I bent down to kiss him, his lips covered with me, salty outlines around his mouth and face. His smile. A moment of recognition, of what we were doing, of what we wanted, and what was the only thing left to do. Falling around each other once more, moving as one yet separate. The room so full of light. Everything was out in the open, nothing to hide behind, or disappear into, only each other.
He was on top of me, missionary, yet this place, this position, felt so new. His movements’ gentle, he was there, I could feel him and if I moved any closer, he would be inside me, but I didn’t. Holding it for as long as both he and I could stand, his tip stared going in and out, and then, determinedly, a thrust of him inside. As if all spaces inside my body were him, holding him, contracting and releasing him. I pulled away and into him, my hips up as high as I could, moving around him, holding him between my legs, letting him move me at a speed he wanted.
He lifted my legs to his shoulders and drew his chest close to mine, kisses and breath and moans, his fingers in my mouth, my fingers and hands all over him. Fucking and moving, and losing ourselves in each other, in this moment, meeting each other in the same place. I could tell he was close but that he didn’t want to finish. I didn’t succumb to his want and moved in a way, devoured him in a way, in which he was out of control and under my command. His face lost, his eyes in mine, his body in mine.
Pushing the wall, unable to hold off, he came. I could feel his cum release inside of me. He pulled out, softly, knowing that the feeling just before he leaves me drives me wild.
I could feel my lips were swollen, the swelling always the result from coming hard. He lay there, beating on my chest, little beads of my cum hung on his beard.
