I’ve been with you a little over a day. It’s longer than I’ve ever been with any woman, ever. I’m 26. Spent half of that in prison, or on the run. Not much time for this sort of thing. There’s always whorehouses, but that’s hardly the same thing, is it. I never cared much before, once the need was gone, and now, for the life of me, all I want to do is make you happy.
Your nerves are still jangled, though you hide it well. I hate myself for feeling I have any measure of control over you, even for a short time, but I can’t help a lifetime of looking for an edge.
I try to cool down, I don’t want to rush. I kiss your throat, unbutton your blouse. Your hands move to my chest. If you touch me, I’ll never be able to hold it together. Hold your wrists, as I lay you back. You could stop me, make me let you go, if you wanted to, but you don’t.
I lay beside you, unhook your bra at the front. I’m far more gentle this time, I swore I wouldn’t hurt you again, and I meant it.
Your soft skin erupts in gooseflesh, as I kiss your breasts. Slide my hand over your thigh, cup your mound, gentle pressure. I push back, as your hips arch under my hand, a small circle over your clitoris.
Your skirt slides over your hips, your panties stick, wet. I slide down between your knees to free them, kiss the hollow of your hips.
The scent of musk is deeper as I kiss between your thighs. You open like a pink flower, your clitoris stiffens under my tongue. Rest my head on your thigh to try to settle myself, I can’t play with you much longer.
I undress quickly ,keeping a hand on your thigh, so you won’t move to help me. If you touch me, I’ll never last.
I wait over you, close enough to just touch, holding your wrists, until you arch up, and take me in. I fight the urge to be rough with you, let you set the pace.
Your breath quickens, your eyes close, I kiss the arch in your neck, your moan is driving me crazy.
I make lists in my head, places I’ve been, people I’ve known, anything I can think of, to try to keep calm, I need this to last.
Lift up just enough to slide my thumb over your clitoris, just enough pressure to make you gasp. Every stroke now, even more intense. Your back arches up to me. You’re so close. Your moans have turned into animal cries, and I have to fight harder not to let go, not yet.
You’re getting hard to hold, as your body slicks in sweat, a line of heat from your throat to your belly.
Your cries, more insistent, turn to screams, you turn your head to bite the pillow.
It’s more than I can bear, and I pull the pillow away.
“scream for me”
My belly and thighs are soaked, as you let go, a wild animal, underneath me. A deep flutter, as you contract with the force of your orgasm, and I let go, finally, almost blacking out.
You continue to tremble, as I sit up, holding you in my arms.
It was a mistake to plan for a longer route, I’ll never survive it. I’ve never felt like this for anyone before.I don’t want to think what that means, don’t want to admit it to myself. I don’t want to think anymore.