction. I continued to do this a couple more times, hearing him rumble deep in his chest, I took that as a sign he was enjoying it. Then, I became braver and carefully wrapped my lips around his glans. With one hand, I grasped the shaft and with the other I cupped his balls, rolling them gently in the palm of my hand.
“Ugh,” he grunted, his hips jerking very slightly. His hands meanwhile had found the sides of my face. However, he wasn’t instructing me with them, nor was he holding me in order to thrust. He simply held me loosely, his thumbs occasionally stroking my cheekbones.
After sucking on his baby soft skin for a few seconds, I tipped back, took a breath and looked up into his face. His expression was one of almost wonderment, and I remember being confused by that. Surely, he’d experienced much better than my feeble attempt at fellatio – I may have been more experienced than when I began escorting, but I was still no expert.
Dismissing the thoughts, I turned my attention back to his erection and this time, as I took his head into my warm mouth, I twisted the hand that held his shaft.
“Arianna,” he mumbled in a half-gasp.
I did it again, moving my wrist in a twisting action and this time stroking my way up as my mouth sucked and my tongue swirled.
“Oh, shit,” he panted. “Wait,” he added, the hands at my face suddenly tightening their grip slightly. “Wait, wait.”
Keeping my hands on him, I carefully removed my mouth, peering up at him in question.
His breath coming hard, he appeared as though he’d just completely a 100 meter sprint. “I...umm...” he managed to say between rapid inhales. “I don’t want this to be over just yet,” he eventually added.
Before I could ask a question, he was bending at the knees and scooping me up. Once he got me in standing position and my fingers had dropped away from his manhood, he smiled warmly. Then turning me, he backed me gradually toward the bed.
I allowed him to lead me back and lay me down on the soft mattress. Instinctively, I was already parting my legs, but he didn’t immediately slip between them. Instead, he nestled by my side. Leaning on one hand, he used the other to smooth over my abdomen, while his mouth attached once more to my breast.
I tried to touch him, but it wasn’t easy in my position. All I could really do was stroke the arm that was at my waist and clutch at the back of his head.
Soon, however, his hand was moving, working its way lower, gently making its way over my mound, before fingers began to slip between my dampness. He circled my clitoris, which was almost still as sensitive as it had been under the attention of his mouth. Then, the pads of two fingers began to move lower and I arched my back, tilting my entrance to him in welcome.
It was only his index finger to begin with, slowly sliding into my wetness, gradually working its way deeper as it stroked my channel. Then, eventually, he introduced a second finger and carefully moved both in a circular motion, stretching me; preparing me for something larger. My hips were still tipped up to him and his actions were accompanied by my soft sobs of pleasure.
All the time, he continued to taste my breasts, moving from one to the other, always finding new places to tease and never neglecting even an inch of skin. By the time he moved to my sternum, then up to my throat and then the underside of my chin, his fingers were slowly stroking in and out in a rhythm as old as time itself. It felt good, it felt really good. But I needed something more – and I was desperate to give him something too.
“Please,” I choked o
ut, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. “Please, Preston.”
He didn’t make me beg. He was already moving, kicking off his pants, shoes and boxers. Eventually, his fingers left me and he quickly disposed of his socks, too. Then, gracefully, he rolled on top of me, his thick erection trapped against my inner thigh and most of his weight braced on the hands he placed right next to my shoulders.
My own hands stroked up his forearms, eventually gripping his biceps as best I could. Lifting my head, I nibbled at his neck and shoulder, mumbling nonsense words of encouragement, as I waited for him to make us one.
He shifted his hips with ease and his bulbous glans seemed to find my willing entrance without any assistance, from his hands or mine. However, he didn’t rush this last step. Just as he had with everything until that moment, he took his time and exercised incredible control.
He moved slickly with our combined arousal, but he was still careful as he slowly dipped just the tip, back and forth, going a touch deeper each time, feeling me softly yielding to him. “Hmm,” he moaned, taking my left earlobe into his mouth and sucking seductively.
I bucked my hips, trying to edge him further. I whimpered as he delved in another inch. I was completely open to him, I knew that I could now take him all the way. And I guess he must have sensed it too, because he suddenly pushed his hips to mine and buried himself to the hilt. We both cried out, his a grunt of intensity and mine a squeal of delight. I’d never known a feeling quite like it, so deliciously full; so complete, so right.
We remained that way for a while, his mouth covering mine. Sharing noisy, wet, passionate kisses, we both relished the sensation of being one. But soon, I began to get restless, I needed to feel him moving inside me and my hips began to jerk beneath him.
He heeded that silent cry, lifting his upper body so he could brace his thrusts on his arms. He stared intently at me, as he gradually eased back, watching the changing expressions as I experienced each sensation intensely. I felt the tiny ridges of his manhood stroking my G-spot before almost disappearing into me entirely. However, with a perpetual motion, it returned just as it had left.