It Wasn’t You

I shut my eyes.  Tight.  It wasn’t you.

As his hand glid over my  breast, and he moaned, it wasn’t you.

His hand slid over my belly, dipped down into my valley, my eyes just got tighter and I turned my head, willing his eager face out of my mind.

He moved on top and his head buried deep in my neck, his mouth breathing hot air, his tongue darting in and out and I groaned.  Where are you?

Why aren’t you here?  Why aren’t you him?  Why isn’t he you?

He entered me and my body gave in to the pleasure, gave in to my weakness and I begged my body to respond quick, begged my body to hurry up and get mine.

And within minutes, as he moved against me, grinding on me, filling me completely, my body released, pushing against him for that extra inch that would give me that extra mile.

And still my eyes remained closed.  Wide shut.  Your pretty face in my head, looking deep into my eyes, that smile spreading on your face, asking for my want, asking for my need, asking for me to give myself, your voice in my ear, your scent on my pillow, your touch on my skin.

But you weren’t here.  

Because it wasn’t you.

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Lazy Love, Part II

*read part one here*

I make room for him on the chair that’s meant for one and he’s sitting entirely too close and I tell him he should be comfortable because it’s his house so he stretches a leg over me.  Again, this comfort.

We toast from our mismatched wine glasses and we sip and it’s clearly evident how magnetic this attraction is.  He asks me questions and watches my mouth as I answer him and he looks into my eyes and I’m distracted.

He suddenly places his finger in the middle of my spine and starts trailing it up and down, making me sit upright.  My head instinctively falls back and my eyes close, an open invitation for more.

He pulls me back towards him and places his finger on my chin.  He raises my head to his mouth and kisses me, softly but urgently.  I feel his need for me.

I stand up and hold my hand out to him.  In an instant he’s by my side, guiding me towards his bed.  He pulls my sweater over my head and my hands are on his chest, taking in every last muscle, my fingers not able to get enough of this man.  I want him underneath me.

He lays me down gently and turns me over on my belly.  His fingers grasp my waistband and my undies are slid over my behind, my legs.  He lays directly on me, feeling, wanting, needing.  His arousal is evident and I moan loud enough to let him know I’m ready.

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He pulls me up and kisses me, his lips and tongue lingering over my back, the curve of my behind, in between my legs and I’m anxious now, wanting this desire to be filled, completed.

“This is mine,” he whispers, barely audible.  “I’m going to make you mine.”

In one thrust, he’s inside, sending me over every edge, my body pulsing with every last touch of his.   His movements are calculated, rhythmic, smooth and experienced.  He’s aiming for my pleasure, my need, my want.

I push up against him, aching to reach mine but he’s a slow lovemaker, lazy almost, making sure I feel every last inch of him and I want to speed him up, I’m close, so close but he’s taking his time and I’m grabbing the bedsheets and holding onto his back and gripping his shoulders and yet he continues his slow and loving motion.

I give in to all the feelings and he senses this and starts moving faster.  He looks down into my eyes and smiles and briefly he stops, tenses up and I’m going against him, pushing and pulling and wanting all he’s got to give and together, in seconds, we call out and we’re done; hearts pounding, sweat beading, bodies sticking, spent and content.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lazy Love

Oh, you got that, I don’t wanna,

That I don’t wanna go nowhere, lazy love,

You got that, I don’t wanna,

That I don’t wanna do nothing, that lazy love. ~ NeYo, “Lazy Love.”

