Waltzing in the Night
I remember it all as if it were a dream, and maybe it is. It hardly matters any longer. I just know that you are always there. In some form, in some way, you're there. Because it does always come back to you...
"Come on baby, it'll be alright..." Soft eyes hold such a devious glint. But there is a warmth behind it all, underneath everything that only he could ever detect. Because it was for him, and him alone.
She watches him so imploringly. She wants him to say yes. She needs him to. It is a fire inside of her, started by desire and tempered by lust.
He can only avert his eyes, a slight blush forming on his cheeks, even in the pale yellowed light of candles. No one had ever touched him like that. No one wanted to. Especially no woman. He honestly doesn't know what to think. It keeps his eyes averted from her intent gaze upon him.
She reaches up and delicately strokes his cheek, holding his face in the palm of her hand. A smile twitches faintly over her lips, and she leans down to give a small kiss to the tip of his nose.
He still does not look up at her, though his eyes do raise from the floor, if only slightly.
This small action makes her smile wide, on the inside. She knows she is winning and she couldn't be more delighted by that fact. She leans forward just a little more, her mouth almost against his ear, to whisper near feverishly, "I'm sure you might even like it, Vince..."
He doesn't react. As to be expected. So she gently turns his face to look at her, her fingers softly hooking under his chin. This action brings him to look up, into her shining eyes. It lets him see the smile playing on her lips. He can see the love hiding around her, almost mocking the lust that wants to simply radiate from her every pore and fiber.
She wants this. So much. He doesn't know how to say no to her, or even if he wants to say no to her anymore. It is with that thought that he lowers his gaze again and barely nods his head. He doesn't know what else to do in the situation. It all seems so crazy to him, though he knows he would not trade it for the world. She is there with him.
It makes her smile as she leans back to sit fully on his thighs once more. She knows she is happy enough to simply hug him, but she won't. She'll be satisfied with her plan, and hug him later. He really might deserve it this time. The thought makes her smile a tad more brilliantly.
She lays him down gently, kissing his so soft lips as she goes. For this, she wants him on his back. He only gives in, not resisting at all. He slowly melts into the kiss. He does it only for her, he does this only for her, and she knows it. It makes her proud, in some way.
She kisses down from his mouth, over his jaw, and past his neck. Always teasing him. It brings her joy and satisfaction. She continues downward past his collar, slowly in search of a nipple. But she has other things in mind. Especially with the finally given permission. Her hands are not idle.
Her mouth is simply a means to keep him relaxed and at ease. She knows that he is uncomfortable with what she asked, what she's doing. She knows it, but she still wants it. And that knowledge is what finally made him crack. She knows that, as well. It makes her want to hold him forever and whisper sweet loving nothings in his ear, though she know it will never happen.
His eyes widen at her gentle touch, soft but firm. He knew it was coming, but he hadn't expected it all the same. A soft half whisper of her name is all he can think to say before she quiets him, one of her hands gently stroking the side of his face. Soothing any fear he may have, comforting anything else that might come to mind. She is there to make it all better.
Her fingers are cool and slick inside of him. It isn't quite like anything he's ever felt before. Not from a woman. Not from someone so, eagerly, patiently, wantingly. He knows he is being taken advantage of, but in this moment, he is willing. That makes everything different for him. No other time has he been willing, and he knows that despite that major difference, this is still somehow far different.
She descends, kissing him firmly as her fingers slowly pump in and out of him. She loves the feeling so much. It feels nothing but good to her. The feel of his skin, so soft and rich; the taste of his lips, so sweet and velvety; the warmth that clings to him, all over his skin, so hot and becoming. To her it is the start of bliss and she knows she cannot get enough. Not when her lust has just finally been completely set on fire.
She has everything of him at last, and she simply wants to savor the moment, but she knows she will have time for that later. She wants all of him while she can have him. She is not one to waste. It is this that continues to drive her, making way for what is to come. She wants to see his face in that moment. She needs to see his reaction.
He pants softly as she lowers herself onto him. He knows that is only half of it, that she is merely situating herself for what she truly had planned. So wicked and devious. He knows he truly is not that much better, though he finds her far more beautiful. Perhaps that is what makes it all okay. The beauty of a thing, and he sees her beauty in many different ways.
She smiles near lovingly at the look on his face. Half gasping in astonishment, partly confused. He looks so lost, as well as if he was about to walk into a sea known as pleasure. The desire on his face is clearly readable. She is thralled by the slight contortion of confusion. She knows she caused it. And all because of a gentle thrust of her hand. It really does make her smile.
She pulls the toy from his body to thrust it more fully back inside. Her eyes glaze a little more, her smile becoming a smirk, all at the soft gasp that falls from his lips at her actions. She needs him, and she needs him like this. She couldn't be more thankful for talking him into it. Not at all. She almost wishes she had tied his hands up, or maybe his legs. But she knows that she can store those ideas for another time.
She moves the toy inside of him again, beginning a steady rhythm, one she can easily counter. Once she establishes the motions with her hand, she steadies herself with her other, starting a counter-rhythm, thrusting over him. The feeling brings a tight smile to her lips and forces her eyes closed.
The only thing she loves more than the feelings, the pleasures she knows she is creating, are the soft sounds the one beneath her is making. His voice is so lovely to her ears. It only fuels her desires. And her desires only fuel pleasures.
I remember the moments like these, so warm in contrast to most others. Either way she is always there, but it is nice to know that sometimes it was completely mutual; sensual as well as consensual. It is little memories like those that make all the difference in remembering the pleasure or simply remembering the pain.