Unfinished

Your hands stroke the stockinged legs in front of you, knees bent over your lap; the girl who they belong to shifts and sighs. You turn your head away from the screen in front of you to comment on her ridiculous choice in movies, only to discover she’s fallen asleep. Smirking, you lean over to wake her, but stop to stare at her peaceful profile.

Auburn hair fanned out over the couch cushion, long dark lashes splayed against smooth skin, lush lips contradicting the small button nose and spray of freckles across its bridge. Sleeping Beauty. You hands travel down the length of her thigh, caressing; with each pass your fingers brush closer to the sensitive inner flesh. She murmurs in her sleep as her legs part, allowing your fingers to drift further up her body. You move out from under her and bring yourself to face her on your knees, hands lightly pushing up the satin length of her dress, an act of worship. Fingers follow the sheer length of the stockings with reverence as they brush against the black scrap of lace, the only barrier between your flesh and hers.

You slip your hands underneath her to pull the silky fabric off; her body moves to turn over against the sudden cold, but you hold her tight and she squirms before settling. You lean forward, pushing her dress over her hips, bringing your face down to her cleft. Your warm breath mingles with her moist heat; her eyes flutter open as your lips touch hers, tongue softly parting the folds to find her clit. She moans as she arches towards you, still half asleep, her hands weaving into the curls of your hair. As you lick and suck on the sensitized nub, her grip tightens; just as you think you’ve brought her over the edge she pulls you away from her, smiling.

Lifting herself up from the sofa, she brings her face to yours, her kiss soft, sweet, tasting her own saltiness on your lips. Fingers trace the curve of your chin as the kiss deepens, her tongue sweeping in, taking over; it’s always like this with her: she consumes you. Pushing her body forward, your head hits the sofa, her thighs straddling your hips, mouth fused to yours, a dance of lips, tongue, and teeth. Making an effort not to distract her from your mouth, your hand reaches in between your bodies, fingers blindly searching until you feel the wet prize. You slip one finger into her; soft flesh giving way easily, your thumb massages her clit. She tightens her thighs and thrust towards you, mouth still working on yours with renewed urgency. Another finger slips into her slit, pushing deeper until you hit the spongy inner wall. You stroke slowly as she whimpers, although she remains undistracted from your lips. It’s one of the reasons you’re so taken: she’s the only one you’ve known that can give and take pleasure simultaneously and in equal measure, without compromising on the details.

You push against her folds, increasing the pace of the digits inside; focusing on your own actions requires giving up control of your mouth to hers. Holding her nether lips between three curled fingers, you control her climax and try as she might, she can’t dictate her own desire. You slip in and out, plunging a little further each time, feeling her get slicker with every thrust. You feel her draw air out of your mouth as her back arches, inner folds rippling as her flesh tightens around your fingers. She returns the air to your lungs in a moan, nipping your tongue with her teeth. She lifts her face from yours, lips full and bruised. You slip your fingers out from her and bring them to your lips, savoring the taste of her. Taking your face in her hands, she leans her forehead against yours, body relaxing for a moment, purged.

A moment is all it ever lasts though as her hands drift down the length of your chest. She lifts her face from yours slowly; brown eyes never leaving your hazel gaze, her fingers reach unerringly for the rigid length straining against the soft fabric. Ever so slowly, she unsnaps the button and pulls down the zipper. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of squirming under her skilled touch. One of these days you’re going to win, but as her hands reach in to stroke, you know it’s not going to be today. She tugs on the elastic waist of your briefs, puling them down, a soft sigh escapes her, as the object of her desire springs free. It dawns on you that she’s not unaffected, maybe not as in control as she always seems to be when it comes to these intimate moments.

Her hands caress you slowly, cool fingers on hot flesh, increasing the tempo in slow increments, fingers curling around your balls, lightly squeezing as you grit your teeth. The blood rushes down from your head as you become painfully hard. She stops her ministrations, only to replace hands with mouth. Ruby red lips engulf your shaft and journey down until you feel the back of her throat against the moist tip. Her mouth moves back up and you feel pressure as she sucks, her enjoyment is evident as is her concentration. Eyes gently close as she moans, the vibration adding another layer of sensation against the flesh in her mouth.  Alternating between milking and licking, the rhythm of her mouth steadily builds, one hand squeezing your balls the other following the trail her lips leave along your cock.  You’ve told her you don’t share her enthusiasm for fellatio, but somehow she makes giving blowjobs an art form, and she doesn’t seem to have a problem working on you for as long as it takes. Parting her lips she takes a breath, bringing cool air into her hot mouth, the feeling is unnerving and unbearably pleasurable; her tongue slips from her mouth, twirling around your crown, as if relishing an ice cream cone, a brush of teeth against the tender underside causes you to stiffen even more, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she moves back down your length, retracting her pearly whites back under heart-shaped lips. She moves her hand underneath you, squeezing your cheeks as her own cheeks tighten around you in an indulgent draw. You clench your fists, knowing you’ve lost this battle of wills, as your body jerks filling her mouth with the spoils. Her mouth takes leisurely pace down the softening length as you come fast, the dregs of your spent passion drip onto her bottom lip; her eyes open as she looks up at you, tongue swiping across her mouth, like a cat lapping up precious drops of cream.

Swinging her legs off the sofa, she stands; slowly, her gaze unfaltering, she pulls the zipper down from her dress and lets it slip to the floor. As you reach for her she turns and walks down the hall; turning towards the bedroom, pausing long enough to slingshot her black lace bra into your lap. You shake your head as you follow to finish what you started.

Articulating and finishing someone else's unfulfilled fantasy... -BR

© Briar Rose