You really want to hear? Don’t get me started!

Checking my mail box tells me I seem to have left one or two of my readers a bit disappointed regarding a recent post:

You can NOT just leave us hanging like that!
— C. G.

Details! Details!
— M. P.

Oh gosh, OK. I hate leaving anyone unsatisfied. If you insist on hearing the boring details [smiles coyly]:

He carried me to the bed, kicking my shoes out of his way, which I had left in the middle of the floor. For some reason I couldn’t stop giggling.

Setting me down on the bed, he removed his shirt and paused, I think, for effect. I looked up at him, slipping my pajamas off and smiling. Naked, I turned over, got on my knees, lowered my face to the pillow, and presented him with my bottom.

He ran his hands over it, delicately at first, then firmly, squeezing and holding my cheeks in his hands. I parted my legs slightly.

“Are you going to spank me?” I asked, whispering.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he replied, gently. “I really am not the sort who spanks, you see.”

I don’t really know why but I was both disappointed and relieved at the same time.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked him.

“I am also not the sort who talks so much,” he said, and then he lay down behind me on his stomach, parted my bottom and started to lick me in long, slow, sensuous licks, starting from my clitoris and going up through my slit and across my anus. It was delicious. I closed my eyes and held on to the pillow.

His tongue pointed and screwed itself against my clitoris, drilling into it and running along its swollen length. I moaned. His hands held my bottom up and his mouth opened wide, his tongue running up to my slit, parting it and sliding into me. I bit my pillow. His tongue was thick and very warm, and so soft yet so insistent. It parted my folds and slid into me, slowly, finding ridges and folds that I didn’t know that I had. I let out a long, slow breath of air. Once I was totally and completely relaxed he traced one finger along my slit and then pushed it in my pussy, and I could hear it; it was wet, slishing and sloshing back and forth. He withdrew it and tasted it, and then slid two fingers into me and started kissing my anus.

I turned beet red and wanted to scream. It was so embarrassing to be kissed there, but it felt so good I couldn’t stop him. I hid my face in the pillow and surrendered to his lips. Those lips… they sucked it, pulled it, then opened it and his tongue entered it, hotly. It was soft, yet firm and a wave of pleasure consumed me until my body was enflamed and my legs started to tremble. I made a small crying noise and he stopped.

“I am hurting you?” he asked softly.

“NO!!” I screamed, then more gently I continued, “I mean… no, I’m fine, it’s fine; it’s just that… are you sure you want to do this? You don’t mind?”

I could hear him smiling as he replied, “My dear lady, I don’t do anything I don’t want. Not here. Not with you.”

“Well, OK then,” I said, “if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Has no one done this to you before?” he asked, tracing the ring of my anus with his finger.

“Well,” I admitted, “yes, but … well, he wasn’t as slow and sure of himself as you are. I think he was in a rush to get inside me.”

“Inside your bottom?” he asked.

“Yes, I let him … I let him do that. He enjoyed it; I guess I let him do it.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asked.

“Yes.” I lifted my bottom higher and opened my legs more. “As long as you don’t think … that I’m a slut or something.”

“Hardly,” he said. His finger entered my bottom again and I groaned softly.

“Monsieur,” I said, turning around, “I need … I need very badly to suck you while you do that.” I helped him remove his pants.

He was quite erect, and I held it happily in my greedy hand as my mouth lowered over it. I sucked it happily, and he turned me onto my side so he could continue with his mouth on me.

When his mouth found my anus again, the palm of his hand pressed on to my vulva, spreading it and mashing it. His fingers stroked my clitoris as his palm spread my slit wider. I moaned around his cock, licking it, sucking it, loving it as much as I could. His tongue buried into my ass, driving me wild, and it all became a blur of pleasure – tongue, fingers, and cock. It was delicious.

