Synthesis9
Moira straddled her husband. Running her hands up his bare arms as she carefully tied his wrists to the headboard. She tilted her head, examining her work, expression serious as she tested the ribbons securing him. Slid her fingers along his muscles. Scooted down his nearly naked body to rest on the green boxers he still wore. "I'm not sure. I think the headboard will hold but you need to be careful, sweetie. If you get off at full throttle you might break it and we need to be careful. Okay? John? John, are you listening?"
John was smiling, shifting under her. Staring in enamored delight. Moira had stripped to her purple bra and panties. Purple socks were still on her feet which he found adorable. Loose hair swirling around her bare skin. "So fucking beautiful, baby," he muttered. "I'm already at half salute here so you had better hurry before I do get off...oh damn damn..."
Moira smiled. Kissed him. Savoring the fullness of his lips, the taste of his mouth. Deep, hungry kisses as her fingers played upon his long, lean body. "I want to pleasure you, John," she breathed hotly into his ear.
"Fuck. I should try romance more often," he wryly observed. Moaned in tension, arousal as she slid down his body. Her mouth kissing, nipping, teasing. She nibbled along his waist, along his pelvic bone as she tugged the boxers. "Moira...baby...now..." He pulled at the bonds on his wrists, testing them. Still in control enough that he wouldn't break them. Not just yet.
"I want to pleasure you, John," she repeated. Fingers dancing along his crotch. Along his increasingly hard erection. She kissed along his thigh. John jerked, groaning as she nibbled. "My John," she said hotly. "Mine." Her fingers slid between his legs, his thighs. "How are the boys, sweetie?" she teased. Caressing, catching them in her hands.
John moaned, jerking. "Fuck! You are killing me, baby! Please, continue," he urged, voice hoarse.
Moira kissed slowly against the silky fabric. Mouthing his very hard erection. John thrust, nearly thrashed. Yanked at the bonds on his wrists so hard he almost broke them. He shifted, arching in absolute pleasure, torment. As she ran her wet mouth up, up the length of him. Abruptly circled the head and took him in. Gently, gently applied pressure with her lips, teeth. Biting suddenly and sucking at the same time.
John lost his breath, coming hard and fast. "Fuck! Oh Moira! God, oh God that is sweet! Moira! Fuck, fuck!" he exulted, thrashing. Nearly breaking the headboard as his arms strained, yanking. He heard the ribbons rip which only turned him on more. The feel of her mouth, the tight, hot wetness. The pressure and sucking nearly undoing him. Even as her fingers played delicately with his balls. He groaned loudly, grunting. One ribbon snapped as he yanked his arms, thrusting up, up into her mouth. Coming roughly. Quickly. "Moira! Moira! Oh God, God!" He nearly sat, fell back, breathing deeply as she abruptly freed him. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"John? Are you all right? You're starting to spill, soldier," she teased breathlessly. Voice hot, heavy. Face flushed, eyes bright. Body tight with need. Flooding with desire. Lust.
He looked at her, the observations only making the unfulfilled agony worse. His erection throbbing. Body tense, straining. "I know," he tersely informed. "Untie me."
"No." She smiled. "Not yet." She slid up, frowned. Grabbed another ribbon and secured his free arm back to the headboard. "You are too strong, John, for these ribbons. Too strong." She ran her mouth down his arm, nibbling the muscle. Slid down him to kiss his lips. "So fucking strong, colonel...so fucking hard..." she whispered. "I could ride you, John. Or give you a hand job. Either way you'd come," she offered.
John was staring in fascinated passion. Lust. "I said untie me, baby," he refuted, playing along. Wanting to see how far she would go. Wanting her.
She shook her head. "No." She ran her hands down his chest, his sides. Along his hips. Eyes raking over him. "God...do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are, colonel? Oh, I suppose you do...you with your lots some women. Every inch of you, John..." She scooted so he could feel her arousal on his thigh. She caught hold of his cock. Stiff in the wet, clingy material of his shorts. "Hmm...maybe I'll just tease your cock and leave."
He scowled. "You wouldn't dare, baby."
"Wouldn't I?" She caressed, making him shift. Squeezed, making him groan.
"Easy there, baby...that's not one of your popsicles!"
She laughed. "Isn't it? I thought you liked it rough, sweetie? Wanted me to bite?" She mouthed him again. Took him in and bit gently. Then a little harder. A little harder.
"Ouch! I'm not kidding, Moira...oh fuck, oh fuck," he sighed as her bite gentled into a sucking, swirling that made him jerk in her mouth. Made him tense and almost spurt.
