BlazeErotica IV - My perfect, romantic memory
For those of you who have been keeping up with my writing
adventures, I've jokingly begun to call it BlazeErotica.
:)
He gave me the romance I didn't know I craved. He and
I met over the internet and it was two months before we decided
to see whether or not the chemistry we had here would crossover
to real life. That's not an easy task, as some of you
know. For me in particular, it's very hard. There was
no guarantee that he'd be able to affect me in the same
manner. No certainty that the feel would be the same. I'm
a woman, remember, so giving myself to someone isn't
an easy decision. With him, I craved it. I needed it. I wasn't
going to fight it and expectations be damned, I had hope.
We decided on dinner at 8, in New York City, where I am on a
frequent basis because of travel. I had butterflies the
entire day and they kept getting stronger as I bathed and
got ready. I wore black, because that's what I normally
do, a curve hugging dress that dips low, V-neck along the
cleavage and falls to the knees, just above where the calf
and knee meet, exposing that little dip. I knew he was taller
than I so I settled on heels that would, hopefully, bring
me to eye level, to mouth level. I don't normally wear
jewelry, just an orb of gold on my left thumb that is never
removed but that's another story. Scented, ready,
I left the hotel and went to meet him.
You hear about these things happening but they never happen
to you, and yet I sit here and attest that they do happen.
I'd seen him in pictures so I knew what to expect. I walked
in and immediately spotted him at the bar. We were both early,
he a fraction earlier than I. Not a moment after I laid eyes
on him, he looked up, almost as if he'd sensed me, and
our eyes locked, his blue on my brown, and palpable electricity
flowed between us. I knew then and there. I lowered my eyes
because my legs didn't seem to hear my motion command,
felt the heat of a blush and when I raised my gaze, he was moving
towards me. I averted my gaze again and inwardly grinned
but before I could extend my hand for a shake, I was enveloped
in his arm and drawn to his chest, my cheek lay flat against
it and I realized two things, he was taller and thicker than
I thought and I didn't want to move.
I won't bore you with too many details of how the night
progressed, I know you want the details that count. I'll
only say that it was he who set the pace and he chose slow,
languid and deliciously torturous. I'm not sure if
he knew how I was feeling, if he did he masked it much better
than I, but by the time the after dinner drink came, I was
intoxicated on more than one level. After dinner, when
we both knew it was time, we both fell silent and the journey
back to my hotel was strange.
He held my right hand with his
right, his left kept on my bare knee, his fingers in both
places in constant motion. My skin tingled and maybe the
anticipation intensified his touch but I haven't
had my hands feel so erotic since. Still, sometimes, I bring
my wrist to my lips, because just the memory of his touch
gives me reason to make sure it's not really there.
To the hotel and up the elevator, he never stopped touching
me, looking at me, setting me into a slow smolder of want
with just those two actions. Though I was leading to the
room, it was he who guided me with the palm of his left hand
at the small of my back, all the while caressing my hand with
his right. Working the key was unecessary, he took it from
my hand and opened the door for us. I excused myself to freshen
up and his grin was unmistakable when he opened the bathroom
door and ushered me inside with the same, gentle push of
his hand on my lower back. My nerves made me stay in there
longer than necessary.
This is where it gets interesting.
I came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, to a darkened
room lit with several small candles, all scented. He remembered.
Vanilla and a combination of apples and cinnamon were as
rich throughout the room as the glow of their light was warm
and I was awed. If you knew the animalistic way our internet
play had been, you'd understand my perplexion but
I digress.
I couldn't hold back the small smile that
appeared when I found him standing nude, and very ready,
by the desk.
He walked to me and my mind wandered to that old poem... she
walks in beauty like the night. Without a single word both
his hands raised and he slipped his fingers into my hair,
right at the temples, and drew me closer. I was sure he was
going to ravage me. He was full of surprises. With both his
hands on my face, his thumbs on each of my temples, his other
fingers within my hair, he leaned down to kiss me and though
I presented my mouth, more than eagerly, he kissed my forehead
instead. Slowly he covered every inch of my face with kisses,
brushes from his lips; the fleeting thought I had wondering
why was quickly replaced by tempered frustration because
I had promised to allow him to do anything he wanted and that
I wouldn't question. By the time he took my mouth I was
breathless with want and pressing myself into him invitingly.
I was limp against his much larger frame and I had to use both
my hands to cling to his hips.
To say his kiss was marvelous would not do him justice so
I'll only say what it did to me. Each slow swipe of his
tongue against my lower lip sent tingles up and down my spine.
Don't kiss me back, he had said, and I'm not sure
I could have, at that moment, all I could manage was to tilt
my head back and fall into his kiss willingly, lips parted
and breath quickened.
Every time he dipped his tongue into
my mouth and grazed a small taste of mine, I gasped because
it was always unexpected, always sensual, always left
me wanting more. I don't know how long he kissed me for,
I remember feeling him hard against me, taking me from slow
burning to sizzling and back down to a simmer. The more he
took my mouth, the more it made me ache to be touched but he
wouldn't, not this one. I vaguely remember thinking
how he was kissing me exactly how I'd said I liked to
be kissed.
