Friday, October 23, 2009

This Man Called Angel

“I want you,” he growled it. Demanding. Urgent. Intense.

He fell to his knees and began eating my pussy, through my clothes, even as he was struggling to get them down, off, out of the way.

I hadn’t expected it, after so much loving in the night, and again this morning. It was early afternoon, and I was just starting the coffee. It was the sudden return of his desire, the way he turned to me with such exposed need, as much as the intensity of the sensation of his hungry teeth burrowing into my clit. Again after so many times in the night, I rode the waves of pleasure to the tsunami of cumming

And cum I did, that sudden flooding geyser of cum into his mouth, the metallic odor, the wetness, the liquid heat running down my legs onto my pants, now around my ankles. I pushed my panties there too and held his head fiercely into my pussy as he bit and sucked and swallowed, and his face had droplets of my cum and it was pouring out of his mouth and running down his neck onto his chest and still I came.

And when he had had enough, his face wet and glorious and sanctified, I fell back onto the dining room table, sated.

And he began to lick me, long slow wet tongue muscle pushing proding soothing arousing as he licked me. Exquisite pleasure and rough comfort in his tongue. And again, already primed and running, it poured over the edge, the rise of my juices, the shooting pressure of relief as my hot amrita washed over my swollen labia, my buttocks, the table and onto the floor.

I became hungry for the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him. I pulled him toward me and turned onto my left side, and looked into his eyes. In that glance, each of us exposed to the other. Open. Vulnerable. Lost in Want. And then, I plunged his cock into my mouth. And slowly ever so slowly, I began to pull away from him, hard and gleaming with my saliva, with my desire. The taste of his precum in the back of my throat and the full long length of him caressing the inside of my mouth. Slower still, until neither of us was certain that my mouth was moving on him at all, and then even slower. Plunge him in, linger him out. Over and Over. Every molecule of my mouth was on fire with the pleasure of his cock. Over and Over. Slow, slowly, slower still. Dragging in liquid pleasure across all the nerves in my mouth. Over and Over. The nerves for hot and cold, the nerves for salt and sweet and sour, the nerves for smooth and soft and hard and slippery and slimy, and the nerves for pinching and poking and gagging: all vibrating humming in a kind of ecstatic hymn to my pleasure.

And in my ecstasy, I also began to hum and that deep in my throat vibration caused him to moan and grab my head and slam his cock into my mouth, Over and Over, and then at last release into my mouth…my hungry pleasure mouth, my humming mouth, my eager mouth, my open and wanting mouth…And he released his own gift to me. His cum white and thick and sweet and salty and oh so very sweet in my mouth, on my lips over my chest.

His face wet and beatific and glorified. His face angelic.

This Man Called Angel.