CHULANE
blending into the darkness, & it gets harder to see
His mind whirls with the desire, the lust that is all-consuming, his focus unable to settle on just one thing because so much is happening. And yet, it is all just her, her hands, her body, her hot breath, her lips - he is lost in the sensations, any rational thoughts abandoning him to make way only for her and everything she is, everything she brings. Wet hands run through his hair as her body comes to his, the gap closing between them, her body fitting against his, melding and melting, almost making him blind with the depth of his yearning.
Then she is kissing him, giving him another thing to get lost in, her position over him clearly something she enjoys - and he does too, one of his hands rushing again to press against her back, between the bony curves of her shoulder blades. His other was still venturing south, roaming in the depths of the water along her thigh, pausing at the junction of her inner hip -
- suddenly his breath hitches as he becomes startlingly aware of her hand, of its journey along the contours of his body. He shudders and shivers beneath her, utterly unable to contain the reaction that certainly wasn't from cold. He recovers, only to lose himself again at her look, her sirens call, as her hand toys with the sensitive area above his manhood, teasing and playing with him. He shifts slightly then, part in reaction to her games, part to ensure he was also able to play, to participate in equal partnership with her.
Her hips shift and so do his, though his was for far more uncontrolled, primal reasons than hers, as her hand found his cock swollen and taut, while his sought out her folds, her hidden jewels within. He was moaning, the sound varying in intensity from hungrily begging for more of her, to straining to keep himself in check, even as his fingers found her, and began a dance of their own along the sensitive contours of her clit. He was bolder, more confident this time, more familiar with her, with her preferences, her desires, her needs.
His fingers enter her even as hers grip his sheath, sparks of lust overwhelming him for a moment as he groans against her, almost angrily, determined to extend this game out for longer, cursing his body for being so ready to give to her, to submit to her ministrations. The groan becomes a kiss however, his mouth seeking whatever it can reach, a breast, the contours of her collarbone, her neck, her mouth - anything to maximise the contact between them, to prolong the moment, to revel in it with her.
Then she is kissing him, giving him another thing to get lost in, her position over him clearly something she enjoys - and he does too, one of his hands rushing again to press against her back, between the bony curves of her shoulder blades. His other was still venturing south, roaming in the depths of the water along her thigh, pausing at the junction of her inner hip -
- suddenly his breath hitches as he becomes startlingly aware of her hand, of its journey along the contours of his body. He shudders and shivers beneath her, utterly unable to contain the reaction that certainly wasn't from cold. He recovers, only to lose himself again at her look, her sirens call, as her hand toys with the sensitive area above his manhood, teasing and playing with him. He shifts slightly then, part in reaction to her games, part to ensure he was also able to play, to participate in equal partnership with her.
Her hips shift and so do his, though his was for far more uncontrolled, primal reasons than hers, as her hand found his cock swollen and taut, while his sought out her folds, her hidden jewels within. He was moaning, the sound varying in intensity from hungrily begging for more of her, to straining to keep himself in check, even as his fingers found her, and began a dance of their own along the sensitive contours of her clit. He was bolder, more confident this time, more familiar with her, with her preferences, her desires, her needs.
His fingers enter her even as hers grip his sheath, sparks of lust overwhelming him for a moment as he groans against her, almost angrily, determined to extend this game out for longer, cursing his body for being so ready to give to her, to submit to her ministrations. The groan becomes a kiss however, his mouth seeking whatever it can reach, a breast, the contours of her collarbone, her neck, her mouth - anything to maximise the contact between them, to prolong the moment, to revel in it with her.
try to stand & unravel what a man's gotta be
