You are walking around the hotel room in nothing but one of my shirts.
I am walking around in nothing but jeans. We embrace and begin a long kiss.
Your hand slides down to my crotch. You feel my surging manhood, and you surge with its jolt to your womanhood.
You break the kiss to purr in my ear. I grasp you by your bottom, pull you into me, and I take your neck with kisses as I whisper into your ear.
I straddle your thigh and grind into you with my hips. I want you to feel all that you have done to me. I want you to feel the force of my desire.
You have spurred me so hard, so beautifully with your words, your sensuality, your strength, your intelligence.
I love all that is fierce and independent and powerful in you...and your wantonness...your unabashed, tomboyish, tomcattish embrace of lustful lovemaking.
You reach down and feel me hard and strong, and I stop you. I pull back from you.
I take you over by the desk. In front of the mirror, I undo the buttons of your shirt, one by one, slowly.
With each undone button, I open the shirt a bit more, just as I want your legs to spread for me when I start kissing you behind your knees, inside your loins.
I love looking at your eyes in the mirror as I take you from behind with kisses and caresses.
When the shirt is undone, I motion you to the bed, and whisper, "I want you to play for me."
You lie on the bed and play with yourself beautifully, sending powerful surges of lust through meI pull off my jeans and I stand before you at the foot of the bed.
I love showing off what you have done to me. I love showing you how to take me.
You urge me on with your own playing, circling yourself, caressing yourself, quickening your pace. I love watching you coyly take yourself, moaning softly.
The erotic spiral begins.
I increase my own tempo, bringing it on, charging myself up.
You echo me in call-and-response, taking yourself more quickly, with more intensity, screwing yourself up tight, adding twist upon twist to the rubber band inside of you that, when released, will set you soaring.
I pump myself up harder and harder, my face scrunching up, all of me taut, stretched out between two poles...my heart and yours.
You know that I am close. You start mouthing words to me, urging me to come, begging me to shoot my juices all over you.
I come right to the edge of the bed, eyeing where I want to cum on you.
But I hesitate. You look so beautiful. I let go of myself and begin to tongue you.
You lie back giving yourself to me. I kneel down giving myself to you.
We slow down our slide down the spiral.
I tongue you tenderly, almost lazily, gradually licking up and down each labial lip, before honing down inside.
Your pussy feels so ripe, so soft.
I split you open, and I marvel at what I see: Your desire, and your clit budding before me.
It's so intimate. I myself am too shy to look for too long.
I insert one, then two fingers into you, and your pussy dances for me, following my lead, pirouetting on my fingers.
We kiss, and you reach for my cock, wanting it inside of you.
I turn you over, on all fours, and you look back at me, smiling.
I signal you with a hand pressed up inside your loins to spread open a bit more, and you do.
I am smiling because I know this will be a fuck that will mean one thing simply: I love you, and I want to give you pleasure, and I want you to feel the power and joy that you have given me.
My hands caress the length of your torso, sliding up your back, with one hand settling on your shoulder, the other grasping your hair.
I enter you, splitting you open, filling you up, deep, beautifully, gloriously.
I know how much you love the feel of my initial entry, and it thrills me too, my own pleasure doubled, tripled by yours.
The last time we did this, midway in our frenzy, the room phone rang....one ring.
I love it that we made the room a concert hall for the music of lovemaking.
Pity the person who lamented our free benefit concert.
Now we resume the concert.