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Something for You
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
something4you
Arousing you was easy, but deliciously slow. We sit now
on the bed, nude, lightly embraced, my lips on your shoulder,
kissing, my hands on your back, caressing. I can feel your
breath, soft and shuddering, in my ear, your nipples,
stiffening, pressing into my chest. I kiss you again,
carefully, lightly on the lips. I kiss you again, a little
deeper, but no less gently, tasting you, the warmth and
wetness of your mouth.
"Lie back," I whisper.
Slowly you slide back from my arms, laying back on the
bed. My hands continue their caresses as you move, going
carefully from your back to your front, maintaining constant,
touching motions over your skin. You settle back into the
bed.
My hands move lightly over you, tracing the lines of
your face, the swell of your breasts, the curves of your hips
and surface of your stomach, and the tips of your nipples.
You shudder at the touches, almost as if chilled, and a moan
and sigh escapes your lips.
When one hand strays close to your mouth, your eyes
close and you capture a finger with your lips. It seems to
disappear into your mouth, half of its own volition, half of
yours. The heat and wetness of your mouth on my finger is
exquisite, the sensation of your moving tongue on this one
small part of me remarkable. The look on your face betrays
the pleasure you take in this simple act.
All the while my eyes are fixed on you, aware of every
breath, every motion. I feel you under my hands and
fingertips smooth, warm in some places, genuinely hot in
others. The feel of you is like no other. No surface, no
fabric, so object, no substance feels like you. Another
depth of pleasure is found in knowing these parts. I can
feel your heat, your flesh, your blood, your excitement
moving, beating, living under my fingers. They feel as if
they float on the surface of some delicious, flowing liquid,
yielding to and at the same time pressing back against my
touches.
I carefully withdraw my finger from your mouth, both
hands on the sides of your face, caressing back down your
body. You moan; half disappointed in response; your eyes
still shut. You squirm lightly.
"Shhhhhh," I say slowly, not a request for silence, but a
gentle utterance to comfort you. "Relax, just relax. Just
accept this for you. This is for you." I punctuate this
with a kiss on top of your belly button, accented playfully
with my tongue swirling into it. You giggle lightly at the
touch, then let out a deep breath and seem to settle deeper
into the bed.
I rest my head lightly on you, just above your hips.
The feel of your skin against my face is wonderful. I can
hear your heart beating strongly above me, and I'm aware of
how deep, and excited your breathing has become.
I can't see my hands as they've moved down your legs,
stroking lightly back and forth up and down the outsides of
your thighs. Each stroke down a little further, reaching
down to your calves. My hands reach under them, lightly
kneading the firm flesh, caressing up and down.
I lift my head up, giving another kiss to your skin,
just before looking up fully. The side of my face is hot,
and lightly moist with perspiration, yours and mine, from
being pressed against you.
My hands are now squeezing both your feet, massaging
them. I look back up at you again. I smile. Your eyes are
closed; you seem lost in a dream. "Relax," I say again
gently, perhaps unnecessarily, you may not be able to see my
smile, but the look on your face suggests that you can feel
it.
I slowly move my hands apart, bringing your feet with
them, opening you. I put your feet down on the bed, your
legs slightly bent and open. I can see you glistening. I
lean forward into to you, laying on my stomach as I move
between your legs. My hands again on your calves, working
back up.
A slow sighing moan escapes your lips, perhaps because
you can feel the heat of my skin of my face, as I can feel
the heat of the skin of your thighs.
My hands rest on your knees, and as I press them down,
lightly, turning the insides of your thighs up, I turn my
head, kissing one side of your thighs, gently, wetly, and on
the other thigh as well. Your legs quiver slightly at the
kisses, and almost shake when I kiss them again, this time
opening my mouth wide, and allowing my tongue to circle on
your skin. My hands and fingers are on the insides of your
thighs, holding them open with no more than gentle caresses
with my palms and fingertips.
Your pleasure is like sunlight at this point, above and
in front me, radiating down like a summer sunrise, with its
easy light heat and a promise of a deep heat later in day.
My own pleasure is like basking in that sun, drinking in its
warmth on my skin.
I stop for just a second. "Just enjoy. I want you to
take your time. Nothing has to go any faster than you want.
Just let it all just happen."
I move up a little, slowly, gingerly. I take one more
kiss, very close to the top of your thigh, wetness and heat
against my cheek. I give one more gentle urging to relax and
I turn my head up. My lips part slowly, and I stretch my
neck up a little. I taste you even before I touch you.
My lips feel the edges of you, as your thighs surround
my head. I move my head up and down, tracing the my lips on
yours with the lightest of touches, again uttering, "relax,"
"enjoy" and "let it happen" against you, as if trying to put
the words into your body. My hands reach under the crooks
under your knees, and lightly stroke at the outsides of your
hips. You shudder, and moan, "Please!" with an odd relaxed
urgency.
My tongue parts your lips, taking its first genuine
taste of you, your wetness and taste seeming to send a
charge through me. I restrain and impulse just to devour you
madly, greedily. Instead I move my tongue gently up and
down, feeling along the length of your lips, taking careful
note of every curve, and dip.