He greets me at the door wearing sweat pants and a wife beater.  He has no idea what one of those items does for my thirst, imagine the deadly combo…

He’s barefoot and comfortable and immediately this makes me smile.  He lets me in and half hugs me but I fold into him and he hugs me again, fully, hands tightly around my back like this happens every day…

I can’t stop looking at his arms.  He has no idea how many times his arms have been in my thoughts, how many times those arms kept my legs up in the air, how many times those arms were above my head, how many times I bit into his flesh…

His pants are too big and they slide ever so discreetly over the vee of his torso and goddamn, I think, why doesn’t he tighten that string that’s made specifically for that reason and then I think, maybe he did that on purpose because he wants to tease me and get me on my knees…

His back is strong and sculpted and again, he has no idea about how I feel about strong backs or else he wouldn’t make me follow him but I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he struggles to open up a bottle of wine and it’s clear he doesn’t have to do that often and again, I smile, because he’s doing this solely for me and I think too much and I like to make up stories in my mind and this particular story in my mind in his kitchen is endearing…

It’s not small talk.  It’s like he knows I hate small talk because our conversation flows and our words mingle and already he’s finishing my sentences and I just want to kiss him as I watch his mouth move and his lips, Jesus, his lips…

And I say something that makes him smile and his eyes crinkle in the corner and motherfuck, why do I want to lick his crinkle, why are his eyes so sexy…

He leads me upstairs and I could tell he cleaned up for me, a girl knows when a man gets ready for her and he did, he got ready for me and again, another thought pops into my head and I’m saying this is all too good to be true…

I want nothing more than to lay him down on his neatly made bed, nothing more than to pull those sweat pants down over that vee and have that back under my fingertips and have those arms in between my teeth.  But I don’t.

I sit on the chair in the corner…

Just Come Over

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I just want to talk.

I promise not to touch you.  Better yet, I won’t even look at you.

I don’t want to risk looking up into those eyes and being reminded….

So I’ll keep my head down, my eyes low and I’ll just listen; I’ll listen to your laugh when you realize how ridiculous I’m being and I’ll listen to your sighs and your deep breathing.  But I promise I won’t get close enough to hear your breathing.  I won’t even try to inhale your scent.

I just want you near.  I just want you close; close enough to touch, but I won’t touch, I promise I won’t touch but I want you close enough to feel the sensation of this vibe we have, this thing we share.  It’s here.  It’s still here.  I know you know it.  I know you feel it.  I know you feel me.  You.  Feel.  This.

That’s why you need to just come over.  Just come with me.  I promise I won’t touch you.  I’m aching though, physically aching.  When my mind wanders and I remember…..it’s this feeling that needs fulfillment.  You know the feeling….

But I’ll behave.

I’ll keep my hands to myself and I’ll sit away from you but I want you nearby I want you close I want you here so I can see you I just want to see you I just want to hear you please baby I just have to have you here with me but I won’t look I won’t touch I won’t want I won’t I won’t I promise but my heart baby my heart just aches and it’s a horrible feeling and it’s just hurting physically hurting and I just want to be filled with you I want all of you on all of me and I want your scent and your touch and your sweat remember when you sweat baby and you were anxious so anxious and I just wanted to please you I just wanted all your pleasure and I let you have it I let you take it I gave you all of me I gave you all of me for one night baby and I’d give everything to have you push up inside me all the way until my back arches that way and I’m pushed all the way back taking all you have for me baby and hearing you tell me you’re going to come you’re going to come you’re going to….

Just come over.

I just want to talk.

Then & Now

“I feel like I belong here, with you. I don’t want to leave.”

His smile spoke a hundred words. His eyes a hundred more.

“I can’t stop staring at you. I love your face.”

His hand around my neck, ready to embrace. My heart skipped.

“Your lips are so soft.”

My mind reeled. He wasn’t him. This wasn’t him. He couldn’t be. I couldn’t be.

“And you smell good. God you smell so good.”

Chance encounters, real connections, love affairs waiting to happen.

“I want you, I want all of you, I want to devour every part of your body.”

Smiles, kisses, glances, touches, past and present, past lingering more than the present, love and lust, infatuation and crushes.

“You even taste good.”

Groans and moans and scratches and feelings. Hard and soft and wet and convulsing.

“I don’t want to leave.”

