Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The luggage only just made it through the door ahead of us before it was forgotten. I wriggled out of my sandals and flung them in the doorless wardrobe as Adam hopped on one foot removing his second shoe, then we crushed together and spiralled into the room, kissing and groping as we went. Stopping just short of the bed, he grabbed my butt again and hiked the skirt up to my waist as our tongues duelled wetly. The sexual tension of the day had made us both on the brink of boiling point and there was no need for foreplay. If anything, the entire day had been foreplay and this was our main event: raw, passionate, frenzied lovemaking. The comparative coolness of the room breezed over my exposed pussy lips, making me shiver. Grabbing his taut bottom through his shorts, I squeezed and pulled him to me. The bulge was already prominent and I could hardly wait to impale myself on it, but a deal was a deal. Breaking the kiss I stepped back, panting, and pushed him backwards. Half a pace later he reached the bed edge and dropped to a sitting position, just looking at me. The air crackled between us with the supercharged promise of torrid sex. Without taking my eyes from his, I stepped over to the shopping bag, crouched and retrieved my new shoes. Then as flirtatiously as I could muster I set them on the floor directly in front of him and slid into them one at a time. I could tell he approved of the transformation, the subtle change in my centre of gravity that accentuated the curves he hankered after, but didn’t give him any time to dwell. Reaching out, I placed my hand on his chest to feel his heart beating quickly, then shoved him backwards. He flopped onto the sheets and within seconds I clambered on top of him, crawling forward quickly, hungrily, keeping eye contact the entire time. As my knees neared his chest I raised my upper body to straddle him, and shuffled forward, still looking down until my chest obscured our line of sight. Hovering inches above his face I held position, teasing him with the smell, listening to his irregular breathing as he excitedly anticipated my sex. If çankaya escort there was anything Adam truly adored in this world, it was eating me out. And he was damn good at it. “You want this pussy?” “Yes,” he whispered. “Louder.” “Yes!” “Remember who you’re speaking to.” “Yes, Mistress Belle!” “Good. Are you sure you want it?” “Absolutely. I want to drown in your juices, Mistress Belle.” He couldn’t see me smiling at the role reversal. The magic red soles had brought Her out. I always loved it when She came out to play. So did Adam. Knowing full well that dirty talk fired him up, I layered it on thick. “I’ve been knickerless all day and I’m rampantly horny after you made me expose myself to pretty much the entirety of Paris. Can you handle it if I smear every drop from my dripping pussy over your face and tongue? Will you completely surrender yourself to my hot, wet, naked cunt?” I knew the answer already and didn’t wait for one. Without warning I plunged and his tongue quickly and expertly found home. Riding his face was far and away the most eye-popping experience of our relationship. It wasn’t simply his technique in which he probed his long tongue deep into my folds, slipped it back out coated in my juice and slathered it all the way up my slit to circle my waiting clitoris, before returning for more. While that was terrific and his inventive pussy eating always left me spent yet praying for repeats, it was the sheer selflessness with which he went about it that drove me to the highest highs. It was as if he couldn’t get enough and wasn’t satisfied until I’d drenched his face, often more than once. Like I was a Goddess and my nectar was the elixir of youth that he craved. Unless lucky enough to be on the receiving end, it’s difficult to appreciate the power of being revered that way. To be wanted and adored for what I could give him while simultaneously achieving the most incredible orgasms was a significant trip, and regularly produced staggering quantities of come. The fact She was in the room could only make things better. I ground my rus escort pussy against his nose and lips, completely smothering him at times, each touch causing me to jump as if his tongue was a taser. For his part, like a pussy-eating version of the Terminator, he never stopped, never gave up, never missed a stroke. Within minutes I was a quivering wreck on his face, escalating cries of passion echoing off the badly decorated walls. He reached up and grabbed my thighs to draw me to him, to pull me harder against his insistent tongue, to ensure his teeth grazed and nibbled the edges of my burning pearl, to give my body exactly what it needed. Past caring about my earlier misdemeanours onboard public transport, I let go of my feelings, indulging in the freedom to finally express myself without moderation. As my orgasm inevitably bubbled to the surface and I began to boil over, all I could do was shut my eyes tightly, lean back and support myself on his thighs. My impromptu triangle allowed him to drive his tongue deep into my wetness and as I dug my fingertips into his legs, I found myself grinding against his face and screaming as I came. Clamped against his nose and chin, I flooded him with my sticky nectar. The walls of my pussy convulsed and I rode each contraction hard, pressing myself so fully against him that his air supply was often momentarily cut off. The vibrations of him humming in pleasure against my sex, the supremacy I held and the wet suction of him struggling for air added to the deep pulses that were broadcast from the epicentre; sexual sonar waves at the perfect frequency to which my body could respond. And respond it did, each part of me feeding back its own signal to acknowledge reception of the orgasmic beacon. Disparate components became one, connected by an invisible force that throbbed and spun to the rhythmical drumming that was pounding from my very essence. My heart beat rapidly and I was suddenly very hot. My internal jukebox chose those two factors to cue up ‘Paris is Burning’ by LadyHawke. The lyrics went round and round my eryaman escort head as my hips bucked against Adam’s face, movements intensifying then gradually lessening as the convulsions slowly began to wane and my other senses switched back on one by one. The sensitivity of my midsection peaked and I shot my pelvis up as if electrocuted. He tried to pull me back to him for more, but I was locked in position above him, the only thing joining our lips being hair-like, translucent strings of my come. I stayed that way for as long as my arms would allow, mind racing, body fused, eventually drifting downward and back a little to straddle his chest and leave an imprint of my sticky sex on his T-shirt. Looking down past my heaving chest at his face smeared with my juices, along with his expression of pure joy, made me melt all over again. I dragged my hands up along his thighs as I righted myself and used the motion to lightly brush his rigid cock. Straining against his shorts, proud and ready, it wanted to enter me. And it would get its chance, just not quite yet as I needed to recuperate. Reversing from him the way I had approached on all fours, I crawled away, maintaining eye contact. Over his stomach, past his groin and willing erection, sliding between his legs and over the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor, I came to rest looking up at his shorts. Snaking my hand along his leg beneath the material and back again I watched his manhood tenting, then reached across for his zip. With deliberate slowness I crept the zipper down and glided my hand inside to feel the tumescence within. A wet patch was evident in his boxers and I hooked my hands into the gap, fighting to release my prize. It sprang free and pointed straight up from his fly, hot and delicious. Without wasting a second I ran my fingers over its veined length, marvelling at the contours of the mushroom head and the way the whole muscle jumped to my touch. The smooth, flanged and tapered tip of his circumcised rod symbolised power, yet the tool was next to useless without a willing participant to share its influence. I was more than willing, drooling at the thought of feeling it split my still aching insides. Wanting to ride him until I went numb from exertion. Circling my fingers into a loose fist I jacked his shaft a few times, gratified by the extra intakes of breath my actions drew.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32