Let Me Make You Feel Good 1

I love watching the gentle morning sun cool your skin to lavender. The breeze billowing through the open window brings with it the scent of its namesake and jasmine. I bury my nose into the nape of your neck and inhale, the hairs tickling my nostrils and your warm woodsy scent a'flaming my sinuses.

You make a clicking; a sucky noise. It makes me lift my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Immediately I flood with saliva, and my pussy tingles against the dip of your lower back.

In my gentle morning arousal, my mind dreams of you. Of the night we met. I didn't realise it then, but it felt like my whole body came alive. A spark in the blood.

A knowing.

I rub my curving lips against the base of your skull, my senses swept up with you. You squirm, change the position of your legs and half roll back on me, your shoulder blade resting upon my breast. My nipple hardens at the firmer contact with you, my fingernails scratching circles over your abdomen.

Are you dreaming of me? I wonder. Are you remembering that time we snuck out of the party for a breather, to share a joint, to reconnect in the quiet? We sat outside, the air ice to my skin. You opened your coat and let me snuggle into your side. So casually. So easily.

I knew then I was a lucky woman.

I wonder if you're dreaming what I'm remembering. That once we were happily buzzed, you pulled me into the shadows against the house, pinning my arms above my head with one hand, the other snaking down to cover my sex. Recalling the pressure you applied to the seam of my jeans back then, makes me squeeze my thighs together now. My core began throbbing. An echo of then. My hand subconsciously journeying lower to your pelvis.

My fingertips scratch softly down before just my index circles the base of your cock. I smother a smile against your shoulder, puckering my lips and letting my tongue roll out to taste the smoked salt of your skin. Again, I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, running it along the ridges there, the frenulum underneath tingling hot.

I remember my heart pounding, a roaring in my ears, a heat searing my skin. You were crude, the way you manhandled me. But my hips arched in response.

A knowing.

"Whose cunt is this?" you rasped against my ear, your lips tickled with tendrils, your teeth scraping skin.

I groaned, bucked against your hand, rocking my hips as the seam of denim and zipper rubbed my clit. I felt like electricity, prickly and poppy and likely to explode.

A peak of laughter took my attention to the party indoors. I could see pastel silhouettes through the curtains, and my heart thundered with wondering what they could see squirming in the shadows.

"Whose?" you bit into my neck, my averted gaze exposing a long column of skin for you to torture.

You could sense it in me, couldn't you? The submissive. The good girl who likes to take risks. A woman who wanted to be taken and claimed, branded as yours. For everyone to know who I belonged to.

"Tell them," you hissed, the heel of your hand rubbing hard, harder, harder, against my clit. I felt the cool metal, the damp denim and my eyes rolled in mounting pleasure. My cunt was burning, my core pulling, begging for its mate.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed, imagining someone coming by the window at just the right angle as to spot us. Or of someone stepping outside for some fresh air and hearing us. My cunt contracted once -- I felt your responding grin against my jawline -- before surrendering.

"Yours. I'm yours." I licked my lips, turning my face towards you, seeking your kiss, your lips, your tongue. You swallowed my moans moments after eliciting them.

I remember rocking greedily against your hand, seeking the pleasure you demanded I share. I vaguely remember hearing the sliding door to the patio opening, my heart beating in my chest. You pulled us a step darker into the shadows, the brick veneer scraping my jacket, the sound rough and artificial.

You released my wrists and clamped that hand over my mouth, holding me still. You made a quiet "shhh" sound and gentled your rubbing to slow, languid circles. Helping me calm down.

Remembering how you handled me, kept me safe, makes me mimic those languid movements behind you. I roll my hips, aching pussy coming into fleeting contact with your left flank. My hand strokes your semi-erect cock from root to tip.

I love how warm you feel. I can feel your heartbeat through your back ribs, and the slight change in your breathing.

Pussy aching with memories, my love for you swelling across my chest, I wriggle out from you, gently moving so you can rest fully on your back. I wait a moment, to see if you will wake fully, or if your eyelids will continue to flutter gently in the rising light.

I catch my full bottom lip with my teeth, my mind zeroing in on you.

I just want to make you feel good.

With a soft touch, I pull the sheets down, exposing your skin to the cool morning. I grin down at your cock, swollen and stiff, before flicking my gaze back up to your face. I see you blink softly twice, and I know you're slowly blinking away whatever dreams held you while I touched you.