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The Pleasure Principle – Chapter 2 – Damian

We walked into the mansion and my eyes widened at the sight. The house looked like it belonged on an exotic island.

The bank president’s home was situated on a hill, just outside the city, overlooking a small, man-made lake that connected to the outdoor pool. Guests were already gathering around the bar outside on the patio.

I stood back and admired the decor.

Red velvet curtains. Dark brown walls. There were erotic paintings hanging from the walls, what looked like figures in different sexual positions. It was very Kama Sutra. I shot Michael a look. He was in awe just as much as I was.

Michael came to my side. “Wine?”, he asked. I smiled, admiring the smug look on his face, his satisfaction in knowing my drink preference.

I watched him make his way to the bar on the patio, loving the way the linen pants fell from his hips. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and imagined his hips on top…

“You like the artwork?” A man’s deep voice behind me. I started to turn around to look and then, “Don’t turn around. Let’s observe this together.”

His voice was deep, deeper than Michael’s. I didn’t think that was even possible. My heart skipped a beat in anticipation to hear what he’d say next…

“You notice the figures in this artwork? Can you see the position the female is in?”

I swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on the female figure in the painting. This man’s voice felt like warm, melted chocolate on my body.

“You can tell the female is in lust with her lover. You see how her lips are parted? She needs to be pleased. She wants to take him in her mouth. See that?”

I shifted my stance, not feeling uneasy with this man’s words. The fact that he didn’t make me uneasy is what made me uneasy. Dammit. Where was Michael??

He took a step forward, making my heart beat even faster. I didn’t move.

I could feel the heat exuding from his body, the scent of him wafting through the air. I stared straight ahead at the painting in front of me, forgetting what I was looking at.

“You’re so sexy Savannah”, he whispered in my ear. I straightened my back. How did he know my name? I tried to turn around to see who this mystery man was when suddenly I felt his tight grip on my elbows, preventing me from moving any further.

I got the sudden urge to fall back into his arms, to press my back onto his chest. This was so inappropriate. Why was I even pondering this with this mystery man who smelled like heaven and sounded like ecstasy? I didn’t even know what he looked like!

“I’ve heard so much about you”, he continued. “He speaks very highly of you. And speaking of which, there he is now.” He dropped his hands and my body felt…bare almost. Fuck.

“Ahh, Michael, I was wondering why you left this sexy woman here all by herself. I wouldn’t trust her alone, you know,” and then he laughed, a sexy, rough, hearty laughter.

I stepped away from the mystery man, reaching out to Michael. I turned around, anticipation knotted in my stomach waiting to see what this man looked like.

My knees went instantly weak. My palms got sweaty. And my heart was thudding out of control. Dear God.

I held onto Michael’s hand for stability.

“I see you’ve met Mr. Williams,” Michael said to me.

I turned to Michael. Then to the mystery man.

“You’re Michael’s boss?”, I stammered.

Mr. Williams held out his hand and took mine into his. He lifted it up to his lips and kissed my hand ever so seductively, his lips lingering a second longer than they should have. I could have sworn something stirred inside me…

Mr. Williams had dark, shining, mesmerizing eyes. He seemed to know what I was thinking. This was NOT what I expected the bank manager to look like…

“I’m not Michael’s boss today. Please,” he said, “call me Damian,” and he smiled.

I turned to Michael again, secretly cursing Damian’s smile and his perfect set of white teeth. I took the glass of wine from Michael’s hand and tried not to gulp it.

Michael was tall but Damian was taller. Michael’s skin was hot chocolate. Damian’s was dark chocolate. Michael had eyes I could stare into all night. Damian’s eyes shone like a star in the night.

I blinked hard and cursed myself for comparing my lover to this mystery man. What a man he was…

“I was showing Savannah my collection of erotic art,” explained Damian with an air of smug confidence, as if he knew, yet again, what I was thinking, “And I was just about to show her the pieces around my home. Do you mind if I borrow her Michael?” My body jerked slightly when he said “borrow”.