I measure your pleasure with the light shudders of your
body mixed with your moans and sighs. I continue patiently,
waiting until you seem to settle into a relaxed rhythm that
matches the strokes of my tongue, and the breeze of my
breathing against you. All the while I feel something
building within you, layer by layer step by step. If it
could be said that I were laying the foundations for this, I
do it in careful, measured steps, stopping at each point
along the way to see if everything fits correctly, and
perhaps polishing a bit, or caressing something into place.
You utter, "Please!" again with a delightful breathless
quality in your voice. With my eyes looking up as far as
they can without moving my head, I can see just over the rise
of your body. I can see you slowly writhing and undulating.
I reach up with my hands, under your legs, making them bend a
little more, rising slightly higher to permit my hands to
move up. The caress over the edge of your waist and sides,
spreading out and massaging the front of you as my tongue
continues its gentle actions, as if trying to urge and
control some current within you.
I shift my body up a little, getting even closer now. I
tip my head up, never breaking contact though, allowing my
tongue to move all the way to the tops of your lips as my
mouth parts open a little wider.
My mouth covers you now. Your flesh, hot and wet, seems
so relaxed against my face that I can pull it into my mouth
with my lips with very little effort. My lips and my tongue
circle and caress around your clit, only occasionally
drifting very lightly across it to test where your excitement
and pleasure lies, to ensure that I'm applying a little more
than enough, but never too much.
That which seems to be building in you rises again. I
temper and slow my touches and licks, and kisses, allowing
you to enjoy the building, as well as the result. I move
back down into your lips again, carefully slowly, feeling how
the pleasure there works for you as well, perhaps not as
quickly, strongly, or suddenly, but slower, more even
pleasure, like a pull of cool water on a hot day, before some
final exertion.
It's then that I recognize the need. With a muffled,
"take it slowly" on your flesh, I move my head up again,
working again, slowly but earnestly. I hear you crying out,
moaning loudly. I need my hands with pressure from my neck
and face to hold your hips still enough so that I don't loose
contact with you. I feel you riding a curve, rising on it.
I'm careful to map it as I go along. There's a pause, spent
by my lips, mouth and hands gently caressing you, patiently,
carefully, confident in an eventuality.
I feel a pulse move through you, and your body seems to
almost heave away from me by some irresistible force. I hear
you cry out in a long drawing moan, that sounds as if some
pressure in you had been released as was surging through you.
I keep my mouth on you, no longer moving as eagerly,
just trying to maintain a warm comfortable presence on your
body. I can feel you surging under my lips and tongue
though. Occasionally I do lick, kiss, and tongue, as if
trying to channel this current through you, and directing it
to continue as long as possible, drawing it out.
I shift back just a little, smiling, perhaps devilishly.
My face is soaked, and the smell of you seems to fill me. I
kiss the inside of your thighs again, warmly, comfortingly.
I hear you laughing lightly above me. You say something
includes the word "marvelous" in it. I am listening, but my
attention is focused on another sense, not of touch, sight or
sound. I'm concentrating very carefully on timing.
You protest mildly as my face moves onto your body
again; they fade as my lips find you again, and my tongue
tastes you again. It's not uncommon to find something that
you're looking for to find another one right behind it.
Your moans and sighs are at once new and at the same
time familiar to me, just as the feel of my mouth, lips and
tongue must feel to you. I'm sucking a little more strongly
now. My hands are working a little more earnestly, stifling
those last protests and pulling you up from any settling you
may have done. You're louder now, freer, moving without
hesitation. In and odd way you're more coherent, offering
urgings and directions to that which you crave the most, like
returning to some treasured getaway, knowing what to look at
and what to savor. With relish and delight I take your
directions, accenting the actions with my own ideas, caresses
of my hands, flutterings of my tongues, and perhaps an ever
so gentle nibbling a little of my teeth.
Soon though, you're not speaking again. I hear you
moan, and cry, the pleasure in them as palpable as wind.
It's building again within you. Stronger this time, deeper,
I can feel it filling you. The sense of its presence above
is nothing short of awesome. I wonder if I could contain the
sheer force of it, and wonder further if I should even dare
try!
You curse this time, as you nearly explode against you.
Your whole body jerks away from me almost as if you were
convulsing. You writhe against the bed, almost thrashing.
My face is no longer on you. Which maybe just as well, you
maybe sensitive beyond a point of pain now, and pain is the
last thing that I want for you. Besides, I have yet one more
way of accenting your pleasure now, that I myself need as
much as you.
I move up the bed quickly. This time tears are
streaming down your face, and you seem to be sobbing. I
scoop you up in my arms, enveloping you. Your head quickly
finds its way onto my shoulder, as my hands caress and stroke
your back.
Your body shudders against me, in time with your sobs.
I feel one of your tears drip onto my shoulder and roll down
my back. I hold you tight. The heat of your quivering body
a wonderful sensation.
I have this brief fear that I may have done too much,
that I may have actually hurt you. That fear is silenced as
the raw intensity of your pleasure subsides, like a flood
receding, leaving in its wake fresh and fertile ground. The
gentle heat and passion of your kisses on serve to confirm
this.
I'm hugging you again, my face buried against you. The
scent of your hair mixing with everything else.
"All for you my, Darling. All that I feel for you," I
say intensely against you. And now you feel my tear on your
shoulder.
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