She freed him, shook her head. "Can't you hold it, John? Geez!" She swatted his cock, slid up his body again. She kissed him. A full, generous kiss.
John yanked. The ribbons ripped as the headboard creaked loudly. Moira started, freeing his mouth but he grabbed her, held her in place. Kissing her greedily. He slid down the straps of the bra, unhooked it and yanked if off her. "My turn. Don't move. Hold onto the headboard," he growled. He lifted his head to kiss her collarbone.
Moira gasped, whimpered as he sloppily mouthed her bare breasts. Sucking the hard nipples. Gently, gently nibbling as he slid under her. Lifting to possess, to tease. As she arched, helpless, straddled over him awkwardly. She moaned as he tugged, teased, then slid his mouth down her waist. Hands on her thighs, then her hips as he traveled.
His hands ran long her sides and abruptly to her rear to squeeze, squeeze. Suddenly slide between her legs. "Hold onto the headboard, baby, because this is going to be rough," he warned, voice harsh. Fingers sliding along her cleft, feeling the drenched material of her panties. He kissed down her waist, along her thigh. Shoving her legs apart.
"John! John, no, no, I'll be too loud!" she warned, breathless. Leaning lower now, on her knees over him as he was still beneath her. "Please, John, please, oh God, oh God, oh God..." she exclaimed, straining. Whimpering. Grabbing the headboard as he gently bit her inner thigh, then mouthed her against the panties. His fingers slid along her rear again, into the panties to tease, to pry. As he bit the material, nipping her gently, then pulling down the fabric with his teeth. Moira lost her breath, squirming. Gripping the headboard as the erotic sensations inundated her. "John! Oh John, John, please, please, oh John..." she whimpered. The need escalating.
John yanked them down, freed them and slid them off with his hand. "Nice and wet, baby, fuck," he growled. He kissed up her thigh again, then scooted, lifted. Mouth delving into her as his hands grabbed her rear and squeezed.
Moira cried out, squirming wildly but he held her in place, shoving her down to him as he took possession. "John! Oh John, John!" she shouted, strained, arching and moaning as the pleasure rushed over her. The orgasm so close, so close, then bursting as his sucking, nibbling mouth hit one area. His fingers gliding under her to find another to rub, to probe. Moira tried not to scream, clutching the headboard for dear life as he brought her ruthlessly, unbearably. A double orgasmic rush that brought tears to her eyes. Her body quivering in delightful release, amazement. But suddenly he was gone. She caught her breath in a gasping hitch.
John wiped his mouth, coming at her cries, her noises, her pleasure. He slid out from under her. Moved behind her onto his knees. Pushed her into a deeper lean against the headboard and thrust deeply into her. He groaned in relief, filling every inch of her. Demanding. Shoving. She clenched, tightened but he thrust harder, harder, sliding along her, in her with ease. Grunting with the physical pleasure.
Moira cried out again, nearly smashing her hands into the now slamming headboard but John was there. Snugly in her, on her, grabbing her hands back to the front of the headboard. Then cupping her breasts, kneading and gently pinching the nipples to make her whimper, moan. Then sliding down to tickle the front of her mound, to rub, to insert his fingers as he increased the momentum. Faster and harder as he craved release. Moira's cries coming in time to his every thrust now, his every grunt. Each stroking of his fingers. His name a stammering litany escaping her ragged breaths. Until she became inarticulate. Arching as he gave her yet another intense double climax. She shifted towards his hand as it braced hers on the headboard. Mouthed his finger, his knuckle as the sobbing pleasure overtook her. She bit, bit hard to stifle the rising whimpers and strangling the screams. Clutched the headboard as it slammed, slammed, slammed. As he rocked her with thrust after thrust. Relentless.
John was in ecstasy. Losing himself in the sexual passion, domination. Feeling the bite on his knuckle but only being turned on by it. By the way he was taking her. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh Moira, so fucking tight and sweet! God I could stay hard all day in you!" he growled, moving faster still, bringing himself in a rush of energetic orgasm. Shuddering wildly, spasm after spasm jerking deeply inside her. Unable to stop until he had reached full release. Ejaculating wildly now with each shattering thrust but finally slowing. Easing the tension, the need.
Moira freed his knuckle, gasping. Hitching sobs and moans strangled in her throat as he was still stroking, stroking. Easing himself now with slow motions. She blinked back the tears as he freed the headboard to fondle her breasts. Caressing, running his thumb over the nipples. He ran kisses down her shoulder. Hot breath on her bare skin. He slowed, slowed, unable, unwilling to pull out of her even as the arousal receded. Calming. As her clenching, quivering climax slowed. Relaxed.