I quickly prayed that Michael wouldn’t mind. Something about this man made me want to hear him talk. Damian could talk to me all night. Dammit. Michael.

Michael bent down and kissed my mouth. “Go ahead,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and glancing at his boss. “And you,” he directed this to me, “behave.” I saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

I stood there speechless, my heart feeling warm from Michael’s presence and my body tingling from standing in between these two creatures. A wicked thought snuck into my head and I quickly pushed it back into the corners of my mind.

Damian didn’t waste one minute. He took my hand and led me across the living area. I turned back to see Michael watching me, a smile on his lips.

I followed Damian slowly around his home, hearing but not listening to the facts on his erotic art paintings. I couldn’t help but watch him.

Damian had long. slender fingers, the kind of hand that would cup my breast perfectly. His lips were just right, enough to cover mine with sweet kisses. I looked at his legs. They were clad in flawlessly pressed dress slacks. A designer belt held his pants pleasantly in place. He was wearing a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying the perfect amount of soft hair on his forearms.

And his arms. His muscular arms were noticeable under his shirt, aching for my fingertips to caress them.

“You’re having a hard time concentrating, aren’t you?” he asked, obviously amused at my reaction. I almost melted when I realized how sexy his dimples were.

I looked up and stared intently into his eyes, making sure he could read the seriousness in my eyes. “What makes you think so Mister, um, Damian?” For some odd reason, I wanted to continue calling him Mr. Williams. There was an air of authority about him.

“For starters, your nipples are hard,” he said, reaching out to touch my breasts lightly with the back of his hand. I didn’t flinch. Damian looked down at me, no reaction on his pretty face.

“And secondly, I know for a fact you’re moist underneath this dress,” he almost whispered, dropping his hand from my breast. I almost groaned out loud thinking he would feel under my dress but he wouldn’t dare, would he?

I smiled and stood my ground. Damian didn’t touch me and I hated myself again for wanting him to.

What was wrong with me? My lover was more than enough for me. Why was I allowing these lustful feelings to overcome my awareness of what was really happening. This was my lover’s boss! Nothing about this situation was right!

“Are we done here?”, I tilted my head for emphasis, “because Michael might be getting lonely for me,” I said.

“Michael has told me about your freaky ways Savannah. The thoughts alone are enough to keep him company,” he replied.

“How do you know I’m not lonely for him?”, I challenged, wondering how much Michael told his boss about me.

Damian moved in closer, making me almost unable to look up at him any further.

“You?”, he laughed. “Oh, Savannah. You don’t get lonely.”

Damian reached down and picked a strand of hair from in front of my face. He held it in between his fingers, looking intently into my eyes.

“Can I share a secret with you?”, he asked.

I was intoxicated by this man. By his scent, his movements, his voice, his presence. This is wrong, I told myself. But my body didn’t seem to agree. My body was telling me this was so right.

Damian grabbed my hand and pulled me with him around the corner of the living room into another room, what looked like a walk-in closet. I consciously wanted to pull my hand away from him and run to Michael but physically, I wasn’t able to.

“I want you. From the moment I stepped into the room and saw you in this red dress, standing seductively looking at my artwork, I wanted you. I’ve known for a while about yours and Michael’s sexual adventures and I‘m jealous. I want what Michael has.” He paused, just enough to stroke my face lightly. “Give me a taste. Give me a taste of what you’re about Savannah.”

I was engulfed by emotions. My Michael. I couldn’t do this. I loved Michael. I had never ending love for him. Michael pleased me in every which way possible. Michael was the perfect lover.

Why then, why then, dammit, was I feeling this way about a man I had never met before in my life? Damian was the epitome of sexy. His demeanor. His voice. His overbearing attitude. His over-the-top self-confidence. His eyes. His hands. Something about him made me want to bring him to his knees! I wanted to shut him up, I wanted to make him groan, I wanted to hear him call my name in mercy. How dare he talk to me this way? He was Michael’s boss, not mine!

