No Words 13

“Go down on me?”

Wordlessly he complied, moving between her legs to kiss and tongue and stroke his way toward her vulva. He approached gradually. Softly. Silently. When at last he arrived, he just brushed his mouth against her labia.  Then he brushed his tongue. All the while, his fingertips stroked the sensitive insides of her thighs.

“I should warn you, I’m one of those clit-diddle types, I like it nice and – oh my yes.” A quick study, her Mick. His lips were soft and indirect and slow, his tongue moving with the lightest of touches over her labia. She tangled her fingers into his hair and moaned, “Oh yes. Oh it took Charles ages to learn -”

Mick removed his mouth abruptly. “If you talk about Charles again while I’m doing this I’m gonna… I don’t know, but something.”

Fran laughed. “Okay, okay, anything, just don’t stop. More.”

He obliged, his attention focused, using breath and lips and tongue. He moved one hand steadily up and down the inside of her thigh, while the other pressed lightly on her mons, tugging upward just a little to expose her clit. The blend of sensations consumed her attention, filled her awareness.  With astonishing speed, her arousal accelerated and crescendoed, and she found herself at the brink.

When he stopped again.

“You want to come or you want to wait?”

“Are you kidding? I want to come, please don’t stop, oh god fuck please I want to come!”

He disappeared between her legs with a grin, and Fran felt his tongue move unerringly to her most sensitive places. He seemed to read her mind – or read her pussy – tuned in and adapting to each change in tension and desire.

She came hard, clutching her hands into Mick’s hair and grunting raucidly with each overwhelming contraction of her pelvic muscles, until she burst out laughing, when her hands softened and she stroked his head affectionately.

“Oh man,” she said. “Man oh man.” She giggled, and Mick moved himself up from between her legs. He kissed her full and wet, tasting of her own pussy. “Oh yummy,” she murmured into the kiss.

“That what you were looking for?”

“’Mazing. Thank you.”

“Happy to oblige.

She rested, floating, in his arms for a long while, until he kissed her forehead, disentangled himself from her, and rose from the bed.

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said.

Fran’s eyes flew open “What? Where are you going?”

He looked at her bemused, his shirt half on. “Uh, home?”

“You don’t want to do more? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought you were going to fuck me.” Landmine. Shit. Hell.

“I want to. You want me to?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Oh. Okay.” He stripped fast, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.

“Condoms in the bedside table drawer,” Fran said, watching him, half amused, half aroused. She arranged herself on the bed, her head on her pillow.

He quickly rolled on a condom and Fran said, “Wait, hang on,” and retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table. She handed it to him with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Oh hell yes.”

He squeezed a load of lube into his hand and massaged it over the condom.

“Like that?”

“Dude, have you never used lube before?”

“No, it’s…” He was kneeling on the bed, the body of a mythological creature, but with his hands in the air. They both looked at his penis. “It’s sticky.”

Fran laughed at him and said, “Just come here, genius. You’ll see.” She lifted her feet off the mattress and let her knees drop outward, open. He stared at her, first at her pussy, then at her face,

“Okay.” He lay over her and adjusted his at her entrance. “Ready?”

“Ready. You’re such a romancer.” She grinned. It was less awkward than she feared, having his long, lean body – so familiar, still somehow so new – pressing along her round, soft body. Her breasts loved the feel of his chest against them. She glanced at his face, distracted by the task of aligning himself.

And then he entered her.

Fran’s brain went mushy. Her eyes closed. And she didn’t think anything anymore.

He just started fucking her. There was no hesitation, no build up, just slow, steady rhythm, his full length moving into her and out again, into her and out again. Slow. But steady.

With a quiet “God,” she put her hands on his ass to feel his muscles moving under his skin. Her palms traveled over his hips, his back, his thighs, his shoulders, arms, touched him everywhere as he fucked her, simply.

When his lips found hers, she twined her fingers in his hair and kissed him hungrily. Still he maintained his steady, deliberate rhythm. She rocked her hips against him, coaxing him to go faster, but he kept his pace, his full length moving into her and out again, into her and out again. The movement of her hips only sensitized her own body, building the urgency inside her. All she could think was that she wanted him to slam into her body, hard and fast, and the more she wanted that, the more agonized she was by his even, purposeful strokes. So she rocked more, gripping her hands in his hair, pinning her nails into his shoulder, pulling with the flats of her fingertips at his ass. And still he moved his whole length into her, and out again, into her and out again. His lips were on her neck now, on her shoulder.

She grunted, wordless, and spread her legs wider, raising her feet in the air above them to make her clit as available to his thrusts as possible. The angle deepened his penetration, the head of his cock reaching her hiddenest depths. His only change was a little noise and the shift of his lips to her earlobe.

In desperation, she reached to the full extent of her arms to grip his thighs just under his ass, to push him into her, push him. He would not be hastened, but he was trembling now with the effort of maintaining his steady, steadfast rhythm, and his breath near her ear was labored.

Groaning once more, she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, gripped him to her with all her considerable strength, and he whispered, “Jesus.” Still he fucked her, moving his whole length into her and out again.

She neared climax, her hands fisting against the small of his back and her breath coming in short, noisy pants. She made half-articulate noises – “Ye – Mi – Fu – Go -” and scraped her nails down his back. She pressed her hips against his with jabbing thrusts, as he steadily fucked her.

Then he stopped.

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