Sunday, 11 December 2011

Origins

Her fingers danced over her stomach, her pubic bone, and around the gentle curve of her hips. The tips  of her fingers were very slightly soft, but she still moaned as they rubbed her clitoral hood, stimulating her for just a second, before her fingers were at her vulva.



Her lips were very slightly swollen, and moist with her own flavours; that moistness dripped down her hips, over the shimmering ball of her fourchette piercing, on a journey to her asshole, or to the white bedsheets beneath.

Throwing her head back, she moaned softly. Her fingers dipped into her chalice and within moments they were slick and slippery. She added a second finger, and moaned louder. Everything was so intense after the wine, every touch setting her nerves aflame and pushing her to new heights of pleasure.

The first hand withdrew. She whimpered, looking down, and blushed as she saw a thin ribbon of clear and sticky liquid hanging delicately between her index and middle finger. She wanted to lick it, to suck her fingers clean, to taste her own manifest arousal. But she didn't.

Instead, she rolled sideways, laying on one arm. Her other hand replaced the first, two fingers sliding into her tight, teenage pussy and pumping unhurriedly in and out. Her clit was resting on her palm, and her mind - however distant, and preoccupied with her lust it might have been - noted that she was so warm. Her body seemed undisturbed by the thought, and she ground her clit into her hand desperately, groaning as she did.

The first two fingers that had explored her body were moving to her asshole now. They traced very slow and gentle circles around that wrinkled and forbidden rose, as if imitating a lover's tongue. Then, the two fingers shifted, pushing against her asshole, insistent and aggressive.

She moaned louder now, unable to contain any of the noises she was desperate to make. Her breath was short and ragged, her mind cloudy with pleasures of her flesh, and her skin seemed to crawl with the touch of a million rose petals. She face was peaceful, blissful and exquisite, even though there was no-one around to se.

She could feel the little piercing between her pussy and ass shaking, juddering as her body quivered. It added another dimension to the sensations she could feel, but as her fingers continued their rhythm of thrusting and withdrawing, everything began to blend together.

Her moans became louder, her breathing and heart-rate faster. She like as if she was on fire, and her vision began to fade around the edges. Even her hearing went, the pounding of her heart there like thunder.

Her body clenched and shuddered unpredictably and she rested her head on a pillow, both to relax her neck and shoulders and to silence her ever louder shout of ecstasy.

When she finally came, her hands pressed hard to her body, her fingers deep inside her and her palms flattened as if to try and contain her squirting juices. She was soaked, as was the bed, but she didn't care, too busy screaming through the throes of passion.

When he found her, she was lying on her back on the bed, her vulva still flashing in the light. She looked nearly as wet as the bed, but she showed no shame. Gently sucking the same four fingers, one after another after another to savour the tastes, she looked him straight in the eye and smirked.

No comments:

Post a Comment