He stepped out of his boxers and pants, discarding them along with his shirt. I raised his T-shirt over his head, breaking our mutual gaze to admire his chiseled chest. So badly I wanted to run my tongue from his clavicles past his sternum and down to silky pelvic trail leading to his long and heavy appendage that was now poking me. He tossed his T-shirt and promenaded behind me.
“Step out,” he ordered. I took two steps forward, leaving my dress behind for him to throw over into the chair as well, finding it amazing that he didn't miss the chair not one time. I stood in my heels when he hooked me at my belly and pushed my shoulders down bending me over. I felt his mouth on my backside as his lips trailed down it and onto the back of my thighs then back up, pulling my lace panties down with his teeth. I held onto my kneecaps trying to maintain my equilibrium during the heat of the moment. He had me step out of those before unsnapping my bra and releasing my throbbing breasts.
As his large hands massaged them, pulling at my nipples, he whispered in my ear, “You're so fucking perfect.”
I was turned out! I’d never heard Azmir narrate our lovemaking so. What is going on? I wasn’t complaining because his words and deeds sent me over the edge, but I have to admit I was taken by surprise.
He walked me over to the bed prompting me to crawl onto it and bend over. With my heels on and down on all four, Azmir opened and clutched my cheeks licking me from back to front until I moaned his name half past manic. I didn't climax and I don't believe he wanted me to. When he stopped, he sat up behind me pushing my neck into the mattress with one strong hand and ran his thumb the full-length of my spine pressing gently into it with the other. My body convulsed and it wasn't orgasmic, ending my thoughts of alcohol being the cause of my sexual demise with Azmir. I was every bit of sober and floated on cloud nine.
The only difference between this night and any other that I was under the influence is that my heightened intensity made me feel like I was floating in orbit looking down to view the experience. Tonight, I was living in each moment and boy, was it good! Entering me from behind and causing my body to shiver as he coursed through me, Azmir made sweet and adoring love to me that night and I rode out each second of each moment of passion. It was rough. It was hard. It was loaded. And it was impassioned.
The next morning I broke out of my sleep early—too early. I fought my daze trying to recall where I was. It helped when I turned to find Azmir laying next to me on his back recovering through sleep from the party last night. Was he drunk? I’d hoped not. I was completely naked remembering how just a few hours ago I went through the suite blowing out each and every candle after Azmir passed out, I didn't want the place to catch fire. After that task was complete, I showered and washed the make up off my face. Finally, I got into bed and reflected on how romantic and intense he was before falling asleep myself.
I fought the urge to hit the bathroom when I looked over to him in awe of his sexy profile. Seriously, no man should be this beautiful! ran through my mind. Thoughts of last night’s events started flashing through my brain, from seeing this place illuminated from the candles, to him climaxing behind me blurting out that I'm the best he's ever had on a feral cry. Out of nowhere, I became aroused wanting that same energy and matched passion from last night. I could never satisfy my need of Azmir, his hands, his mouth, his thirst for my needs.