Senses
Summary: The five (?) senses as felt by Her, snippets of the love-making act with Him…
First – and only- attempt at fanfiction, just the one "story" I felt I should write and therefore hope you will enjoy (well, some of you at least!).
Taste
Tobacco, single malt…No, not overbearing (when did he have his last cigarette and drink? Who knows? Time now officially standing still.) No, he tastes nothing like tobacco and alcohol, he tastes…him, like no one and nothing else.
Smell
Him again. Once the clothes were removed, there is only a slight whiff of smoke on his skin left. Man-stink, my arse! His skin is fair, almost translucent at points, his scent is manly, yes, but mild. After all, faint traces of this morning's aftershave and shower gel indicate that his habits are more "poofy" than he would ever like to admit (DON'T tell him that!). He just smells of, well…him, and, infused with the sexual pheromones of his, now obvious, arousal, the result is intoxicating.
Touch
HIS touch. Long, graceful fingers covering her breasts, toying with them until brought swiftly to their peak – so intensely she thinks the blood will burst out of her nipples. One of those hands travels up to her face. A long finger is granted access to her mouth while the rest of the hand caresses her face and lips. Tenderness and lust, the perfect combination.
Touch
HER touch. Her hands travelling within the smooth waters of his back, the right one heading cheekily southwards to feel the smoothness and firmness of his left buttock. The left one, jealous, travels upstream, feeling the equally satisfying paths of his neck and forever disappears in the golden fields of his hair.
Sound
Her breasts alternating in his mouth, the sound of sucking and kissing a real turn-on. His appreciative murmurs whilst with his mouth full (he REALLY loves them "tits", to use his term, doesn't he?) bring a coy smile to her face…
Taste
Thick, hard, engorged. She can feel the pounding veins on her tongue. The taste of the stretched skin, covering a steel interior, overwhelms her, as does his size. She wants to taste the whole of him as she tries to suck and lick every single inch. The back of her throat gets a taste as well, before little sleek, salty droplets add to the entrancing mixture. She would welcome the whole eventual flood but knows he won't let her; he's got other plans…
Touch
His mouth is on her. Kissing, exploring, licking, lapping. She can feel his tongue travel all paths of her folds and, when it finds a place of interest, his lips join in. Lips, tongue, teeth, she can feel every single move. His fingers are apparently not needed here, his mouth is enough to drive her to insanity.
Sound
No, this won't help. This won't help at all (where are the earplugs?). She does NOT want to come so soon, yet his mouth's ministrations are enhanced by the sounds they produce. The sucking of his lips, the wet noise of the hard work his tongue is doing to keep up with lapping up her juices, now in full, unashamed flow, and his little grunts and moans, escaping his throat and muffled by his position, his face almost inside her.
Sight
His face almost inside her… THIS was a mistake as well, opening the eyes and looking down (what were you thinking?). Locks of golden blond hair mingled with her dark pubes, his eyes shut as he concentrates on his mission. And then…for just one moment…his face emerges for air – eyes glazed, lips wet and swollen. Two pairs of eyes lock, his face submerges back to work but his blue, intense (oh, so sexy!) gaze remains on her (oh, this is too much!)…
SENSES' OVERLOAD – SENSES' OVERLOAD!...
…
[Back to our regular transmission]
(Testing- testing: yes, all senses back, body and soul slowly returning to earth)
Sight
Eyes flutter slowly open. His face the first thing on sight. Two locks of blond hair flopping on his forehead. A grin (smug bastard!). Ah, dimples…the dimples forming there. Slowly but yet suddenly, the grin has faded – what's wrong? Why so ser…?