Then he backed off, and began to gently strum my clitoris very slowly, running his thumb up, then down its length. I felt my vulva, beating with my heart, and I became intensely aware of how engorged my clitoris was. His attention to my bottom had ceased, and I could feel the cool air against my wetness as he flicked his thumb up … down … up … down, and my hips were moving to try to increase the pressure against his hand. But he held me off.

I had pulled my mouth off his cock by then, and was holding it in my fist tightly as I gasped. “More,” I begged, “please.”

“More what?” he asked, teasing me.

“Unghh…” I opened my legs wider and tried desperately to get more of his fingers, but he was holding them tantalizingly away so that they only brushed against my sex very slightly.

“More what, love?” he insisted.

I grabbed his hand with both of mine and was prepared to shove the whole thing inside me at that point, but he took hold of my wrists and pinned them up over my head, pushing me to my back; then Monsieur began kissing me. I responded hungrily. His tongue brushed my lips then plunged into my mouth, teasing my tongue, dancing with it, but then he pulled away and circled my breast with sugar kisses, still holding me by my wrists. It was pure torture, and I arched my back and humped against him wantonly.

“Please,” I begged again.

“What do you want?” Monsieur asked, letting go of my wrists. I reached for his cock but he took one nipple in his fingers and pulled it, gently at first, then insistently. This single contact between our bodies seemed electric, and I felt a charge go through my body as my nipple became engorged with blood.

“Aagh!” I cried, gutturally, gripping the sheets in both hands and twisting them up, almost ripping them from the bed. I felt lewd, shameless, my legs open and the wetness from my slit coating my thighs and pooling on the linens.

He held the nipple like a firm clamp, not actually hurting it – but not treating it like fine porcelain either. “What do you want?”

“I want you!” I cried. “I want you to take me, to take me now! Please, Monsieur,” I begged again, “you’ve got to fuck my pussy!”

“Lustful girl,” he smiled. He held his body over me, covering me with his body. He took my wrists in his hands again, pinning me down. This prevented me from reaching between us and shoving his thick, wonderful cock into me like I desperately needed. His chest hairs gently teased my breasts and my head was spinning. He undulated over me, his body moving in slow rhythm and I moved with him. I tried to position my body so that he would slip into me, but he held his hips away. His cock was teasing the lips of my pussy, or it was sliding up, slishing down, and glissading my slit. When his glans came in contact with my clitoris, I was almost in tears.

“I’m yours!” I said hoarsely.

“Are you, indeed?” he said, half to himself, then he held his cock in one hand, and moved his hips just so, spreading me, entering me, slipping his way past my pulsing labia and tunneling into me. My hands stopping gripping the sheets and my arms went around his ass, pulling him in. It was filling me, and my eyes closed tightly while I bit my lower lip.

He paused to ask, “I am not hurting you?” and I shook my head, made a few incoherently formed syllables, then pulled him into me in One. Smooth. Stroke.

Tears were streaming down my face as I came. I bit my lips to avoid crying out but it was no use. A long, low moan escaped my mouth through my clenched teeth. My head was spinning and my body moved with him almost involuntarily. My hands squeezed his ass and pulled him closer to me, and I writhed against his body to increase the contact of my clit on his shaft.

“Forgive me; I cannot last,” he whispered to me, and I nodded assent and held him close. I felt him swell up, his back arched, and he closed his eyes and filled me with his soothing seed. I trembled and he shuddered. I gasped and cried out his name, waves of pleasure rippling through my body.

He lay on me, resting his weight on his elbows like a gentleman should, and I held his head against my chest.

“Do you feel better?” I asked him.

“I feel wonderful,” he said, and when he looked up at me I could see tears on his face as well.

“Are you all right?” I asked, looking at him closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Release,” he said in a whisper. “Emotion. I am fine.”

“Can we do this more often?” I asked him as gently as I could.

“[Yearning Heart],” he sighed, “I promise you – I do what I can. Besides,” he added, “isn’t it the sweeter in its rarity?”

I wiped his tears away, kissing him. He wiped mine away as well. I held him against me and we murmured to each other, reassuring each other until there were no more words.