Hands to the Wall 1

If I were to tell you the truth you wouldn´t know he was such a good lover. He was a small man, thin, without muscles to show. He had a small frame; he was well proportionated in his average height. He was about 5¨5 feet tall, He had a round face, cute like a girl if it were not for the dark beard that he managed to grow. He had soft skin and elegant mannerism. He was a sir, a small nobleman.  He had a thunder voice that commanded obedience and ways that commanded true respect.

If I describe him like this, maybe you can tell why he was a good lover, and maybe you could imagine the careful desire that drove his hands in my skin, but normally, you couldn’t tell. All you could see would be a gentleman, and I prefer it like that, all to myself. Edward to myself.

He has this way of getting under my skin, of being manly and commanding and careful and yet made me feel cared for and insecure at the same time. He can be my companion for the afternoon, just walking and enjoying ourselves and made me think if what he wants from me is friendship or sex, even when he has vastly demonstrated that he thrives for both.

He would take me to the gardens, he would touch my waist to pull me in an intimate and yet very proper conversation and then he would linger there, touching that small inch of my skin, saying nothing and yet screaming to everyone around who is that bedded me. He would kiss me senseless in hidden corners and lift from it like it wasn’t nothing, like could switch his desire on and off at his command leaving me with bothered breaths and bothered feelings between my tights.

He could kiss me with despair, care and command in the very same kiss and I would pray his name for pulling such incredible thing. He was good and he knew it. He knew it and he played with it like a lion with it’s pray. I was a compliant sheep to the butcher.

Last night was a perfect example. We were discussing some voyage planification: costs, dates, food arrangements and a big etc.  I took a brake to wash my face and encountered him in the deserted hallway. He looked at me in the eye and took my hand. He backed on the wall and settled me inside his arms; I smiled as he placed a soft kiss in my mouth.

We kissed softly, enjoying the company first and the physical sensation later. He trapped me there and deepened the kiss. I melted there; I drank in his manly perfume and ran my hands on his jaw. He held me strong with one arms as his other hand pulled my knee to his hip.

There is something madding to the way he touches me, to the way he can kiss me with so much softness and jet pull me so hard against him, pressing me into the trap of his chest and the wall. He kissed my neck and ran his hand on my elevated tight. I held on his shoulder, I kissed the top of his head, I felt his hand wrestling with my pants and that made me smile. Giving back a little bit of the lack of control he made me feel.

He isn’t a forgiving person or a restless man. He smiled devilish to my own smile; he pulled my underwired from behind me, teasing me with the tightness that bitted my crotch. We kissed deeply, we kissed with time, enjoying the way we mad each other feel. He secured my heel on his back and I took pride on keeping myself there, even when his touch send me so far from my feet supporting me.

I went under his shirt to feel his body, to touch his warm skin, to feel the predicament of soft skin holding such a strong man. I traced circles on his back that mirrored the ones I made with my tongue on his neck. I breathed hotly in his ear, knowing his grab in my ass would grow hungrier.

He lifted my shirt slowly, feeling my body inch by inch on doing so, he was maddening me with his intense glance and I drinking on it. I ran my fingers on his hair; I kissed his mouth until my mouth was raw, hot, wet against his, until he finally got me out of my shirt. He pinched my nipple softly and grabbed my breast like claiming it to him. I held on his head as he nibbled at my nipple, sending a warning look “stay put it said”.

I caressed his back as he played with me, as he touched me all over. He kissed each breast, he held my neck and turned my head to nuzzle at my nape, he turned me and pressed me to the wall.

“Hands in the wall, don’t take them off” just not touching him was difficult enough.

He pressed a knuckle to my spine and pressed it down like a zipper, it send electricity through my limbs. He interweaved his finger in my hair and pulled up to expose my neck, he kept me there to kiss me and tease my breasts; I wanted so badly to touch him. I touched his hand on my hair and began to unmake my belt and pants “Hands. On. The. Wall. Darling. “I could note the smile in his voice and supported myself on the wall again with a pained moan.

He pulled my pants and underwear down and I stepped out of them. He was running his fingernails ghostly over my skin, from shoulders to knees I was pure goosebumps. I heard his clothes fall to the floor as well; somehow only imagining him naked behind me was sexier than seeing him strip.

He touched lightly at my inner tight, “spread” he said and I obligated, I was shamefully wet, dripping almost. He touched me very lightly and pressed a finger from front to back, mapping me out. He cleaned his drenched finger in my back “So wet, I could bath you in this” his voice was low and deep in the ear. He was smelling my hair as he repeated the motion. I moaned at the pressure, I could feel myself dripping; my skin wet running drops of my own juices.

He did it one more time before introducing two fingers inside me. I think I did a noise because he held my face with his other hand to kiss my temple. This was his, gentle and merciless. One hand to drive you crazy and the other to hold you on dear life to not drawn in pleasure. He was playing with me, exploring, stretching, curling his fingers, there were no rhythm to go anywhere and it was maddening as he was.

He pulled his wet hand and held my breast leaving it slippery.  “Feel this?” he said as my breast escaped his grab of my boob. I nodded. “This is you kissing me, and this is me kissing you”. He penetrated me hard, filling me and making me cried out his name. He grabbed my hips with his strong finger and I braced myself on the wall. He trusted in hard and pulled out slowly, one, two, three times before finding his rhythm. I was about to come just from his fingers, his cock inside me was too much, before knowing I was milking him, barely holding myself to stand.

“Hold it darling, mmh, come again with me” he was gasping behind me, burying himself deep inside me. I fought the urge to collapse and let myself ride onto another orgasm even greater than the precedent. He had his mouth open at the nape of my neck, already given up on kissing it. A couple trust afterwards he was coming inside me, I was pulsing hard against him trying to help his orgasm but it only fueled mine even more, my sight became withe and all my world reduce to his thick cock inside of my pulsing pussy. A moment later we were both on the floor, he was partially over me and we both were catching on our breath, skin glistening form sweat and sex.

He stood and pulled me up; we could barely stand on our feet. I held him close to me and tasted the sweat on his collar bone, he rested his forehead in my hair and I hugged him even stronger. “That was… incredible” I murmured to his shoulder. He laughed happily and took my hand “lets bath, we smell like sex” I liked it, but didn’t say a word; instead I kissed him languidly and went for towels for both of us.

“If this is your way of convincing me of going on a journey with you, you are going to do better” I teased him. He faked an offended look and followed me to the bathroom.