The days drawing in, minute by minute the evening closes in around us as the Autumnal shift is almost fully frosty. We returned home to the chill of an empty house soon to be reawakened by our presence and the heating. I settle in under my layers of comfort and warmth, sitting satisfied from a bite to eat and a film on the screen before us. Restful, having found some peace after the barrage of busyness of the week past.
I snuggle on his shoulder, his arm lifting and being placed around me in a natural reflex to my movement. He strokes my hair, once, twice.
The tension had turned my glance up in his direction, he smiles and I kiss him. The hand holds my hair again and I sink into his lips, feeling his warm breath bring the fire to my cheeks. Lips that are soft, irresistible and his. My hand drifts up into his our hairline, smooths over in a fluid movement – a finger stroking along his eyebrow into a full five-fingered sweep through his hair, down to curl round his neck, ending with a light flick of his earlobe.
He breaks the kiss to stand and offer his hand to me; an invitation, a challenge. I don’t refuse, taking his hand as he draws me up to meet him to be turned away as he presses his chest into my back, wrapping his arms around me. One across my breasts, fingers slipping beneath my top, tracing his fingers across my bra; the other hand snakes its way down my side to feel my sex through my jeans. This hand holds its place, making me catch my breath with the bold, assertive, possessive gesture. His head is bowed close to mine, I feel him breathe me in, feel his breath on my neck before his nose nudges away my hair so those lips of his can flutter against my skin. My turn to exhale as I sigh.
He gently eases me forward and I am kneeling on the sofa, he guides my hands to rest on the back-rest then loosens my jeans to slide his hand into my knickers. I’m not surprised that he finds me wet, his kisses have overwhelmed my senses. Hips wiggle and I arch back into his body. Head becoming heavy, I allow it to fall slowly back a little and rest on his shoulder, exposing my throat, a smile on my face being interrupted with a growing frequency of gasps, giggles and Oohhhs. I reach behind me and seek out his cock, hard against the fabric of his trousers. I moan happily and stroke him through his clothing.
Clothing is steadily eased down my thighs as his free hand rolls over my hip, pushing down my jeans just a bit further with every pass. The caress is hypnotic in its repetition and my head swims delightfully in the dizziness that accompanies upright orgasms – of which his fingers are tickling me into ever so uncontrollably now.
As my mind starts to fill with the white noise I am aware of only of my need to have him remove his clothes and screw me. I want to see that gorgeous naked body of his, to lay my half-lidded eyes on his erection – the sight of which instantly fills me with a hunger, a desire to have him.
Fuck me, a laconic urgency seeps into me. We part for the moments it takes us to undress and fall back upon each other, his mouth on my breasts kissing and licking as I reach over into my handbag for the ever-ready condom to hand to him as I ready myself sitting on the couch, legs spread in anticipation, my foot trailing its way along his thigh as I wait for him to sheath himself. My eyes are locked in place, watching his every move as he shifts towards me, enters me with that satisfying first thrust that always and forever will take my breath away. I hold him tightly, my nails pressing into his flesh on his arse and shoulders, his voice encouraging me to claw harder.
Sometimes, just sometimes, that Mister of mine understands my wishes for spontaneity and completely takes me…