He took his mouth away and left me breathless as he began
to trail down over my jaw and down the length of my neck, his
hand brushing my hair aside as my hands stayed clinging
to his hips. When he reached the base of my neck he opened
his mouth and put his teeth against that spot where my shoulders
meet my neck. He opened his mouth wide and drug his tongue,
without suction, over my skin. My flesh responded with
goosebumps... perfect. My head lolled to the side in silent
plea and he intuitively bit me harder and sucked, the imprint
of my nails dug their mark into his hips as I let a single moan
escape.
My memory gets unclear after this... his peeling off my
dress while still keeping his mouth on me, his hands never
touching that which ached to be touched, his smell, his
breathing, his hardness against the skin of my belly, his
turning me around and moving my hair to the side to continue
the torture of his mouth now on my back.
.. the growls of frustration
he emitted but never gave into. His control amazed me, his
mouth set me on fire.
My bra, the flimsy black of my panties, all peeled away without
my being conscious of it. It was hard for me to stand and somehow
along the way, as he knelt in front of me and continued to
lick, bite and suck on my everything, my hands ended up gripping
the edge of the desk, my ass pressed against it. Lips, wetness,
warmth at my ankles, along the straps of my high-heeled
sandals, up, up, so fucking slowly up along the back of my
calf, forward to my knee, hands moving, possessing, teasing.
A blur of nothing but sensations, aches and wants, needs
and passions. He moved me, somehow along the way, until
I was prone on the bed and didn't give a fuck about my
promise and I started begging him to let me touch him.
It didn't matter how much I begged, he wouldn't
give in and when his mouth finally took my pussy, I came so
quickly, so earth-shatteringly strong that I shook violently.
He allowed me the release and continued to kiss me, gentler
after I came, until I recovered enough to stir. When he knew,
and somehow he knew, I was capable of taking his mouth on
me again, he spread my lips and tasted what he was responsible
for. He lapped at me and the muffled sounds of his moans told
me he enjoyed it as much if not more than I did. He'd get
more intense, more demanding in his licks, as if the wetter
I got, the more he wanted to drink.
He'd stop himself
every time I got close, however, guided by the increasing
loudness of my moans and the jerked movements of my hips,
and wouldn't let me cum again. I hated him for that...
I loved him for that. When I came again, when he allowed me
to cum again, after his tongue had tasted every possible
inch of skin, after his fingers had probed and curled both
quickly and slowly, I did so in wave after wave of pleasure.
His mouth, kinder with my first orgasm, refused to leave
my clit and he kept licking, fingering, moaning vibrations
into me that sent me into a heaven of pleasure, bountiful
and intense, unparalleled prior to that moment.
I was sweaty and still panting when he rolled me over onto
my stomach though his breathing easily rivalled mine.
He laid on top of me and calmed us both by nuzzling my neck
and hair, by drawing his hands over my body, by moving against
me until my legs parted to accomodate his knees. He kept
me flat on the bed, pinned by his massive weight and height
and yet his touch was gentle, his nails with just enough
pressure to let me know he wasn't going to hold back
any longer. He'd been hard this entire time and it seemed
like ages had gone past. The smell of the candles was now
mingled with the musk of sex and to me, the combination was
alluring.
With the slow control of determination, he entered me.
He spread my ass and then drug his hands over my hips, ribs
and arms, until they lay over mine and twined with my fingers.
He squeezed his hands closed just as he was penetrating
me and his groan of pleasure when he reached my deepest part
made me quiver. He lay still for a long time, kissing the
back of my shoulders, biting me on occassion when I squeezed,
whispering into my ear... He began to move slowly and our
position kept me in check, unable to move, at his mercy.
Pleasure began to build again in me, each thrust of his fucking
inching me closer again to orgasm. He filled me completely
and when he pulsed I could feel it. I knew to lie still when
he did, knew that had I attempted to move he'd have cum
and though his body was ready, his mind clearly wanted to
hold back. He kept me there, pinned beneath him, fucking
me from behind, for a long, long time, so long that my body
knew the length of him so well that it instinctively tightened
around him when he was all the way in. I came as he ground into
me with languid slowness and I think it surprised him for
he released his grip of my hands to still my hips. After I
came, he slid both his hands under my hips to my clit and dipped
his fingers into the wetness there... when he put all four
of his fingers against my still throbbing clit, he began
to move again, this time without holding back.
Instead of pounding into me all at once, his speed gradually
began to go faster, his bites stronger, his grunts deeper,
hungrier.
He fucked me as if we had been in the missionary
position, whispering into my ear, grazing his teeth against
the back of my neck instead of the front, his fingers moving
against my clit while he simultaneously moved into my pussy
from behind. His thrusts became faster, rougher the closer
he got but I was too involved with my impending climax that
I didn't notice. The room was loud with our pleasure,
wet, moaning, needy, desperate. The closer I got the more
I needed it and the more he seemed to want to get us both there.
Tension built into feral need quickly, demandingly, uncaring
of his want to wait or my need to linger. Rapturously we reached
peak at the same moment... bliss in the form of an explosion
of a build up that took months to create and that moment to
become complete. I felt his cum hit the deepest part of me
and I coaxed every last drop out with each of my contractions.
Drained... exhausted... sated, we lie, him atop me bearing
all his weight, me beneath, stuck to him, our sweat and cum
the glue.
Later, when the romance of the first had given way to experimentation,
need, euphoria and power struggles, I lay in his arms marvelling
at the perfection of that first touch while he slept entangled
in me and the light from the candles was replaced by the glow
of impending dawn...