It was a dark and stormy night…
The wind howled outside, a mournful, yet erotic song that was both hauntingly lonely and powerfully commanding. Sleet slapping against the window glass provided a subtle counterpoint, a tattletale melody, harmonizing with the crackling of the wood in the fireplace.
Occasionally, the crackling gave way to an explosive popping that sent embers shooting upward, illuminating her face in a golden burst.
It was a light and sound spectacular that no nightclub could match; Music to which we loved to dance. Reclined. Supine. Intertwined.
She lay atop the faux fur rug in one of my white dress shirts, each crackle of the fire creating a new, stark, erotic snapshot for my mind to process and store away. Soft hair framing a beautiful face. Pale skin against the crisp shirt. The shadow of her hardened nipples beneath the starched fabric.
My arms found her in the darkness, my lips brushing the smooth skin at her neck. Her lips moved to devour mine, tongue probing. I felt her body against me, her hips pressing in repeated silent urging.
She placed both hands against my shoulders and pressed me onto the rug. I tilted my head back and watched kağıthane escort the upside down image of snow swirling up, accumulating on the quarter pane. Its texture was powdery. Light. Stark against the obsidian night. I felt her breath. Her mouth.
I pushed against the rug with my elbows, raising up just as she enveloped the blood-gorged head between ruby lips. I felt her tongue play along the shaft. I moaned like the wind outside. She sucked me deeper, taking the base of my shaft in one hand and lowering her hot mouth down the rest. Her eyes watched me, studied my every reaction. She was welcoming me into her comfort; I was luxuriating in her shelter.
She turned slowly, lifting one leg over and settling in reverse on top of me. I lifted the shirttail and sampled both of the offered buds. I pursed my lips and blew softly. Her nether lips parted against the urging of my tongue and she bathed my chin in a warm wash of desire.
Her vocal pleasure vibrated along my hardened shaft and she took me even deeper as her body shuddered, shaking not from the cold of the night but from the heat of my mouth.
The storm had intensified.
She turned away from the şişli escort fire, pressing her mouth to mine, combining our flavors as her fingers gently wiped the traces of her passion from my cheeks. Her tongue coaxed life from mine and they danced together before surrendering the shelter of the kiss. She moved over me again, this time with her hands against my shoulders and her legs parted over my tumescent desire.
She wore nothing under the shirt. I wore nothing but a light sheen of perspiration that had little to do with the fire.
I felt the brief sensation of her wetness against my hardness before she raised up on her knees and drew me into her. Tight. Slick. Velvet.
The staccato precipitation beat against the house, wanting to join us. Inside, the atmosphere was hot. From the fire? From us?
A dancing amber light washed over the beautiful creature riding me, her face frozen in a pleasure mask. My hands sought her breasts and found only fabric. The storm had infected me. Possessed of the violence outside, I ripped the shirt open, sending the buttons scattering like ice pellets against the hardwood floor. I kneaded her soft breasts in my hands. I needed to escort istanbul feel them against my lips.
Pressing the nipple with my tongue, I pushed it deep into her breast, then closed my lips around the aureole and slowly sucked it back into my mouth.
She moaned and I felt her react, gripping me harder inside her, grinding her hips. Her mortar. My pestle.
We were both beyond words, beyond any outside forces, but keenly cognizant of each other. Our universe stopped at the boundary of our skin and merged at its juncture. Her eyes were locked on mine. She knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling, even as I understood her wordless desire. In this brief moment, there was no storm, no fire, no house, no universe. We were alone in each other.
I could feel her climax building before I heard it. Her eyes opened wide, her face a mixture of surprise and pleasure and pain and hunger and need and comprehension.
Then I heard her.
I love that sound. And as I heard it, I joined her, filling her with a hot wash and my own animal cries of passion spent.
Then she lay still against me, breathing heavily against my own rapidly rising and falling chest. My fingers felt the dampness of her skin.
The fire had died down to glowing embers. The wind outside had become a gentle purr.
Our lips were perfectly aligned and we kissed as if all time had been suspended.
Another storm was coming and we let it build slowly.