Page 93 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
“Are you sure you don’t want me to dry your boxer briefs?”
In answer I lean down and lick her swollen lips. My tongue darts inside her mouth. She is sweet and soft. My mind is ablaze. I want to shove my cock into her mouth, but at the same time, I want to fall to my knees and feast on her pussy. I kiss her hard, and soon we’re a medley of hands and groans. She breaks for air, then switches the dryer on; a slow hum fills the air as she props herself up on top of the vibrating machine.
“Ooohhh,” she squirms, wrapping her legs around me, Venus fly trap style. Our bodies are damp, steam curling off them. My cock strains even more against the fabric, as she plants more hot, desperate, needy kisses on my face and neck. It’s like we can’t get enough of one another. We touch and stroke and feel, tongues lapping, mouths clamping. Her fingers wrap around my neck, and her ankles cross around my back. Her heels dig in and I grind my hips against her.
I want to sink inside her. I palm her pebbled nipple and, unsatisfied and greedy, pull down one of her straps and bra cup to expose a beautiful pert breast. My mouth suctions around it and I suck as if my life depends on it.
She throws her head back, giving me unfettered access to her neck and jawline. For a moment I stop and look at her, her eyes are half closed, lashes so long and curly. Her mouth is parted and she’s semi topless. She looks like an erotic painting. Just then she opens her eyes and stares at me, as if she doesn't understand why I’ve stopped to stare.
“You can't ...” She shakes her head, disappointment veiling her features.
“Can't what?” My voice is hoarse with need, and pain, as if my engorged cock will wither and die if it doesn’t get a release.
“You can’t stop now…”
“What makes you think I have any intention of stopping?” No way do I ever want to stop. I want to do this forever. We kiss again, feverishly, hungrily, as if we’re making up for all the lost years. She consumes me and all the things I’ve thought about, the things I’ve wanted to do to her and with her, now I can.
I pull her panties to the side and slide in a finger, making her shudder as she clenches around me. No, I do not want to stop.
I couldn’t, unless she asked me to.
But she wants this, and she opens for me, widening her legs on the dryer. I slide in another finger and stroke her nub. She arches her back, moaning deep and dirty. I want to dive in and eat her out, but I also want much more. The torment of exploring and seeing her all over again is too much for me to take things slowly.
“You’re so ready,” I murmur, my thumb sliding over her easily.
I pull down the other bra cup so that her breasts are uncovered. She puts her hands behind her and leans back a little. With the dryer spinning, she jiggles around on top, vibrating with the spin cycle, her perky breasts bouncing. I pump my fingers in and out, like pistons. Each sweep elicits moans from her. She parts her legs wider, as if she wants more of me inside her. I hook my finger inside her and she lets out a squeal. My brain is in a haze. It’s like I’m intoxicated. I rip the tiny little piece of fabric away. But doing it like this, so that it partly reveals her, and partly covers her, is sensual.
It’s dirty.
She'salmostnaked, but not quite. She grinds herself against my hand and starts to shudder, as if she’s on the edge of her orgasm.
Not yet.
I pull my fingers out and she whimpers, until I claim her mouth and kiss her hard. Our tongues stroke and taste and lick, and we go at it like two wild animals.
I need to fuck her here.Now.But in the distant edges of my mind, I have enough awareness to think of her. It won't be comfortable for her, not like this, and I want space and softness for her. Not the cold hard edges of an appliance.
“Do you have condoms?” Her voice is raspy as I lift her off the dryer.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I do. “Will you hate me if I say 'yes'?”
“You do? Oh, thank God, thank God,” she mumbles against my neck. In answer I palm her breasts roughly and devour her with another kiss. She’s a smorgasbord of delight. I don’t know what to taste or kiss or touch and stroke next., I’m spoiled for choice.
My cock could so easily slide inside her. I don't carry rubbers around with me because I don’t expect to have sex with women other than my wife—and that fizzled out years ago. I’m not a guy who makes moves on women. But being with Megan, I had to be prepared. I’ve had to guardrail my heart and my emotions, because goodness knows this woman has tried to get me to make a move on her. She’s been hard to resist.
Impossible.
Her ankles dig harder into my lower back as she tightens her grip around me.
Fuck.
I pull down my boxers, needing the release, needing to feel her. I have a mind to fuck her right here. Then I remember … the condom is in the back pocket of my jeans which are in the dryer.
“I need a moment,” I manage to mutter, as I bend to retrieve my jeans but her parted legs steal my attention. I want my cock inside her, filling her to the hilt, making her mine. I want to watch her come and fall apart under my gaze while I fuck her into oblivion. I want her to be mine forever, but she is so wet, glistening under the tawdry light that I can’t help myself, and roll my tongue over her, lapping at her juices.
Oh, fuck.
The smell, the taste, it makes me want to come right now. I bury my nose against her, memories of her familiar scent reawakening. She tastes like an elixir I never want to stop drinking.
