Project Erotic

– naughty musings –

Archive for the tag “mouth”

Burning up

She lay on the couch as he entered the room, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the soft breeze from the window that cooled her. Her dress beckoning to be unbuttoned, her breasts feeling the restriction of the fabric that clung and partially covered them.

As he approached she felt her pulse pick up pace and an involuntary subtle smile take hold. His mouth close to her ear and his softly spoken, suggestively teasing, words increasing her desire for his touch. His passion. His heat to match, and ultimately quell, hers.

His fingers traced over her lips, her body on fire, she tasted him. Absorbed in the pleasure of pure sensory stimulation her eyes remained closed – an invisible blindfold.

She trusted him implicitly. She wanted him, and here he was, at her place, ready to indulge her desire for him, and his for her.

His fingers moved slowly from her mouth and over her breasts as his mouth lowered to her inviting nipple. He teased her relentlessly with his words and touch. She loved to be on this wave with him, urgency for wild abandon – prolonged, all the while her breath shallow, fast and telling of her delight.

One button at a time he released her curves from the blue summer dress she wore. She felt liberated, exposed and never more desirous of the heat of his body to be on hers. His scent on her.

She bathed in his words and the guttural sounds that filled the room as he expressed the fire that surged within him. And then… his mouth was on her. Her body jolted as unexpected as his tongue was. She moaned as he teased and pleasured her. He, consumed and intoxicated by her, feverishly sank his tongue deeper. Her body writhing, her breasts rising, her entire body undulating. He feasted as her legs wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to her; one hand reaching out to touch him, to feel his skin under hers, the other, clawed at the sofa as the heat overtook her. Beads of sweat trickled from them both. The dress she lay on top of was wet with her desire. The air was thick with the heady scent of lust…

He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.
– Anais Nin

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