Slick

We were gradually becoming comfortable with each other, she and I. Reacquainted face to face after a year, late in the afternoon of the second day, our fiery passions cooled from their initial frantic white-heat to a more manageable sedate sensuality. I'd finally gentled my over-eager tongue enough to hear the soft sighs and catches in her throat that signaled her orgasm, with her legs spread open for me and her hips held still by my hands, her back arched stiff and all ten of her fingertips pulsing delicate indentations into my skull.

I was in heaven. Her subtle scent invaded my nostrils and her juices were smeared from cheek to cheek, chin to nose. Her swollen labia yawned wide and welcoming and glistening, but I knew without her having to tell me that her jutting clitoris wouldn't take kindly to any further touches, at least quite yet. I grazed the inside of her thighs with soft kisses as I watched the entrance to her vagina repeatedly wink at me. Two large drops of lubrication followed shiny trails from the bottom of her inflamed vulva down to the bedsheets.

I sighed my own deep breath of satisfaction and moved my body atop hers, my weight poised on my outstretched arms and my knees. Her face was still flushed. Her eyes searched my face. Smiling eyes. Happy eyes. She raised her right hand to touch two fingertips to my lips, pausing to let me kiss them, then held my face between her hands.

"I love you," I told her, and she smiled in her silent cherubic way and closed her eyes, and I felt her feet hook in behind my knees and attempt to draw my hips -- and my erection -- closer to her hot center.

Her eyes opened. "How do you want me?" she whispered. "Tell me. Just tell me."

I hesitated only briefly. "Hold your knees up," I told her. Her hands left my face, and I felt the inside of her legs scrub against my hips. Her face asked the question, and I answered. "Higher," I said. "Pull your knees higher and closer to your chest."

Now I felt the wet heat of her open vulva against the bottom side of my erection. I nestled my hips down and notched my shaft between those well-licked labia, momentarily closing my eyes to drink in the sensations, then forcing them open again. I had to watch her face now. I had to.

"Don't move," I told her, and then I began to caress her with my cock. At first with the barest of contact, just a feathery hint of rippled skin against crimson slickness. Just a promise of things to come. Her eyes were glued to mine. We savored each other.

On the next upstroke I edged my hips a fraction of an inch lower. Without looking I knew that my mushroom- shaped cockhead was now gliding in the furrow between her labia. Again and again I traveled the same journey, my cockhead beginning near the threshold of her vagina, feeling the heat from within, and slowly moving upward, spreading her lips, slickering her juices along my shaft until I encountered the hard nubbin of her clitoris, then continuing onward until her clit was midway on my shaft and her teeth were visibly biting down on her lower lip.

And then my cock retreated, her clit gently scraping up my shaft and my cockhead reannouncing its presence to her labia, until my movements again paused and I was poised there, right there, a mere small hip thrust away from solidly penetrating her with my hardness. It was an expectant pause, a rest of a few mere rapid heartbeats, but it was enough to tell her that I was there. I was there, and I could take her any time I wished. Any time she wished.

I kept this up, this delicious tantalizing teasing, for a minute or an hour. It makes no difference how long, even if I was aware of time, and I wasn't. She kept biting down on her lower lip and she held her knees high and still and waiting, and at some point there was no other choice on one of those upward journeys but to make that slight detour and bury my cock inside her. Her mouth opened wide and her vagina clutched slickly at me, and we both knew my end was near.

I tried to keep in control, of course. I had all the best of intentions. I would make love to her like this for an hour. Two hours. I would stroke her shallow and deep, slow and fast, with small maddening circles and with straight-ahead powerful plunges that flicked against her quivering cervix. I would make her cry out for me. I would feel her body shudder with another climax more intense than the last.

But it was not to be, not this afternoon. My cock found her wetter than I'd ever before known, all silky and calling to me. She felt me harden, felt my orgasm build. "Take me," she demanded. "Do it." And she continued to hold her knees high and give herself to me, and I took it. I took it all.

It was an orgasm that announced its arrival from a distance. It began deep in my body, that spreading heat and clenched muscle gripping of my belly, that uncontrollable urge to drive mmy cock so deep, so strongly, that she would know my passion for her. "Now!" I told her, "Now!" and those last few barely controlled thrusts just gave way to one last strong, straining push to be there, to take her, to possess her body and empty my seed.

And when I released, when I held myself buried and motionless and spurting, she rhythmically pulled on her knees and rocked her hips and clenched her magic muscles around the base of my pulsing shaft. "Take me," she whispered fiercely, "take me."