Any resemblance to real persons and events… may not be coincidental!
A quiet, dimly lit room. Moonlight illuminates two bodies: mine and yours.
The only sound that can be heard is the rhythm of my heart and yours.
I gently push you onto the bed; you fall with a smile.
I lightly crawl over your body and interlace the fingers of my left hand with your two delicate hands (you've put cream on, by the way). I lift them above your head and with my right hand place it on your smooth little cheek. With my thumb I trace your lips, looking at them and wondering how they can look so juicy. I look into your eyes and we hold each other's gaze. I can't resist the temptation and kiss you passionately. At the same moment, with my knee I part your legs. You lock them around me. I gently turn your head to the right and reveal the left side of your neck (I got the impression that your left side is a weakness). With tender kisses I trace the length of your neck. With my tongue I lick your earring and lightly bite the lower part of your ear, then bite your neck. I release your hands and, with my tongue and gentle kisses, move downward. My only guide is the moonlight caressing your enticing body.
I reach your navel and kiss it passionately with my tongue. I continue downward. I reach my goal. I feel warmth on my face.
With my right hand I press the inner part of your thigh to the bed, and with my left—the bend of your knee—and lift it up. I bite a little harder into the inner part of your right thigh. I lift my gaze to meet yours. With your left hand you hold your neck, and the little finger of your right hand is in your mouth as you look at me hungrily and expectantly, which gives me the sign to continue. I extend my tongue and with its tip trace the shape of your lower lips, gently up and down, until I find that little part that hides. I apply more pressure with my tongue and don't stop until I feel a slight tremor in your legs for minutes. And there it is—the tremor—you extend your right hand and gently place it on my cheek, giving me the signal that this is the spot. I continue applying the same pressure, caressing your clitoris, until you grab my hair with one hand after a minute or two, and after another minute or two—with the other as well—and press my head forcefully toward you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, toes curled, wondering whether to push me away or let me continue to eat you hungrily. But you're a brave girl and you want me to continue to the point where you can't anymore, and you give in to the sensation and climax.
The characters are clear.
With your right hand you lift my head and wipe your sweet juices from my mouth, then pull me toward you, hug me tightly, and kiss me passionately with tongue. Then you lick my mouth and cheeks. Aggressively you push me onto the bed and settle on top of me—in a call that you accept the challenge and now it's your turn.
With smooth movements of your lower body you move back and forth, rubbing our genitals together, tracing the length of my penis. You lower yourself slightly, kissing every part of me, lightly biting one of my nipples and playfully watching my reaction. And I look at you teasingly, to see how far you'll go.
You reach the most important part of me, grab me at the base of my penis, and leave light kisses on its head without breaking eye contact. You extend your tongue and with it trace the ridge; drops of saliva run down my penis. At this sight I ask myself how I'm even controlling myself. I bite my tongue just enough not to give in to the pleasure.
You see this and begin to take me aggressively, halfway into your mouth. At the same time, the hand holding me starts moving up and down in sync with your head. I extend my hand, grab your right cheek, and stop you for a moment. Surprised, you stop.
I extend my thumb and gently put it into your mouth, massaging your tongue back and forth. I wonder how this small, gentle tongue makes me feel such pleasure. I straighten up and kiss you hungrily. Our tongues intertwine, exchanging sweet juices. With my hand I grab your hair and lean back, letting you continue—which you don't even hesitate to do.
A minute or two passes; it becomes five. I no longer know where I am. I feel that I can't control myself and tell you I'm going to finish, but you're merciless—this only encourages you more. Your grip tightens; the vacuum intensifies. I tell you again that I'm close, but no one hears me. Until I straighten up and grab your cheek, pulling you toward me to stop you.
Whispering, "I said I'm going to finish," and you, laughing, reply, "I know." You continue moving your hand aggressively. We don't take our eyes off each other—as if we're hypnotized. Until the moment I finish in your hand. You open it and lick every finger, playfully laughing, and finally swallow. At this sight it's almost impossible for me to soften. I've never been harder.
Here it becomes clear that control is now meaningless—my animal instincts take over.
I pull you and throw you onto your back. I loom over you, my left hand interlaced with your right. With your other hand you massage your breasts. I, in turn, with my right hand hold my hot penis and trace your lower lips up and down. I find that little part that at the beginning was hiding, but no longer is. With circular movements around it I slide up and down again.
You beg me to penetrate, but at this stage I torment you, trying to give back what you did to me when you made me finish so mercilessly. Until the moment I penetrate halfway. Biting your lips and squeezing my hand, you look at me passionately. With gentle thrusts I continue for a minute or two, until you adjust, to the moment I penetrate deeper.
You lightly tense your legs and curl your toes. That gives me the sign that this is the right spot. At that moment the only thing that can be heard is our heavy breathing and the rhythm of our hearts.
The rhythm that guides me.
I take your other hand and raise it above your head, as if you surrender your body to the night. I position myself over you and with slow, insistent movements merge with you, until your breath breaks into short, deep inhales.
I let my weight rest on you—full, real. I feel how close you are because your legs lock around me, like a final plea for me not to stop. You whisper that you can't anymore, recalling how mercilessly you brought me to the edge… and I continue. I hold you tightly; our lips meet; our tongues seek each other. Our sweaty bodies merge into one, until you break away, dig your nails into my back, bite my shoulder—and dissolve into the moment.
I straighten up. With my right hand I brush your hair away from your face, caress your cheek, and kiss you—quietly, almost blessed. But you're still fire. You push me onto my back, sit on top of me, grab my chin, and kiss me hungrily, as if you want to drink my last breath.
Your hand finds me; your movements are slow and confident. For a moment you straddle—then you move, back and forth, gathering courage. And when you begin to ride me, you hold my neck with one hand, and with the other find balance on my body. Your gaze is defiant; your smile—a promise. You tell me without words that you are not to be underestimated.
I am calm. I watch you.
Moonlight cuts your body into light and shadow. My hand slides along your thigh, up your ribs, stopping on your breast. Playfully I tease that tender, firm nipple—a summons your breath answers with a tremor.
I pull you toward me. You stop for a moment. We kiss—just long enough for you to catch your breath, thinking you'll continue to torment me. But no.
My turn.
I bend my knees slightly and with sharp resolve take you from below. "It's not enough," I think. I move your arm behind your back and lock you. My other hand slides under your armpit, finds your neck; our lips collide. The rhythm accelerates. Our bodies burn.
There are two of us—drenched and aflame at the same time. We don't separate, as if doing so would shatter the magic. I'm close. You whisper that you're going to finish. I press you even tighter to me; my arms close around you. You press my head to yours, kiss me—and squeeze me so hard that you pull me with you.
We hold our breath.
The waves pass through us.
And leave behind silence and warmth.
You relax, lie on my arm, snug against my body. You hug me. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and smile at the thought of how real it all was. The moon illuminates our bodies. I kiss you on the forehead, stroke your arm and shoulder, and my other hand slowly slides along your back until your breathing calms.
And just then—
the alarm rings.