Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Silk Scarves, Part I and II

Part I of this story was written by a woman who invited a man to continue the story. I took up the challenge in Part II.

Part I

You are resting on your back in our bed that has the faint musky scent of our love-making the night before. I am watching you as you doze. The sheet is covering your hips and ass. I smile, admiring your body and remembering.

I reach across your chest…my breasts lightly touching your bare chest. I slide over you reaching into the basket that is beside the bed. There are colorful scarves of silk in the basket and I take two. As I pull the scarves toward me, they trail on your chest and you softly moan at the touch of the silk against your skin.

You start to touch my breasts but I pull back and than whisper in your ear “Don’t move”. You close your eyes and wait for my touch. I take the scarves and start to caress your body. Drawing the silk over your face, lightly touching your chest with the delicate fabric. You take a deep breath, smiling as your body undulates under the touch of the silk. I pull the sheet off your hips and softly glide the silk over your cock and between your legs. Caressing you and than softly kissing your warm cock. Your response is immediate, your cock grows hard as you moan softly.

I take the two scarves, stretching your arms upward and tie your wrists to the headboard of our bed. Not to hurt you but to let you know that you are mine. I whisper “Don’t move”. You moan and close your eyes.

I straddle you…not touching your growing hardness. I take the fragrant oil from the table and after warming it in my hands, I begin to massage your chest. Moving my hands upward as I lean forward, I caress your chest, your arms and up to your hands. Stoking you. Sliding my hands on your body. I lean over more so I can slide in the oil…covering my breasts in the warmth of oil and the heat that is growing inside you.

You want to touch me…you beg me to untie your hands. I slide up your body and whisper once more: “Don’t move”. I lift my body up and I can feel the moisture that has gathered between my legs. The thought of being able to take you excites me. The thought of you being mine is so erotic. I hover over your cock. Still not touching it. Your hips move up…your cock hard and throbbing…searching for my warm, tight opening.

I take your cock in my warm, oily hand and caress it, stroke it…sliding my hand up and down the shaft. My clit feels like it is on fire…I take your cock and place the tip against my clit…rubbing them together, feeling the throbbing. We both gasp in pleasure at the contact…it is electric. I rub your cock between my legs. My juices cover your hardness as I rub you back and forth.

I slowly lower my body on yours. Feeling you as your cock enters my tightness and warmth. Sliding slowly…wanting those first feelings of total bliss to last forever. This is what I want…to have you, to take you. I continue to slide on you…deeper and deeper I take you into my body. And than I stop with you filling me with your hardness.. I want to feel your throbbing and I want you to feel mine. I slide upward…our bodies still slick with oils. Breasts to chest…skin to skin. I kiss you deeply. Our tongues tasting each other. Your cock inside me. My clit throbbing.

I untie your hands…..

Silk Scarves, Part II

My arms free, I grasp you to me with them, curving your spine down for us to kiss.

The silk scarves slip to the wayside

Freed from bondage, my hands feel like sailors released in a port: Liberty becomes license, license becomes licentiousness.

My hands must rove….betwixt, between, below. They must explore and experiment. Kept too long confined on board, they must sack the city, plunder its treasure.

They long to travel from inside the knee to inside your loins, preparing a spot, a little garden spot, to plant the seeds of my kisses.

My hands just delight in their freedom, gliding over and around your back, grasping your ass and pulling you down harder on my cock, grinding pussy to groin.

You gasp at this first sign of feeling my power, my freedom, my desire, and clench my cock tighter in your pussy.

My hands slide up back and forth up the sides of your body, caressing you. I give my fingers freedom to swirl about you, tracing lines all over you, each line a little invisible rope to tie you closer to me.

My hands have sculpted clay. They have kneaded bread. They have fingered the sax, making it wail and bleat.

I touch you softly, but with strength, with each hand. You feel to me as clay on the potter’s wheel, as dough before the baker, as the sax to Coltrane, and I let you know it.

I pull you to me and kiss you, my hands mussing up into your hair. My tongue penetrates into your mouth from below, as I thrust up inside to the hilt.