"Moira," he breathed. Voice low, possessive. Raw and sexy. He sighed, a pleasured, drained exhalation. He pulled out of her finally. Rested on her a moment. Bodies slick with sweat, with sex. "Let go."
Moira was leaning on the cracked headboard, still clutching it tightly. Her last whimpering moan in the air as he had freed her. She felt locked in place. Echoes of pleasure, of his possession everywhere. Body still thrumming.
"Moira, sweetheart, let go. You can let go," he said quietly. Kissing her cheek. He freed her breast as his other hand finally slid out of her as well. He touched her hand, gently loosened her grasp. Prying her fingers off the wood.
"Oh? Oh..." she realized breathlessly.
John smirked. All but collapsed onto the bed, onto his back. Breathing deeply. Deeply of roses, of sex. Moira scooted wearily next to him, on her aside away from him, catching her breath. Her heart still racing. Endorphins pumping. John felt elated, sated, almost giddy from the orgasmic rushes. The sheer intensity of the sex. He wiped the sweat off his brow, looked over at her. Gaze devouring her messy hair, shapely rear. The curves of her hips and her back. Sweat glistening. She rolled onto her back. He stared at her breasts, waist, crotch. Trickles of liquid on her thighs, between her legs. The sight made him produce a sound low in his throat. He looked back up at her flushed face, wide brown eyes. "Moira. My Moira." He licked his lips. Uncertain of her mood. "Um..."
"I...I guess we showed them, huh, John?" she said wearily.
He smiled, too tired to laugh. "That we did, baby. We showed the whole city this time. And you know what? I don't care."
"You...you outdid yourself, sweetie. Two. Two doubles..." she marveled, still trying to catch her breath. To calm her racing heart.
"Guess that would be four. Wow...a quadruple? That's what you get for going down on me, baby. God that was the hottest thing you've ever done. So far. Hey, you came before the quad so that makes five. Damn."
"Shut up, John," she chastised softly.
"Wow...no wonder you were melting and screaming like that..."
"You...you were too loud, John. My God, the sounds you were making!"
"Alpha male, baby," he reminded. Boasted. He closed his eyes a moment, echoes of pleasure lingering. He felt her move, opened his eyes to see her getting off the bed. "Moira?"
"I'm dying of thirst, John," she rasped, walking to the bathroom. John stared at her swinging hair, her back, her naked rear. He smiled, rested. But got up to follow her, drawn irresistibly.
Moira stood at the sink, drinking greedily from a glass. Slurping the water in quick gulps. Still overcome, enamored, embarrassed. Their wild exuberance, their noisy enjoyment like a bold statement to anyone who may have overheard them. She was disturbed by the biting. She nearly jumped as John appeared behind her. "What?" she asked. Drank some more.
John smiled. Gave roving over her reflection in the mirror. He watched in fascination as a drop of water spilled from her lips to slide along her throat, then down to hang precariously from her rosy nipple. Seeing his stare she frowned, wiped it away to his disappointment. "Me too. Thirsty," he croaked. "Please."
She filled the glass, leaning slightly, her breasts moving together. Her rear just brushing against his crotch. She straightened. "Here." Her voice was a whisper. Uncomfortable at his staring.
He took the glass. Drank greedily. She watched him in the mirror. The long swallows. The water spilling down the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, set the glass aside. Stepping closer to press his body to hers. His hands slid up to cup her breasts. Fondling as he eyed the wedding rings hanging between them. Her hair tickled his chest, his skin. "So beautiful, Moira...so fucking beautiful. I ache for this, you know," he said into her ear.
"John," she complained, her body reacting despite herself, but he turned her to him. Kissed her. A slow, gentle, savoring motion of his mouth on hers. Guiding her rosy lips. Gently teasing her tongue with his own.
He pulled back from her. "We need a shower."
"What?" She watched him move to the shower. Lean in and turn on the water. She smiled at his lean, muscled body. Fading bruises and cuts. "John? No. We can't. You know what will happen in there,"she warned.
"I know," he said mildly. He stepped into the shower. "Ahh...that's feels good! Come on, Moira." He beckoned with one hand. "Don't you leave me alone in here, baby. What if I drop my loofah?"
She laughed. "No, John...it will lead to–"
"I know." He paused, considered. "Seriously, Moira, if I do drop my loofah I'll have trouble retrieving it. My leg is kind of sore now...can't imagine why. Moira? You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"
Moira sighed. Smiled. She stepped to the shower. Opened the curtain to stare upon him. Gulped in sheer admiration at his drenched body. Water streaming all over him. "Oh John...you..." She stepped in as he made room for her. Oblivious to his slow smile, his eager gaze roving over her naked body as it became wet. Wetter. She touched his chest, ran her hands up his broad shoulders. Kissed him. "John."
