He flexed automatically, pushing himself into me and another delicious shiver ran down the entire length of my body.
He rolled gently so I was on my back, and he was hovering over me.
“You still want to go slow?”
I nodded, stifling a chuckle.
He smiled reluctantly. “Okay, I’ll try.”
He slid down the bed and used his teeth to pull my T-shirt up off my stomach. He ran his nose across my body and kissed me slowly on every exposed inch of skin while he supported himself on his arms.
I ran my fingers over the front of his briefs and he groaned.
“I won’t be able to go slow if you do that again,” he said in a warning voice.
I laughed quietly, unsure whether or not I wanted his slow, delicious torture to continue.
“I want to get this T-shirt off you.”
I sat up briefly so he could pull it over my head. When I lay down again, he nuzzled my breasts, running the tip of his tongue along the junction between my skin and the fabric of my bra.
I stroked my hands over the bunched muscles of his biceps, luxuriating in their tension.
Carefully he fastened his teeth over the fabric of my bra and pulled the cup down, then ran his tongue over my nipple, sucking hard. The sensation was exquisite, almost painful.
I pushed the waistband of his briefs over and down his hips. He rolled off me to kick them free and I sat up to undo my bra.
“No, I’ll do that,” he said confidently.
For several seconds he tugged futilely on the elastic straps. “Fuck! Turn around – I can’t see what I’m doing.”
Smiling to myself, I turned my back to him. A heartbeat later, my bra was dumped on the floor and I shimmied out of my panties, tossing them down with the rest of our clothes.
“How slow?” he whispered as his body loomed over mine again, lightly pressing me into the mattress.
“How slow can you go?” I said, teasingly.
I pulled my knees up and slid my hand along his erection. He trembled and bit his lip.
“You’re not helping!” he said, accusingly.
But I didn’t care anymore: I wanted to feel him inside me – all of him.
I pulled him towards me and I felt the mattress move as his weight shifted on the bed. He used his knees to open me wider, then, with aching slowness, he sank into me, pulled out, then sank in again, circling his hips, stimulating me everywhere.
I tilted my hips up to meet him: the movement seemed to push him too far.
“I can’t! I can’t!” he suddenly gasped and started moving faster.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and gripped his arms with my hands.
His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and I felt his body turn rigid then he collapsed onto me with a soft moan.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into my neck a long moment later.
I stroked his hair, smiling to myself. “It’s okay. Practice makes perfect. And we’ve got all night.”
He raised himself up and kissed me softly and sweetly. Then he pulled out gently and rolled off of me.
“Oh, wow!” he said, looking down at the blood on his dick. “That really didn’t hurt you?”
I shook my head, suppressing a smile. “Do you want to take a shower?”
“Um, yeah, if you don’t mind.”
He looked stunned.
“I don’t mind: not if you let me scrub your back.”
He grinned and looked up at me. “Oh, definitely up for that.”
I turned on the hot water and led him into the shower.
“Did you have a long day at the office, dear?” I said as I ran a soapy sponge over his back.
He chuckled, stretching out his arms.
“God, that feels so good!” he sighed.
He rested his hands on the tiled wall and let the water rain down on his head and back. When I reached around and ran the sponge over his front he jumped slightly. Gently, I swirled the sponge over his stomach and thighs and everything in between; he groaned loudly.
I felt his erection stir again. I guessed that’s what they called a fast re-loader. I was impressed – and a bit shocked.
He turned around and kissed me hard, his tongue demanding access to my mouth. He pushed me back against the chilly ceramic tiles and I almost slipped.