I am feeling so cockstrong tonight, convinced beyond doubt that my cock can withstand any challenge you can give it without faltering. I feel like an A student, a top athlete, who loves to be tested.

As you take me gently on top, like a surfer far out into the ocean awaiting the perfect wave, just bobbing up and down with the little swells, I feel my cock wagging in my brain, flaunting itself, taunting you back for the torture you gave it when my hands were tied.

My mind whispers to itself: Try, my lover, just try to pleasure me tonight beyond the pale. Make my night: Give me the look that you want to fuck my brains out.

I end our kiss by tugging your hair back. Our eyes fasten onto each other. You see revenge in my eyes. Your cunt quivers. Your body shakes.

Yes, you sense what game is being played now, and you don’t want to give up your advantage. You love taking your turns on top, long turns. I love it too.

You straighten up, arch your back, and steady yourself, hands on my chest. You start fucking me, swiveling your hips, thrusting into me, quickening the pace.

Your hips feel like they are all ball bearings. Your pussy is so moist, so wet, you slide easily up and down my cock. Too easily.
Too much give, not enough take. And you want to take me tonight, trumping my cock with cunt. So you know you need to tighten up your yoni.

Smiling at me, your eyes inches away from mine, your tongue almost touching my lips, you begin your Kegels, squeezing my lingam again and again, brushing the tip of your tongue along my lips at the end of each squeeze.

My desire to parry and thrust into you is almost overwhelming. I want to remind you that your Kegeling is no match for my penetration. But I let you persist.

You’ve squeezed exuberant, exquisite orgasms out of me before this way: Your pussy almost still, your voice silent, letting me focus all my attention on my cock’s pleasure, my own orgasm. When I come this way, I feel you and I are gods alone in the universe, creating the Milky Way.

Tonight, however, Venus is in the ascendant, and Mars is in her thrall (or so you desire...and believe)

You rise up on your haunches, looking intent. I feel the challenge. I smile. You curse. Under your breath, you mouth the words to me, “You fucker. I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

“Try me,” I whisper back, silently.

You take me the way you know I love to be taken when you are on top: slowly….deliberately….purposefully. You rise up high, my cock just dangling inside of you by a thread. And then you short stroke it, bouncing a bit up and down, letting your labial lips French kiss my bulb, you barely moving, each move a message, your pussy its sweet envelope.

I close my eyes and concentrate, focusing on the intensity of the pleasure, feeling your cunt milk exquisite joy from me, each move….each little squeeze…its own act of torture. You are merciless tonight, but I resist.

I open my eyes. My face betrays me, crying out, “Bloody hell,” “Jesus Christ,” “OMG.” But I remain silent, except for another smile, this time more of a grin. I stick my tongue out. You snake yours out, and vibrate its tip, shivering me up. I know so well how you tease, how you conquer. Many a time the tip of your tongue has taken me by darting against the underside of my cock, flaggelating its frenulum.

You sense me weakening, so vulnerable to your vulva in its wickedess, so you lengthen your strokes, rocking back and forth no faster than honey flowing. Time and again you give me your longest, silkiest stroke.

I hold out. Your face turns expectant, then quizzical. You are waiting for me to announce my surrender, the castle taken by your siege. But my cannon remains in my possession, though you have it surrounded.

I look into your eyes, and I see the winds of war shifting. You look ready to negotiate, to sue for peace....or to renounce this world. Your eyes close, and you slip into some unknown space to man, sliding up and down now to your own rhythm, everything forgotten about me, my cock now belonging to you. You are in 5th or 6th heaven, feeling the line that will take you to 7. Tethered to the world only by my cock, you need to administer for yourself the coup de grace.

You slide all the way down on me and steady yourself again, at the still point of the world. You lean your head back, and arch, needing to feel my cock as a ramrod of steel, straining to enter the womb of your heart.

I whisper, “Look at me.” You open your eyes. You are fully now in your beauty. I want you back connected to me, taking a step back to earth to bring me high up to scale the heavens with you.

