How far will it go?
I place my hands around his thighs and pull him tighter as I move to the edge of the seat. He trails a hand down my spine, fingernails sharp but not marking me, yet, I hope. His tongue darts to my neck, and trace a long slow lone to my jaw as I tilt my head back giving him more. Not ready to yield power, I reach one hand up, and do what I’ve wanted to all night… I tangle my hand in his hair, wrapping as much as I can in my fist, and pull his head back firmly. Now it is my turn. He lets me control his head as I lean in and draw my tongue along him. From the base of his neck, in that sweet hollow, up to the curve of his chin. His skin is smooth and tastes of salt and incense. I continue over his chin towards his lips, just flicking my tongue over the lower edge of them before drawing back.
An edge of sanity has returned now that I have that first taste on my tongue.. now I know I will not attack him like a starving tiger. He on the other hands looks down at me with what can only be called hunger. Pulling back a step, he nudges my knees apart and steps forward between them. I keep my feet braced on the legs of the seat, but tighten my legs around his. He places his hands on my shoulders and draws them down my sides. Barely brushing my breasts with his thumbs, he lets his hands trail down to my hips, cupping them as he continues to lick at my neck and jaw. They slide down the snaps in my jeans, and I feel his fingers exploring the exposed flesh. Then up again to the tops of my thighs, where his tightens his grip and holds me firmly. Now he leans towards me again.
This time I am kissed. Hot, hungry, and intense. There is no foreplay for this sort of kiss, it is demanding, taking, tasting and stroking. Oh lord I didn’t even know I COULD be kissed like this. That’s it, to hell with control. My hands move up to the back of his neck and pull him tight while I return his kiss just as hungrily. I wrap one leg around his hips, pulling him in tighter, feeling the heat from both of us. Pressing my chest against his, I kiss him as if it is the end of the world, as if I want to devour, and be devoured in turn. Tasting, sliding, feasting. My world has closed down to this single moment, this tiny place removed from the world around us. His teeth are sharp, and I realize my tongue is sliding between points. Are they real? Are they cosmetic? Do I really give a damn? The answer to that last one is “No”.
I come up for a breath and he looks at me. He quirks an eyebrow questioningly, and bares his teeth, letting me see. They are not set close on the canines as many movies show, but set further back, making them easier to hide I realize. You could talk with these and with a modicum of caution no one would ever know. He looks at me again. I lean forward to kiss him again, slowly this time, cupping his face in my hands, this time running my tongue behind each one, stroking the length. I draw back enough to meet his eyes and see excitement there.
“You’re not afraid” it is a statement rather than a question.
“I’m to busy to be afraid. I’ll let you know tomorrow” I quip.
“They’re real” His voice is like velvet, a dark velvet
“Good”
“Most girls are afraid when they realize I’m not pretending, not a child playing dress-up” Now he is challenging, predatory.
“I have NEVER been like other girls” and it’s true. My parents despaired of my behavior. Boys didn’t know how to handle a girl with more guts then they had. And girls of course detested me for it. But I was proud of the day a soldier from the Gulf War told me “You have a serious set of balls!”. That’s just who I wanted to be. Built like a woman, but as aggressive as any man, never to be anyone’s victim.
“I noticed. I like it” Now there is a hint of smile in his eyes.
“Show me”
An edge of sanity has returned now that I have that first taste on my tongue.. now I know I will not attack him like a starving tiger. He on the other hands looks down at me with what can only be called hunger. Pulling back a step, he nudges my knees apart and steps forward between them. I keep my feet braced on the legs of the seat, but tighten my legs around his. He places his hands on my shoulders and draws them down my sides. Barely brushing my breasts with his thumbs, he lets his hands trail down to my hips, cupping them as he continues to lick at my neck and jaw. They slide down the snaps in my jeans, and I feel his fingers exploring the exposed flesh. Then up again to the tops of my thighs, where his tightens his grip and holds me firmly. Now he leans towards me again.
This time I am kissed. Hot, hungry, and intense. There is no foreplay for this sort of kiss, it is demanding, taking, tasting and stroking. Oh lord I didn’t even know I COULD be kissed like this. That’s it, to hell with control. My hands move up to the back of his neck and pull him tight while I return his kiss just as hungrily. I wrap one leg around his hips, pulling him in tighter, feeling the heat from both of us. Pressing my chest against his, I kiss him as if it is the end of the world, as if I want to devour, and be devoured in turn. Tasting, sliding, feasting. My world has closed down to this single moment, this tiny place removed from the world around us. His teeth are sharp, and I realize my tongue is sliding between points. Are they real? Are they cosmetic? Do I really give a damn? The answer to that last one is “No”.
I come up for a breath and he looks at me. He quirks an eyebrow questioningly, and bares his teeth, letting me see. They are not set close on the canines as many movies show, but set further back, making them easier to hide I realize. You could talk with these and with a modicum of caution no one would ever know. He looks at me again. I lean forward to kiss him again, slowly this time, cupping his face in my hands, this time running my tongue behind each one, stroking the length. I draw back enough to meet his eyes and see excitement there.
“You’re not afraid” it is a statement rather than a question.
“I’m to busy to be afraid. I’ll let you know tomorrow” I quip.
“They’re real” His voice is like velvet, a dark velvet
“Good”
“Most girls are afraid when they realize I’m not pretending, not a child playing dress-up” Now he is challenging, predatory.
“I have NEVER been like other girls” and it’s true. My parents despaired of my behavior. Boys didn’t know how to handle a girl with more guts then they had. And girls of course detested me for it. But I was proud of the day a soldier from the Gulf War told me “You have a serious set of balls!”. That’s just who I wanted to be. Built like a woman, but as aggressive as any man, never to be anyone’s victim.
“I noticed. I like it” Now there is a hint of smile in his eyes.
“Show me”