I put my hands on his arms, confirming my thoughts about his muscles from earlier and pushed him back against the wall with all my might. I ran my hands up to his shoulders and then to his face. I cupped his face in my hands and pulled his face down to mine. I made sure he saw the hunger in my eyes before I pulled his mouth down onto mine. I sucked on his lips, kissing and biting his tongue. I moved deep into his mouth and sucked on his tongue hungrily. Oh God. He was kissing me perfectly, his mouth in sync with mine. My mind was whirling with thoughts and emotions and I realized how badly I wanted to wrap my legs around him.

Damian seemed to know, yet again, what I was thinking and with one swift movement, he grabbed my ass and lifted me up onto him. I put my hands around his shoulders and threw my legs around him, feeling his hardness under the silky material of my dress. Damian slid one hand under my dress and groaned sexily out loud when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Holy shit,” he moaned into me, his face in my hair, inhaling my neck. I threw my head back, urging him to kiss me there and he did. His mouth sucked on my neck, his tongue flicking in and out lightly.

I wasn’t feeling any guilt at having another man’s hands on my ass, pushing my dress higher and further away, trying to get to my treasure. I was wet. I could feel the wetness in between my legs and I wanted Damian to feel it too.

“Damian,” I muttered. “Damian, please.”

“This feels so right Savannah. You feel so right. I want you. I want all of you. Let me have all of you,” he whispered into my ear.

Damian brought me down to the carpeted floor and quickly unzipped his pants. I moved my hands quickly, trying to free him from his pants as fast as I could. I wanted him in my mouth. I wanted to have him in my mouth. I wanted to make him scream my name. I got up on my knees and then…

“No,” said Damian suddenly. “I want you my way,” he said, and dropped down to his knees. He placed me gently on my back and lifted my legs. My dress was scrunched up around my waist, my pussy anticipating his every move, getting wetter by the second.

Damian looked at me again, this time expressing his hunger. He delved swiftly into my pussy with his mouth, his tongue lapping at every bit of wetness in between my legs. “Mmm,” he moaned, “you taste so good.”  I moaned with him, trying unsuccessfully to be quiet. I grabbed the back of his head and brought him in deeper. Dear. God. I brought my hips up higher, wanting desperately and anxiously to feel the thrusting inside my core. I grabbed his head again and this time brought it up to my face, kissing and licking his mouth, moaning again at the taste of me on him.

I was out of breath. “I want you,” I panted. “I want you so bad Damian.” I wanted him everywhere. I greedily and selfishly wanted my pleasure. And I wanted it everywhere. I wanted his mouth on my pussy and I wanted his dick in my pussy. I wanted his dick in my mouth, I wanted to please him. I don’t know which urge was stronger.

Damian pulled his pants down lower, giving himself freedom to move. I smiled when I saw his cock, my pussy now throbbing uncontrollably to have him inside me. Damian was well endowed and I wanted every inch of him inside me.

Damian positioned himself above me, teasing me lightly with the tip.  I thrust my hips up to meet his pleasure and he moved away.

“Damian, please, we don’t have much time. Please, just fuck me.”

Damian entered me and thrust himself up inside. “Oh my,” he whispered. “Savannah.”

I closed my eyes, tears uncontrollably welling up from the sudden pain. Oh God, he felt so good…

“Move with me,” I said, adjusting my legs to meet his thrusts, enjoying the slam of his body against mine. I felt the beginning of my orgasm deep inside, wanting so much to have his dick inside my mouth.

“Damian,” I stammered, almost ready to come, “Dame…” I stopped suddenly. A movement from the door caught my eye…

I froze.

Damian froze. Slowly he turned around.

And there, at the doorway, stood Michael.

*See Michael’s reaction here*