I reach out to your bosom, cupping each, caressing them, then a finger circling your nipple. It tightens. I take each nipple between thumb and forefinger, and squeeze, then tweak.

You see the look in the eyes, my intent. It’s primal. Behind the eyes is the red glare of an animal. I begin twisting your nipples. A little whip of pain twinges through them. A charge of pleasure shoots down the hot wire that goes from nipple to clit, then another.

As you descend, you join me on my ground; you become like me: an animal in heat. The heat flames through your loins, almost a wildfire. You need to quench the heat. Back up on your haunches , your start fucking me as if you had the cock, pegging into me, impaling yourself.

As the crescendo builds, your whole self lifts into a higher octave, moaning, panting. I curl my body up to you and kiss you passionately, then pull your head back, sweeping your hair aside, and I take you at the base of the neck and enter your ear with whispers, hot words, “I love fucking you.”

I fall back on the bed, grabbing you down with me, pulling you against my chest. My hands fasten on your hips, buckling them to me, steadying your ass that just wants to writhe all over me. I thrust up and in, with all deliberate speed, again and again.

You begin whimpering. My nails scratch down your back. You whimper louder. I love it. I scratch down your back one more time with all my nails, then one more time with just the edge of one nail on my middle finger, all along the spine, this time letting my finger go lower, down the crease of your ass, threatening another penetration.

You squiggle around on me, beseeching me to thrust. I spank your ass once and tell you not to move. As you look down at me, I wet my middle finger in my mouth, then give it to you to suck on. I bring it back down your spine, down the crease of your ass, and I pull your cheeks apart. I threaten again to enter, but I don’t. Instead I play your back now with my fingers and nails like a harpist plucking strings and doing glissandos. Strung tight at first, as if stretched between poles, your body softens with each stroke, each glissando.

My cock is flush with excitement, humming and buzzing, but still a minute or two or three away from the top of its climb. I need to catch up to you.

I start stroking into you more firmly, and I whisper to you “I love you.” You echo back the same words. We continue our call-and-response, each stroke of “I love you” at the end of a thrust echoed back by you. Our movements are symphonic, but then we go flamenco guitar. You whirl yourself into me, spiraling around my cock, as you let yourself go wild. No words are spoken now. Just fucking.

My cock feels like a stallion in the backstretch of a race it knows it will win.

As we round into the homestretch, I spank you from behind, five six times, each one harder, needing that ass of yours to move faster, fuck me harder

Nearing the finish line, I mold you into my favorite position. Your body straddling mine, upraised some, my hands on the hollow of your hips, now holding you still. I start pumping into you from deep down below, tapping my cock into the molten fire in the center of the earth, holding your ass up into the air, braced by my hands, as I try to send you to the moon with each thrust.

But you break out of my grasp. You start rocketing back and forth over me, trying to give me a nipple to suck and bite as they graze over head. I catch a nipple in my mouth, the one over your heart, and torment it with my tongue, flicking hard, and you press your breast into me even more.

It’s all instinctual now, our atavistic dance. I feel your ecstasy coming on, your spirit leaving your body, taking off, soaring, your womanhood running with the wolves, your mind nowhere to be found.

No thoughts now, just sensation, overwhelming sensation, wave upon wave of synaethesia, blotting out everything but bliss, yourself taken by a pacific swell as you feel me cresting with you, riding in the curl of the same perfect wave, my hands no longer battening down your ass, but shaking you back and forth, using your pussy to explode me.

Then we just lock hands together, binding them up again, fingers interlocked, the two of us tighter together than scarves, or ropes, could bond us. But our cunt and my cock are free and wild, gyrating crazily together.

The quivering begins, rippling through your body, giving way to trembling, shaking, the crying out of bodies, as my spasms join yours, sending shards and spurts of liquid heat coursing through us.

Minutes later, breathing restored, minds back beginning to function a little, you find one of the silk scaves in the bed. You pick it up and wave it at me. A flag of surrender. I accept it.

1 comment:

  1. We may need to do our own collaboration. What say you, Sir?