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Rated: 18+ · Other · Erotica · #1581350
Why sometimes it's good to be late...
I walk into a room filled with soft candelight. Flickering shadows tantalize and the air is scented with vanilla and cinnamon.

"Mmmmm." The groan comes involuntarily, growl-like, from my throat as I drink in the sight of you on your hands and knees looking back at me.

Creamy skin aglow through lace. Lace edges leading the eye down between open legs. Firm thighs supporting curvy hips. Perfection in womanhood before me.

"Perhaps I'm not sorry I'm late." I finally manage to speak as I slip off my shoes.

"Dinner is gonna be late," you say playfully. "dessert first..."

I gently climb onto the bed. Such beautiful skin, and I with only 2 hands and one mouth.

I can undress later.

"Where to begin?" I breathe heavily down the covered valley of your center. I know you can feel my hot breath on that sensitive skin high up on your inner thighs.

With fingertips lightly on the backs of your knees, I gently rake my bent fingers slowly up the backs of your thighs. Short nails leave soft tracks that end at lace.

Laying my hands on that perfectly shaped ass. You teasingly push back against my contact. Squeezing and massaging.

Needing to feel skin, I slowly trace below the edge of your lingerie. My fingertips start at the outsides of your hips and slowly trace the lacy curve inward. Over the rise of your ass. Meeting just before the middle of you. Downwards, feeling your heat. Outwards to the soft skin of your inner thighs and back down to your knees.

Your body shudders from the dual sensations of arousal and tickle. I revel in the responsiveness of your body and am wonderstruck that you have made me part of your life.

I lower my face and place my mouth on lace, exhaling through the fabric into you, adding my heat to yours. I can taste you through the thin barrier and it only heightens my own desire. You moan and push back against my face. I run my tongue hard up the length of you, tasting you, knowing that you can feel just enough of what I'm doing. Sensing you wanting more.

Teasingly moving my mouth away. Licking and nibbling the bottom of your cheeks. The tops of your thighs. Working my way back to center, kissing - gently biting - toungeing, alternating sides of you.

Slipping two fingers under the lace high on your ass. Again following the lace line I move down. Finding heat. Wetness. Gently massaging. Feeling your arousal build. Needing to taste you, I bring my fingers to my mouth. I suck you from them greedily.

I gently peel open the velcro closure between your legs, applying sweet pressure to your Mons. You inhale sharply as cool air meets hot wetness. Sweet musk mingles amidst the candles' aromas.

Your body open before me, rational thought is replaced by desire and the need to be one with you.

I fumble the buttons of my jeans open, push the binding fabric down to my knees. I move close behind you, knowing I should go slow. You lean back into me, letting me know this is not a time for slow.

Initial contact - heat and wet meet soft-skinned hardness. The all-consuming ecstasy of entrance. Mutual gasps. Pulsing tightness surrounding throbbing skin.

I hold your hips tight against me, barely able to catch my breath.

Souls joined in mutual pleasure given, mutual pleasure received.

Moving in blissful counter motion to you. Knowing this can't last long, I reach down under you and quicken your orgasm. I want to feel those silken constrictions around me.

You grow tighter, wetter. You give yourself over to your climax, body shuddering. In lover's unison, I throb, back arched, filling you with thick heat.
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