Yoooo kids, let's celebrate for the next three months!
I started writing this last week, before 8.16 happened. However, it can easily fit as the scene that comes after, the one we haven't seen yet *wink wink*.
You must know, this is pure sex. Plain and simple. And it's quite explicit. You've been warned. Please, do tell me what you think, or whether or not you wish me to continue this.
Thanks! and happy Darvey writing ;)
The most accurate myth of femininity he knows, stands in front of him, with the straps of her nightgown at just an inch of distance from falling. His fingers make that nightgown go away. A hand holds her glute, the other one intertwines into her hair. She kneels on top of her bed, facing him.
"Look at me." he says.
She does, but she immediately goes back to stare at his lips. His lips which were screaming for her to eat them.
Instead, she grabs his hand, presses her middle and ring fingers beside his middle finger and takes the hand against her bare abdomen. Now, she makes his palm apply pressure, while her nails subtly scratch the back of his hand. She keeps staring at his mouth; her own mouth is segregating bigger amounts of saliva. Her stomach pushes inside of her, asking her to satisfy the need. Her vagina contracts at a uniform pace, getting more and more anxious at every second.
His hand starts sliding down. His fingertips reach the silk of her panties, and they get past it, touching her pubic bone. She mouths… and she spreads her legs wider. He doesn't go on, because he wants her to handle this however she wants. She takes his hand again; with her hand on top of his, she pushes his middle finger down. Her hand goes down a little more, and his finger lands where it's supposed to. Her clitoris sends a hit of electricity through her body, and she moans. Softly, subtly and deliciously. Her eyes shut tight, and her lips form a very discreet smile. He rubs her flesh very slowly, carefully, observing where and how his touch makes her writhe.
His other hand escapes, runs slowly up towards her hip, and further to her butt. That beautiful, tender and round flesh. He caresses it; he feels it, he pictures what he likes to do with it. Meanwhile, he keeps moving his middle finger between her lips, and she keeps moaning.
"Clench" Donna says. And he gladly does; he squeezes the skin in his palm, and she rests her left hand on his shoulders for support. Her right hand is still pushing his into her genitals. His finger tip feels hard against her wet flesh, and every pore of her body emanated heat.
She tilts her head back involuntarily, and groans softly once more; almost like a purr, like the tales we read about the greek goddesses, like Aphrodite, like a female version of Eros. No other woman had the gifts this particular woman had, he knew.
Her hand pulls his up gently, indicating him to stop. She stares; her neck is burning, so is his. Her knees raise a bit and move her backwards; she keeps staring, but with a defying look. Like a cat that knows will get the mouse, but she's just waiting for it to fall into her trap. She leans on her arms, and then lays on her back, displayed in front of him. He takes one step forward, and his knees touch the covers.
She keeps staring; her legs rise slowly, and they open, asking him to get between them. He bends, and he reaches the silk of her panties once more. Her hips rise too, and just as synchronized, his hands slide down the undergarment, and he enjoys the heat of anticipation he sees in her pupils and the pleasure he feels himself by seeing what he coveted for so many years.
The silk hits the floor. His body pounces over hers. Her nails scratch the back of his shoulders; her thighs wrap his waist. He takes her cheeks between his hands, and while she closes her eyes, she feels the pounding of her pulse in her clitoris.
A breath of air; of tense air, of unsatisfied desire, a breath of supplicant lust. Her eyes say now, please.
He kisses her chest. Then he goes down, wetting the skin that covers her sternum meanwhile, his palms squeeze the softness of her breasts. Her lower abdomen contracts when she feels his lips caressing. Her vagina contracts desperately. She wants to tell him to rush, but she can't get her mind to elaborate the words. Even those simple words. But her body does; when he's kissing just below her navel, he feels the temperature of her thighs rounding up his neck, and simultaneously, a gently tug on his hair.
He runs his mouth above the rest of her abdomen, and her pubic bone. Then she feels her legs opening, and his hands beneath them. She opens her eyes and looks down; he glances at her. His right hand, which rubs the inside of her thigh, disappears from her vision range.
She sees him staring at her vulva; the sight of that only, made her unbearably wet. Then she feels the hardness of the tip of his middle finger on her vagina; circling, waiting for it to come in.
A moan. A hard one. He was being painfully patient, because what he was seeing is what he liked the most.
His finger gets in. She moans again. Louder. Her hands grasp the blankets at her sides. Her mouth opens, and her chest raises and lowers with intensity. Her hips thrust against his hand. Another finger comes in, and he presses. Seconds pass; his fingers dance. Her whole body arches backwards. The sounds are growing… so is the tension inside of her. Her eyes start pouring tears, and she grabs a pillow that holds above her head and squeezes inside her fists.
She feels like she's going to burst out of the limits of her own body. She can't moan louder enough either. Her skin exploding and her bones breaking while the energy gets out. He pushes his fingers against her contracted inner muscles while his other hand rests on her belly. What a gorgeous view.
He wonders how could he take so damn long.