You grin sleepily at me, slitted sleepy eyes watching as my hair curtains over your crotch, my wet mouth warming around you.

I hear you sigh, legs stretching out and relaxing beneath my torso. Right hand holding you to my mouth, the left scratching sequences along your ribcage, I rub the tip of your cock over the connective tissue beneath my tongue, before rolling that wet muscle around your smooth bellend.

My fisted hand slides up the length of your cock; I make a funnel with my hand circled around your tip, dropping a ball of saliva from my mouth, following it with my hand. I tilt my head in an attempt to shake the hair out of my eyes, and through the tendrils, see the same sleepy slitted eyes, but they're accompanied by a big, toothy grin.

This makes me smile. You make me smile.

My smile follows the path of my hand, and I guide you fully into my mouth, tongue thrusting against the underside of your shaft, fingertips tickling your tightening balls.

You flex your toes toward the ceiling, your hips hitching a little in response. I move fluidly with you, my moans of pleasure melting into your sex.

Your fingers comb through my hair once, twice, before pulling it back from my face, balling it up atop my head. My scalp prickles all the way down my spine.

I suck deep a breath through my nose, your scent intensified here. Still woodsy, but darker. Like that night at the party. Just one step deeper into the shadows.

I moan, low in my throat, and your right leg stiffens in response; I know you can feel how much I want you. I know you're wondering what I was thinking to have me wake up in such a mood. I know you don't really care what got me in this mood.

You know you inspired it.

Your breathing is sharper, higher in your chest. Concentrated to cushion the beating of your heart. I can feel the same throb in my mouth, taste it on my tongue.

Your hands pull me up the length of your dick, and I move with you, my lips clinging to your rigidity, loathing the loss of you.

I cling to the tip of your cock, cheeks going hollow, sucking you firmly, my tongue fluttering over your glans, the weeping slit.

Reading your body, feeling the lift of your hips, I slacken my jaw, taking you to the base in one easy thrust. My throat contracts around you, and your hand twists my hair, holding me tight, making each vertebrae bubble and fizz. Your free hand finds mine, and we fist white there at the knuckles. We move, connected like this, in a slow easy rhythm. You guide me up your length, allowing me a lungful of air before thrusting back up against my face, feeding me the entire length of your dick.

My mouth grows swollen and slick, my tongue pushing harder against you the longer you hold me, conveying my growing need for your come.

I writhe against your shinbone, tormenting myself with tickles when what I was beginning to crave was to be fucked into oblivion.

I groan, a more guttural sound, and you choke out what I think is a laugh. A sound of triumph? Unadulterated joy? You hold my face firmly against your sex while you thrust to the back of my throat, both hands now in my hair, your blunt fingertips digging into the base of my skull.

My nails leave biting crescent moons along your hips and outer thighs, my desperation growing. My pussy is slick and hot against your shinbone. And fuck, I know you raise your knee every now and then just to drive me insane.

"Ah fuck," you grunt, your eyes squeezing shut, both legs shaking stiff for a moment. For the last time, you pull my face up the length of your cock, allowing me to catch my breath, the movement of which makes you tremble with impatience. You actually bite your bottom lip to keep from coming that very moment.

You moan again. We both know you can't hold off much longer.

My nails dig deeper into your skin, stinging, but you don't care. All you know is that your release is soon. You see my need for it shine from desperate eyes.

"Now," you say gruffly, thrusting up hard, pulling me down hard, as you finally find your climax. I close my eyes as your orgasm hits the back of my throat, making me gag reflexively around you, squeezing your dick differently as you lose yourself in me.

You spurt and shake, stiffening once again before relaxing your hold on my hair and sinking down into the mattress. I move my head freely now, sucking softly up your sensitive length, rolling saliva and semen around your tip before swallowing and taking you to the base once again.

I keep my movements gentle, soft. My pussy barely brushes along your shin now. But when it does, I tingle all over and sigh happily into you. I love knowing I can drive you to madness before quieting your soul the way you do me.

Your fingertips gently massage my scalp as I finally relinquish my hold of your cock. I kiss the tip, dip down to circle my tongue around your balls -- a teasing figure eight -- and smile my way up to the crook of your neck, where I bury my face and breathe you in.

I fucking love making you feel good.