Touch
Ah, that's why…He's in. Inside her. No words to describe, no words at all spring to mind…Now, only bodies touching from head to toe. Hands no longer touching but grabbing. His tight, round buttocks in her palms, grabbing with every single one of his thrusts, her nails digging into his flesh every time he hits the right spot. This will sting tomorrow. She wants to apologise for his future pain but can't, no words…
Taste
Mouths reunited but something's changed. Her…She can taste herself in his mouth now, remnants of her oh so epic arousal still on his tongue. She needs to exit, or else her second climax will be faster than she wants. Mouth moving southwards, change of taste. Salty. Small droplets of sweat lapped up from his long neck whilst her teeth bite softly, yet dominantly, down the sensitive flesh. Her mouth is having a feast.
Sight
All she can see at first is gold. His hair dipping into her face as he moves even deeper inside her but then he slightly raises himself. There he is, strong, long-limbed, powerful (oh, so sexy!), a man in his absolute prime, old enough to have experienced some of life's roller-coaster rides, young enough to conquer and rule the whole world if he chooses to. But not tonight (please, not tonight!), tonight his conquest is just her, and he is all hers…
Sight
His face…the eyes…the lips…the hair flopping over…A proper, handsome adult. Yet…even now, in full flow over her, the adult's face flickers with sparks of a boy (where is that boy? does he live behind those eyes?), sometimes mischievous but mostly shy, vulnerable, adorable (DON'T tell him that!). A boy/man? (well, he certainly does NOT feel like a boy right now, eh, luvvie?)
Sound
Sighs have now turned to full-on grunts. Her cries seem like whispers to her ears compared to his noises. You just can't keep a wild lion caged for too long. Boy/man? Hahaha, how stupid that thought seems now, when the adult lion shows his mate why he is the king! She can swear she can hear a woman's voice crying out incoherent words, crying out his name, but it sure does not feel it's her, no…, she is just…floating in…what? (Ecstasy, my love.)
Sight
The golden mane, the fiery eyes, the glistening chest, his left hand on her breast and (oh, don't look down, you'll come too soon!)…his cock thrusting into her with such speed and force now, it all becomes a blur…aaahhhhh, too late!...
SENSES' OVERLOAD! - Will return to our regular programme shortly, please wait…
…
Sound/Taste/Touch/Smell
His mouth on hers…It's over (for him too? Oh, perfection!) Now, his mouth on hers, that's all that matters. Sight not back yet, but it doesn't matter, not now…
Smell
His hair, a cheeky lock almost in her nostrils, overpowering even the smell of their exquisite coupling.
Sound
His light snoring, reverberating in her chest, as he sleeps on top of her. And every now and then, soft, short moans as he is slightly fidgeting in his sleep (sweet boy…-NEVER tell him that!)…
Sound
Why can she hear only one heart? Well, perhaps there's only one between them now (soppy romantic!)…
Touch
…if there's one heart between them, could there be ONE body as well? Have they merged irrevocably into one entity? Where their bodies touch, it's sweat and fire and warmth. Their whole front bodies touch so the warmth is everywhere. His breath on her breasts, his hair in the lower half of her face, his right hand entwined with her left, her right one flat on his back (don't draw circles on it, you'll wake him…).
Touch
(You ARE a soppy romantic, aren't you?) Her lips unavoidably kiss his hair as she struggles not to hold him tighter in her arms (don't! you'll wake him…)
Touch
He's still inside her. They will both wake up in the morning still as one.
Sight
A tilt of her chin downwards gives her enough view. Of half of his head, the other half hidden in her chest, the shutters on those beautiful blue orbs now down, ending in those long lashes she now feels so tempted to kiss, to feel them feathering her lips. Mouth closed but lips slightly parted. Expression serene, contented, peaceful…The boy/man is back and the sight proves too much for her…Lids closing, his image imprinted at their back…no escape (except for that tiny tear from the edge of her right eye, that is…).
…
What is this? Is it the "other" sense, the hidden, unspoken one? Or is it pure emotion? Whatever it is, it has taken complete control over her as she drifts into a senses-numbing sleep, ironically whilst feeling her whole being reawakened. Tomorrow…all over again…Him…He and she, nothing else…
…
(Sleep.)