“I—”
I attempted before his tongue retreated to the back of my mouth, interrupting my words and judgment. It was over. My hands moved up to his head and pulled him into me. I stroked the waves in his soft hair that was neatly cut into his usual Caesar style. In no time, I was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He helped me take it off and just when I thought I was in for a home run, I felt his undershirt. We managed that one, too. My fingers ran up and down his strapping back.
I moaned at the swift movements of his tongue that butterflied in my mouth. He was right, I needed him, so bad that I started removing my own pants and underwear. When I got them to my ankles, I started with his belt. He pushed my shirt up and unlatched my bra to shift it up. His tongue felt so masterful, dancing on my sensitive nipples. I nearly lost my mind. Trying to finish undoing his pants, I unzipped his jeans and went into his boxer briefs to pull him out, stroking him to express my appreciation of his firm presence, his length and powerful girth. I gave special attention to the large vein that ran the full length of him and fantasized about my tongue massaging it.
Azmir moaned into my breasts. “You’re going to cause my premature undoing. It’s been a while for me, too,” he purred. Be easy.
I looked him in the eyes and realized my mouth was wide opened by the cool air hitting it.
“I can’t wait. Give it to me,” I whispered and kicked off my pants and panties.
I lifted my sex to the tip of him, finding the right angle for him to enter and once I did, I pushed down on his hips with my lower legs and forcefully met him in a thrust, being sure to take in every inch of his abundance. Azmir’s eyes closed and his jaw flinched as he groaned loudly on top of me. I collapsed, separating our bodies and then pushed back up, bringing him into me again. This time I joined him in moaning. I did that several times before wrapping my legs around him tighter and slamming into him repetitively, taking no prisoners. And in seconds, Azmir’s body shuddered as he gave way to his orgasm. He fell on top of me and I kept with my upward thrusts to prolong his outer orbit float.
When he was done, he peered down at me, “Didn’t I tell you to take it slow? Got me performing like a fuckin’ teenager.” I loved when his Brooklyn tongue slipped.
I giggled and ordered, “Sit up.”
He maneuvered our bodies so that I was on top of him and pulled my shirt and bra off before kicking his sneakers, boxers and jeans off. Once properly positioned, I felt his fluids run down my canal, spilling onto him and I rode him with no holds bar, grabbing the back of the sofa. He felt so good inside me. I was so grateful for his steel erection that stood so tall against my swollen walls and wanted to take full advantage of it. Too many nights I’d succumbed to never feeling this again. Never having him again. But he was here, working me over.
He grabbed my cheeks behind me and massaged them in, driving me crazy. He didn’t kiss me, in fact, he laid his head back to get a full view of me bouncing on top of him. So badly I tried to keep a straight face and not give away how well he rubbed against that tender spot deep within, but when I took in all of my senses, like my breasts bouncing in the air, the smell of his cologne with natural body oil and his drunken gaze, my body gave way to my orgasm and my eyes dropped as though I was in excruciating pain. I opened up my mouth and let out sounds of a porn star. Azmir pushed me on and off him to intensify my euphoria until my cries turned into whimpers.