Pressing to her utmost depth. Swelling with each pulse of his heart, he throbbed. Engorged, he drew himself from her with unending tenderness. Then he plunged. Like the down stroke of a double bass she vibrated around his bow. She milked him within with each sensual thrust. Sensation, fresh and exquisite, flowed around him. He needed to touch her everywhere. Starting at her throat where he bruised her soft skin with his sucking tongue. Drawing his teeth over her strong shoulder, he laid siege to her breasts, making a meal of her delicious flesh. When her nipples had twisted to painful points he nursed one until softened and smoothed. Only to twist again when his hot breath moved to the other.
Sex hung in the air above their bed, smelling of semen and sweat and her, curled in his arms. Moonlight glowing through the bedroom window silhouetted her shape as he stroked from her shoulder to her hip. He was restless, thirsting for revelry. He slipped out of bed and padded downstairs dressed only in a t-shirt.
He poured himself two fingers of bacon bourbon. In the glass the alcohol lifted the scent of her on his face. He smiled into the glass then took a long sip. Sitting on the sofa by a small lamp. He took his whiskey slow. Sipping between flashes of flesh and saliva shined skin that made him swell. He touched himself, drawing a line with his finger around and around the tip. He had never had better than the sex that clung gentle to his washed hands like perfume on a day old shirt. He was sure of it. Sex would henceforth be compared to this night. He was engaged in the privileged work of setting every detail to memory. The whiskey was doing its work spreading its warmth throughout his body. He grasped himself and stroked with excruciating slowness.
He heard her feet on the stairs. After rubbing her sleepy eyes, she gazed upon him. His hand strong between his thighs. His eyes intense on the hair beneath her cardigan and the bare skin she, like him, showed. She sat next to him. Took his glass, put her mouth where his had been. Where his lips had left a mark. When she’d had her sip, she slipped to her knees and pulling his hand away, mouthed him. She took him deep inside. Then sliding her tongue the length of him, sucked his tip.
Spreading her thighs atop his, she slid onto him, feeling his familiar fullness pulse inside her. Placing her hand on his face, she drew his mouth onto hers, delighting in the scent of herself still present. She sucked her scent from his lips, rocking in his lap. He unbuttoned her sweater, kissing her neck, her chest. Squeezing her breasts with hands of growing urgency. He slid the sweater off of her shoulders and sucked every bit of skin he could. Her gyrations were incessant. He felt his semen pooling inside him, begging to burst forth. He slid a moistened thumb between them and stirred her to completion as he thrust up into her and came. Her nipple still wet and hard in his mouth.
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