A warm meal and a quiet night

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Hitching breaths and mumbled moans drive him insane with desire, as he uses them as a roadmap to learn about her - where does she require his attention, how much pressure should he apply with his careful ministrations, how fast should he move. She's an open book to him, and though the pressure within him is building, threateningly so, he holds it back with grunted effort, to continue exploring her, pleasuring her. That wasn't to say he didn't the whole exercise pleasurable too - he was lost with her, abandoning any thoughts that weren't here and now, hypersensitive to her every touch, her every whim, falling towards her lips for that all-consuming kiss, far deeper than any they had shared before. But there was a desperation behind it too, as his fingers found that spot, as her euphoria pulsed towards him - causing the heat in his loins to decidedly rise as well, as again, quite involuntarily his hips bucked, bringing him closer again to her. His length was pressed against her inner thigh, his thumb dancing and caressing, stroking and darting every now and again towards her opening, wanting this sensation to last as well, wanting to prolong it, string it out for all eternity - but then, had he not had this argument with himself already? So as her feelings and wetness increase in intensity, he guides himself closer to her, raising his head slightly to meet her eyes as his tip pauses, pressed against her entrance. Silently his eyes seem to say, tell me, and only when she did, would he take the first slow, deliberate plunge into her warm depths. some things are meant to be