The Great Curve

Divine, to define, she is moving to define, so say so, so say so…

I met him about a year ago.
The first photo he sent me of his cock depicted the delineation of that great curve behind the fabric of his boxers, it made my pussy willow skip a beat and my breath grow heavy. The curve was also accentuated by a streamline that ran the length of his shaft. In this image he was heavy and hard, but no where near full erection.

He made me take my time–
“it can be fun to go slow.”

It was not until months later that I got my glimpse of his curve, a curve that strained, so hard that it appeared to be glued to his belly, tip to balls with a divine low arch between. The arch that would soon be sinking into all of my openings in all the right ways.

This night I work food and seduction. Dinner–Mid-eastern, Moroccan rice, lamb meatballs w/lemon tahini, citrus infused white wine, dessert, pecan scone with honey. My dessert–curve with honey. I like cooking for a man, it reminds me of those dreams I used to have of domesticity. I like to be in the kitchen for an appreciative cock.

Coming into the kitchen, as I stand at the sink, your hands cup around my body, feeling my form–my curves, full lips on the back of my neck. My eyes slit and my ass, from signals inside my thumping pussy, begin to strain out to find you cock. A slow kitchen grind finds you a heavy and solid man. The spread of your palm explores my rounds of flesh, our clothing trying to contain all that wants to be free. Hiking my skirt over my cheeks, I look back over my shoulder to see you in deep examination of my ass and panties covering my landscape, a simple navy sheer net like fabric, you fingers run across the material, causing the skin to rise and shivers to ignite tiny explosions all over my body.  Your hand begins to slip into my junction between, discovering my smooth full lips–easily detectable through the fabric. Leaning in, your fingers all there, the words whisper-
“your wet already.”

Answering with a shrug and a smile…

“pour us some wine.”

Dinner is delicious fresh, filling, but not too filling. The wine light–slightly heady. Standing to clear the table, you pull me back to your lap.
“Did you like it, are you still hungry, I have dessert?”
Non verbal cues lead the way…
A kiss for the books, warm, soft, wet and taste like wine and spice. My hands explore the man. Sliding from your lap, I drop to my knees–between your thighs I be. I run my cheeks, my face, my lips down the length of your body to your curve–feeling it grow and strain in your pants. My hands determine the strength of your thighs, I long to be taken, while wanting to take at the same time.

My breath is hot as I continue to make you hard, straining now for a release.

I rise up bringing my body into yours running my breast into your rising beaming, ascertaining how it could fit between, again I run my tongue along the fly of your pants–caressing the curve with tongue, but with the barrier of the confines of clothing. Still on my knees I raise my skirt up past my ass, crawling from kitchen to living room as you sit and watch, looking back I see your hand on your cock– still tucked away. I love that view, and you this view. You finally decide to follow me into the other room, I’m waiting on my knees for you. Rising to meet your standing body, your blazing cock. It needs to be set free. Again I run my cheek to it, feeling my way along the length, my lips wrapping around meat and fabric. I undo your belt, you watch, I undo the button, the zipper, then drop them down. With a spring load your cock burst forth, but not out of their boxers that still hide my prize. Lusty sighs escape my lips, I must have you now. For the first time, my hands feel you, feel the curve that is soon to be realized.

A droplet of pre-fluid is being absorbed into the material of your boxers. Looking up I ask–
“is that for me?”

Not able to refrain any longer, I lick one more time across the fabric barrier that is keeping me from you, then I must have the full flesh, I must know, see, feel and fuck that curve.

My tongue glides along your slit, tasting the drips that have formed, just like the honey I imagined it would be. Slow circle around your crown, my eyes from yours, back to your cock. A long hungry lick from base to tip.  I need it. I drop my lips over the tip, opening more, jaw relaxing, I drop and your curve fills my mouth. Relaxed from the wine and the cock–I stay there dropped around your beam, open yet with a firm wrap– you finally begin to thrust into me, your curve at long last fucking this mouth. A small quiet sigh of release escapes your breath. My pussy thumps and aches in agreement.

Everything about the night is slow, there are bouts of fast fucking, of legs splayed and spread, held down, pounded, but all somehow long hard and slow. I come in lengthy drawn out battles of the push and pull between the mind and the cunt, and I come again and again. Standing at the side of my bed, curve filling me, the slow hit on that perfect spot–just right from this position-my legs glued together like one, resting on one side of your shoulder.

“Can I cum in you?”
I nod.

Pulling my ass closer in,  you thrust and plunge– immersed as deep as possible into my core, waves of pain pleasure stream through, you blast, bringing forth everything out of you into me–pulling me in closer, bodies electric remain until the sparks and tensions die down inside.

When you pull out, your cock is wet, your curve–heavy and still.

(This is an entry for the group post put together by Kimberly, the Errant Wife. The topic, “Curve.” Go check out what others have to say about “great curve.”)

Lilly,Gray, Aurore,Petal,Salt and Pepper,Britni, Amy Liz,Mr B,Dave,Autumn,Panser Bjørne,Bri,Ms. Scarlett,Lolita Vida,FG Sakes, Hubman,Barefoot Dreamer,Topaz,Duchess,Kimberly,