From the way he placed his hand on my neck, I knew he wanted me. I lay in bed, facing away from him in the darkness. He wanted me, not just like that, but wanted me. For me. Smiling at the black room, with my eyes closed, I snuggled backwards into him. His hand moved from my neck over my shoulder, exposed from the sheet where his movements had uncovered me. A low noise of approval came through the darkness, and his fingers brushed softly over my body down to the curve of my waist.
I feigned sleep but we both knew it to be a lie. This was part of the play; the embrace, the taking. The darkness acting as blindfold to us both so we relied on other, heightened, senses. His fingertips gently danced over my waist to hip flare so softly, yet in the dark almost silent room it felt spectacularly intense. Small movements but dramatic sensations, as if he was tugging me towards him one hand around my throat the other hooked under my cunt in broad daylight.
Shuffling himself closer behind me I could feel just how inexplicably aroused he was. His delicious, hot and hard cock pressed against me at the base of my spine, against my bottom, and I took a moment to relish the arousing emotions which then tumbled through my mind. What beauty he could perform by wielding it in his expert ways. What pleasure he could give me, but oh, what pleasure I could give him with various parts of me. Recursive ripples of pleasure emanating from our tangled form. My mouth taking in the pre-cum slicked tip of his cock, my lips wet by my tongue between taking more and more of his shaft until he’s fucking my throat. His freshly blown cock, still wet from a heady mixture of salty tears, cum and saliva, perfectly lubricated to slide balls-deep into my aching cunt. His generous cock which is always ready for more and never seems spent, completing the carnal hat-trick by flipping me over, smearing cold gel with finger tips and fucking my arse. Hard. While I sob from that addictive blend of exhaustion, need, pain and arousal, deep wracking cathartic sobs into the well-worn teddy of an ageplayer.
Thousands of sex memories with him fly through my mind in that moment when he presses his cock against me. Each new memory makes the resulting passion that fills my mind and body more potent, but he’s like a drug, and I’m lost, hooked to the craving, a cock junkie for him.
I’d swear he knows the effect he has on me, the effect his cock has on me, and I’d also swear that he smiled right then in the darkness. I know his twisted mind – well, mostly. He still surprises me. Just one of the reasons I love him so much. He’s never predictable.
But this is about more than just sex. I’m exhausted, too tired to even talk, to ask questions. I put my fate in his hands once again and he respects that trust. The trust that he won’t irrevocably break me, or push me beyond any limits, physical, mental or emotional. Passionate, pounding sex which reduces me to a sobbing mess has its place, but tonight he’s my lover. A man with his woman, showing love in the act of making love.
His hands are exploring my body, reacting to my unspoken reciprocated arousal. He’s read the small signs I can’t help emitting. The slight arch of my back as my nipples tingle from the feel of his cock pulsing against my body, my legs stretching and parting slightly to invite him in. My face turning to nuzzle against his as he kisses up my shoulder, neck and jawline. My body silently aching for him to continue as his fingers move lower than my soft stomach, down my thigh and risk probing between my legs. The wetness that has begun to pool there, combined with my half-crooked leg to aid his journey of discovery, giving the green light for more.
I want you, I shout silently into the dark. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me now.
He gives me what I want.
His hand moves to my hip again, repositioning me properly on my side with an unspoken admonishment for slipping out of spoons. Fingertips still wet from exploring my pussy lips he pushes them between my legs from behind and locates my aching cunt once again. I know what’s coming now. Him.
Moving closer still, so that our bodies are flush together in hot anticipation, he grabs his ready cock with the hand that’s been underneath him and his other hand comes up to hold my throat. I feel like an animal, it’s such a deliciously primal way to be taken. I’m unable to move even if I wanted to – and I definitely don’t want to – and he pushes just the head of his cock against my slippery wet opening.
He then breaks the silence with words growled close to my ear like a mystical rite of passage.
“Daddy’s naughty little girl…”
If I had thought I’d given myself to him before, I burn on an altar and present him with the sacrificial ashes now. It’s a good thing he holds me in place by the neck, as I feel all physical strength drain from me as I let him have everything. Mind, emotion, love, body. And it is in that moment, when I have become the sacrifice that he craves, that he slides his cock home deep inside my cunt. Reward and symbol of love for us both.
The initial wave of surrender passes and I find some strength, enough to push back and partake in the pleasure instead of almost observing my own fucking. His fingers tighten around my throat in a savage but undeniably hot statement of ownership. We toy with this game of challenge and rebuke until his arousal peaks and he can’t resist any longer. I want him to cum, as well. I need to feel it filling me, need to hear his grunt of pure sexual satisfaction that he’s taken from my willing body, out of passion, out of love.
When it comes it’s a rush, of course… the rush of hot fluid inside my hot and fucked almost raw cunt, but the head rush of such a tangible culmination of our need for each other, the way we’re irresistibly drawn to each other in every way.
Eventually the ebb and flow of his spasming, post-spunked cock diminishes and our breathing returns to normal. The crashing sound of blood pulsing through our ears and the fireworks of sex flatlines to the silence and darkness once more. Somewhat unnecessarily we tell each other I love you.
I know. I know you love me. You know I love you.
We sleep that way and I don’t even care that it’s too hot. There’s no bolting to the bathroom to wash, no sensible precautions against the wet spot. Just two tired, long term lovers cocooned in cum-soaked spoons in the dark.