Wearing my clothes

As my lips and tongue traverse the landscape of your thigh, moving slowly upward, I watch your face. Your eyes close even tighter, and I know you’re fully awake now. I let my hand scout ahead of my mouth, slowly inspecting and preparing the terrain ahead of my hungry lips. When my fingers finally reach the edge of the borrowed boxers you shift a bit more. Opening yourself, offering, while still pretending to sleep.

My fingers pull the cotton away from the soft, sensitive skin at the top of your thigh. My lips follow close behind and soon I’m licking the concave area where your inner thigh meets your hips. It’s my favorite part of your body, and I wonder, not for the first time, if you would let me drink from here. I lose myself momentarily in the image of you completely naked, and covered in champagne. A small pool of effervescent liquid rests in the cup that I am now, fruitlessly, trying to sip from.

My lips, tongue, and teeth have caused you to betray yourself. You let out a small moan when I nip at the sensitive area, and I see your eyes open for a moment before you clamp them shut again.  One of my hands slides underneath you feeling the muscles, and tilting your hips upward. My other hand, feeling restless, decides to remove the obstructing clothing. It pulls the underwear, too hard, to the side, and I hear a tear. I can feel heat from you, so close to my face that I turn my lips from my empty cup, to find you now completely exposed to me.

My tongue darts out and I lick the bottom of your lips, lightly parting them and just putting the tip of my tongue inside. You’re moist, hot, sweet, tender. I love the way you taste, and the first light flick of my tongue isn’t enough. I cover you with my lips and let my tongue move slowly from the bottom, lightly dipping inside, up, slower than you want, to the top. I find the spot I’m looking for and your hands move to the back of my head, pulling me deeper between your thighs. I hear your breathing quicken, and I start slowly teasing you bottom to top, occasionally stopping to suckle. My hand underneath you grips firmly, kneading, and pulling you hard into me.

I feel myself growing, and I want to feel you wrapped around me while I move inside you. I calm myself, and stop thinking about how you would grip me warm, soft, and firm around my length, but this isn’t about me, or us. It’s about you, and I focus on my task.

My restless hand decides to aid me, and a finger enters you slowly. With the help of my hand I can let my tongue concentrate on the tiny bud at the top, it’s become hard now, and I can easily find it with a featherlike flick of my tongue.

I tell my hand underneath you what to do, and it moves from where it was supporting you. It slides up your smooth flat stomach, lifting my shirt in the process, and finds the underside of your right breast. It tickles and teases you for a moment before moving on to its goal. I find the hardened nipple easily, and lightly pinch it causing you to bite your lip to stop from making too much noise. Your nipples are sensitive, and it surprises me that you enjoy the exquisite sharp pain that pinching them provides you. I don’t like to see you biting your lip and holding back, so when my hand slides over to the other breast I pinch it harder than I did the first, finally eliciting a small moan from you as your skin quakes slightly.

I pull my mouth away from you for a moment, and tell you to remove the shirt. When you sit up to lift it off I press my finger even deeper inside you and rub my thumb on the sensitive spot I found earlier. I’ve caught you just as you had the shirt over your head and you throw your shoulders back, forcing your breasts outward, pushing them towards me with your arms caught above your head. I think for a moment that I should hold you in this position, but I can’t see your face this way, and I like to see your reactions. I slow my hand down enough for you to finally get yourself out of my purloined shirt, and you fall back down into the cushions. I look at you for a few moments, my finger moving inside you, my thumb rubbing just enough to keep you ready for my tongue. You look gorgeous, naked except for the pair of now ruined boxers that barely hang onto the top of your slim hips.  You stare at me with longing, almost angry, because you know I’m toying with you. I can tell that at any moment you might decide that this part of the game is over, and you may demand to have the rest of me inside of you. Your face almost looks panicked, wanting, needing for me to stop playing.

I lower my head again, and drink deeply. Sucking firmly, and licking at a maddening pace. I slide my finger in and out of you more quickly. Deeper inside and I can feel you tightening on me. My tongue begins to push more firmly, each lap pressing into the sensitive spot harder and harder. With the shirt gone my free hand is now able to take control of your breasts. It plays lightly on your nipples, teasing them each in turn until they ache and cause you to make small noises each time it moves from one to the other. It pinches and plays across them lightly pulling on each one until I think you can’t take it, and then switching to the other side. 

You moan loudly, it’s a sound of urgency, and I know if I don’t increase my pace that you’ll end my fun soon. My restless hand notes the urgency in your tone and pulls out of you completely, only to add a second finger before plunging back. With two fingers inside you I can feel your muscles tightening and pulling at them. When I pull all the way out you let out a whimper, that’s quickly followed up with a satisfied moan when I slide them all the way back inside. 

I lick harder concentrating on one spot. Your hips begin to shift back and forth, trying to anticipate my tongue. Your hands pull my head into you even farther, crushing my mouth against you. My fingers begin to move quickly, vibrating in and out of you rapidly. Your thighs close tightly over my ears making it difficult to move my hand, but I can tell you’re close to the end, and I speed up.

You arch your back, your thighs are a vice, your hands are iron on the back of my head, and I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. I feel your muscles contract on the two fingers that are inside you, and I know you’re coming. I lick even faster now, more urgently, forcing my tongue against you, and making you cry out. You remove a hand from the back of my head and cover my hand on your breast with it. Your fingers encourage mine to pull the nipple away from the breast, stretching it upwards and pinching at the same time.
         
You throw your head back, and yell. You’re so tight I can barely move my fingers in and out of you. My tongue continues feverishly lapping at you causing your entire body to spasm.
         
You ask me to stop, but this is my favorite part of the game. I pull my fingers out of you and force my tongue inside, at the same time pinching your nipple hard and pulling on it a bit more. You whimper, begging for an end, but I don’t believe you, and continue what I’m doing. My tongue and fingers have reversed their roles, and I press lightly on you with my thumb. 
         
You’re trying to make me stop and I pull on your nipple one last time before moving my arm down to encircle your thigh. I hold your legs open while I continue dipping my tongue inside of you.
         
My thumb presses harder on you, and you finally cry out the way I’ve been waiting for. Coming for the second time you actually scream, and I worry, for a moment, if the neighbors are home. I can feel your body shuddering against me and I pull away from you. I stop only long enough to kiss at my empty cup once more, which causes you to jerk back from me. Your body is overly sensitive now.

Your thighs are still shaking, and your breathing is heavy and labored.  You spend a few moments slowing your breath and getting your muscles under control, your legs still have small spasms running through them.
         
I stand up from between your thighs and gaze down at your face. It’s red and flushed, and there’s a light coating of sweat on you. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful.
         
“What the fuck was that?” you ask, looking up at me with an expression of surprise on your face.
         
“That’s what happens when you steal my favorite T-shirt.”