He pulled her into his arms. "Fuck," he said quietly. So intimately in her ear she shuddered with the desire flowing between them.
"John? You...colonel? No way! Is that your loofah?" she teased, feeling him stirring along her thigh. She stepped to glance down at him.
He smiled, laughed. "Yeah, baby. I cannot resist you wet. It's one of my top fantasies of you. Here." He guided her out of the shower, pausing only to turn off the water. He kissed her again. "Wrap."
"What? You...oh!" He lifted her suddenly, making her grab onto him. Wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips. "John! We're soaking wet!" she complained.
"I know, and will be much wetter in a sec or two," he teased. He carried her to the bed. Dumped her onto it, causing her to laugh. He grinned, moved over her, trapping her. Kissed her gently, soft kisses but his hands parted her thighs. His mouth moved down to lick the water on her breasts, to suck and tease.
Moira arched, whimpered. She caught his shoulders, feeling his suddenly very erect cock already probing her. Amazed at his stamina, at how eager he was yet again she stammered, "John, John, wait. Wait! I...um..."
He paused, smiled. Slid up to kiss her. "Got it, baby. I know. Slow and sweet. Don't you worry." He entered her gently, groaned. Began a slow, careful rhythm. Thrusting steadily, slowly, but not as deeply or as hard as earlier. Guessing she was tender from the rougher, more energetic sex.
Moira kissed him repeatedly, relaxing into the softer flow of the lovemaking. She circled his ear before he moved to kiss her throat, then her breasts. "Oh John! Oh John,"she purred, rocking with him. Legs widening as the pleasure grew, grew at a comfortable yet still exciting pace. She moaned, squirmed, stroking his arms, his back. "Oh John! John, John..."
"Ssh, not yet, but close, Moira. Hold onto me...ah...right there..." He moved a little faster, a little deeper. Still careful but coming. Groaning softly in approaching relief. "Fuck, fuck."
Moira tensed. Tightened. Arched as he quickened. "Oh John! John, John, John!" she enthused as the orgasm came, came. A delicious spiral that blossomed.
He groaned, coming as well, a pleasant rush and release. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," he breathed. "Moira...my Moira..." He caught her mouth with his. Slid his tongue in and out in perfect time to his cock still gliding along her. She arched, helpless, murmuring. Clinging in ecstasy the pleasure rolled, rolled. She relaxed and he thrust harder. Released and relaxed. Freed her mouth to nibble her earlobe as he slid out of her. "How was that, baby?" He fell upon her, shifted some of his weight off her. Rested.
She sighed happily. "Perfect, John. Oh John...you...you..." she purred, kissing him. Kisses on his face, his brow. Fingers in his hair, down his back as he lazily caressed a breast.
"My Moira...six. Six!" he boasted. "Has any man ever given you six?"
She smiled. "No, John. You're the first. Of course technically it was only four."
"No. Six. Two doubles. An oral. And this." He shifted. "I'm going to crash now. Okay, sweetheart? Don't move," he mumbled, exhausted. Drained. Already drifting to sleep. But he lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Sweetheart, I am sorry. The things I said...I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you, Moira."
She kissed him. Touched his face. His jaw. "Okay, John. I...I can't even remember what you said right now...I...I have to wonder, sweetie, are you trying to fuck me to death? All those orgasms! The things you did to me...with me..."
He smiled. Moved to pull a blanket over them. Settled upon her again. "Fuck us both to oblivion, baby, and back again. Yeah. Moira...my Moira. Give you everything, baby. Nothing. Nothing will take you from me, nothing," he mumbled, falling asleep.
"Nothing will, John," she assured. "I promise. I love you, John. I love you...I will make this right, don't you worry. We'll find a way to–"
"Ssh," he soothed. "Sleep."
"Seriously, John...how did you keep it up for so long?" she asked.
He snorted. "Ssh," he repeated. "Later. Need to sleep. Please."
She shifted under him. "Seriously, my God, sweetie, you kept it so hard for so long I thought you might have needed medical attention! I'm serious, John! Your–"
"Moira!" He smirked. Lifted his head to meet her solemn gaze. He kissed her. "Hush! No more, please! Give me an hour to sleep and recover or I will need medical attention, all right?"
"Okay. Sorry, John."
He frowned. Kissed her again. Settled. "So fucking sweet," he muttered. "Six," he boasted quietly.