Copyright © 2007 by Strickland83. All rights reserved.
He slipped into the room, gliding silently like a cat. Barely a sound, a wisp of a breeze. She was lying there as he knew he'd find her. She was asleep on her back, wearing just a pair of panties — nothing else. He smiled because that was how he expected to find her. She always slept like that. She shifted slightly in her sleep, the gentlest of moans escaping her lips. A heavy breath, perhaps. A fragment of a dream that wasn't quite enough to disturb her sleep.
He could smell the lavender she always put in the laundry. The sheets always smelled of lavender, of her. It was just another thing to remind him. He also recognized the clutter on the nightstand — framed photographs, a half empty glass of water, a box of Kleenex; on the floor, a heap of yesterday's clothes.
He grabbed the hem of his white t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn't care where it landed when he tossed it. That didn't matter. What mattered was touching her flesh. His hands went to the button on his white jeans. He fumbled just an instant before the button was undone. The zipper made the slightest of sound as he worked it down, then he pushed his pants to the floor. He stepped out of them, his erection making the front of his white briefs tent. His fingers now in the waistband, he pushed those down, feeling the cool air on his cock. He was erect, painfully so, and only the touch of her would ease that pain.
He crawled onto the bed, slowly so the mattress wouldn't creak. Up on his hands and knees, he approached her. He was over her, looking down at her sleeping form. He loved watching her sleep. She was so beautiful; she had always been so beautiful. From the first time he ever saw her, his heart ached in his chest when he looked at her. He felt such passion for her that being apart was a physical discomfort. It was a something that nothing could satisfy.
Ever so softly, he bent down until his face was next to hers. He pressed his lips to that spot on her cheek just in front of her earlobe. He reveled in the softness of her skin, the warmth of body. It always made him feel so alive to touch her warm body. His lips puckered, brushing against her. He heard her breath catch in her sleep. On one level, she knew he was there.
He wanted to run his tongue down her body but he knew that would wake her. That was against the rules. He moved his face down her body a little so he could kiss her on her neck. He sought that hollow in her collar bone. He smiled again as he remembered how she liked that. She didn't wake; she didn't try to brush him away. She was dreaming and he wasn't going to disturb her. He couldn't.
Now puckering his lips over a nipple, he kissed again, savoring the touch, the taste of her body. He sucked gently on the nipple, almost too much. She sighed. Startled, he released the nipple and moved lower. A kiss over her belly button and he was able to feel her stomach react with a tremble to his touch.
As if by instinct, or practice, her legs moved further apart, making room for him. He was lying between her spread legs now, the bulge of her mound beneath her panties directly in front of him. He could smell her pussy. It was faint, but his senses were heightened. Using a touch as light as a butterfly, he gently grabbed the hem of her panties and pulled one leg opening to the side to expose her lips. Her scent was a little stronger. She knew he was there, or she was dreaming, because she was damp for him. He leaned forward, not using his tongue yet. As his nose passed over her curly hair he inhaled, savoring her special aroma. She was very wet for him.
He slowly extended his tongue, judging the distance carefully in the darkness so when he made contact it was just barely. He could feel the fine hairs tickle his tongue. He pressed a little harder, just a little, so he could press through the hair and make contact with her lips. She started, just enough to cause her to shift a little in her sleep, still on her back. He pushed harder with his tongue and her lips parted for him, moisture flowing out so he could taste it. Such strong memories the flavor brought back!
It was time; he knew there wasn't much more time. He reluctantly yet eagerly got to his knees, her splayed legs to either side of him. His cock was throbbing in anticipation, a drop of moisture beading at its tip. Still holding the leg opening of her panties to one side, he maneuvered carefully so the tip pressed against her lips. When he felt the wet warmth of her pussy, he gasped, hurriedly putting the free hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. He pressed forward and felt her opening not yet yielding to him.
She was tight, or he was large, or perhaps both. She was wet enough, though. As he pressed, he felt her opening slip a little, then yield, then welcome the intruder. He slid into her body, biting his lower lip so he wouldn't cry out at the intense pleasure he felt. She was enveloping him, and her lubrication was flowing freely. As he pressed in, she moaned but still didn't awaken.
He pulled back slowly, savoring the passage of each of her ridges against his shaft. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see how his shaft glistened. It had been inside her, had been lubricated by her. He pushed, entering again. He wanted to go faster but he couldn't wake her. He had to force himself to go slow. It was exquisite torture to have to take the pleasure so slowly. In and out he moved, feeling such love for the woman lying beneath him. He lowered himself on top of her just until he could feel her breasts beneath his chest and her breath against his cheek. Her breath was hot against his neck, on his cheek, and he remembered a little more. He had to be careful to keep his weight off her so he wouldn't wake her.
He dared to move a little faster, feeling her now starting to respond. As he thrust against her, she thrust back against him, but just a little. As he pulled out, she pulled away. It was a rhythm that was born of instinct.
.... There is more of this story ...