It’s one of the quiet times, when I see a furrow between your eyes or a stare held too long on something intangible. It is as if you’ve paused yourself, or the noise has grown so loud it doesn’t break into a storm but freezes everything instead. I sense a little friction in you, a kind of contradiction where the body says one thing and the mind another.
Imagine this, if you will, as a movie scene, captured in a single, uninterrupted shot.
I pull you close and hold you as I try to find your energy and let your breath catch up to mine. I slow myself enough for our heartbeats to sync while my arms wrap tightly around you. I’m fortunate to have broad shoulders and long arms, and I pull you into a full-body hug.
Only once you settle into my rhythm and my breath, heartbeat to heartbeat, do I ease you forward into rest rather than letting you go. I watch those hazel eyes of yours settle again, no longer sharp with flecks of gold or faint green, and not yet darkened by rising storms, but softened into that quieter hazel I’ve learned to recognize as you finding your balance.
Only then do I brush your hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. My fingers trace the curve of it before my palm settles at your jaw. When I pull you back in, I kiss you.
In that pull, the kiss isn’t rushed or demanding. It begins as a light brush, meant to test whether you’ve settled. Your breath turns warm against my lips as you lean into the palm at your jaw, and that small movement is the answer. Only then does the kiss gather its own quiet confidence.
And then, your shoulders soften, your body eases into mine, and I feel that small shift. It’s the moment you stop bracing and let yourself be kissed. It’s when you allow yourself to be held, and let the moment move through you in its own reassuring way.
Nakedness comes easily for us. It feels natural, like a second language. The heat of each other’s skin doesn’t necessarily mean full-bloom want, at least not in the way we’ve grown used to with each other.
I sit on the bed and prop myself against the headboard as I invite you to take my hand and settle between my legs. You lean back against me, your back warm and bare against my chest.
My hand finds your jaw again, and I pull you in for another kiss. You rest your head against my shoulder.
When we let go of the kiss, I lower my mouth to your ear and whisper how much I love you. I tell you how breathtaking I find you.
“You’re gorgeous,” I remind you.
You turn your head just enough to find my mouth again and kiss me with that slow, searching need. Your arms reach back as you try to wrap around me, as if anchoring yourself to something steady.
My hands move over you with open palms and grazing fingers. I trace the shape of you along your arms, over the contours of your ribs, and across the smoothness of your belly.
You feel me hardening against the crack of your ass and notice how my breath deepens as it matches yours.
When my hands come up to cup your breasts, it is reverence, still me holding you. I let my fingers brush your nipples in soft circles at first, coaxing and teasing until the softness gives way to a firmer grip. I squeeze gradually, enough to make your breath catch and your spine press a little deeper into my chest.
“I love the shape of you,” I whisper.
I listen for the sounds you make.
My hands drift lower, not shy about where they’re going. I find the shape of your thighs, warm and trusting beneath my palms, and linger there long enough for you to feel the intention.
I shift just enough to make space and let you know where we’re headed, and you answer by letting yourself open. Your legs hook around mine and draw me closer until we settle there together, your back held fully to my chest and your body molding against the brace of mine.
You fit there easily. My thighs frame yours as your weight rests back into me, held and steady. You don’t need to hold yourself together on your own.
I kiss you again.
My palms press to the soft of your stomach before I push down. I feel the tremor inside your thighs. I slide my hand lower, and you notice how my voice hitches when I find how wet you already are. I feel how consumed I am by your heat and by the pulse you can’t hide.
I let two fingers slide through your slick and draw want from you. I pull up and circle the shape of your clit before gliding down again, where I find you parted for me. You’re waiting for it, wanting it.
“Please,” you whimper.
My outer fingers trace the softness of you, holding your shape. The middle two stay closer, following the heat of you.
I can’t promise much gentleness. You already know this, and you want me to press inside you.
But I won’t do that yet.
I collect your wet and smear your cunt in your own need before drifting lower to find your tight, puckered hole.
You tighten. I feel it in the way your spine cracks slightly and how you press against me while still holding tension. I hear it in the way you whimper.
“Oh…fuck…”
You’re wet enough that friction feels like a lie, and with your own glide I rub your hole slowly and softly as the ache builds. When I slide a finger inside your tightness, you give in fully and draw a deep breath.
“Oh my God,” you breathe.
I feel how you relax against me, how you push toward my finger, and how you moan when I press another finger into you.
“Lift yourself,” I whisper, and you do, on instinct or want alone, as my fingers slip out of you.
My cock is throbbing, and I don’t need to move much for it to align. Its needy head seeks the sudden softness of your body.
But I let it slide between your heat and let you coat me in your leaking lust. I grin at how fucking wet you get and how my cock drips from you.
I adjust again and press my cock against your virgin ring. There’s not much resistance. You gasp, but not from pain. It’s the voice in your head.
The fuck you doing to me?
I let you sink down in your own tempo. You’re not breathing, but your heart is thumping through your ribs and straight into mine. My body adjusts and catches your rhythm. You’re so tight, but not tense. You feel liquid against my chest as your lips find mine again, your eyes wide, as if you’re not sure it’s really happening.
I moan into your mouth, trapped by my own lust for you and the temptation to thrust and stuff your ass full of me.
But I let you settle completely, my cock lodged as deep as I’ll go.
“God,” you moan. “I’m so stretched. So…full.”
I pull you back against my chest when you expect me to fuck you.
But I won’t fuck you. I let you settle and close tight around the base of me. I wait for your heartbeat to fall and your breath to steady.
Only then do I let my thumb find your clit and circle slowly and surely. I want you to feel as if your clit is coming undone from my touch alone. Your hips begin to roll to meet my hand, and you realize you’re riding my cock from a place you never have before. When your breath hitches, I slide a finger inside your cunt.
I listen to the moans you make, sounds that could be mistaken for crying softly in the night. I listen to the slick slide of my fingers moving in and out of you.
I whisper, “Jesus fucking Christ, babe,” as you tighten.
My other hand comes to your clit, intent now on rubbing out the first tremors as I press another finger inside you. I’m not tracing your heat anymore. I’m fucking you.
With your ass packed full and your cunt bleeding need, I chase your tremors and your breath. I feel the way you tighten around me and shake against my chest as you struggle to breathe and hold on. All I’m doing is learning exactly how you fall apart for me.
I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you tell me you’re cumming.
When you do, I hold you through it. I feel how your ass clenches tight around my cock and how I could easily cum just from your orgasm riding through our bodies. Your thighs tighten around my hand and trap me inside you until every tremor subsides, and your cunt gushes and coats me in release.
I hold you when you whimper, “Oh my God,” and when your legs don’t obey you and every small shift triggers another tremor. I keep holding you until the pulse in your wet cunt steadies.
“Good girl,” I breathe against the skin of your neck as I half-pull my cock out and half-push you off me, listening to the soft plop of your ass as I slide free.
I throb with need, the need for you. I want to fuck your sweet, dripping cunt and pump every drop of my need into you.
I flip you over with your head pressed to the mattress and your ass high, my hands gripping the soft of you as I pull you back onto my cock.
I promise to fuck you open until every itch of uncertainty, every flicker of irritation, and every hint of annoyance finally unravels. I love it when you cum on my cock, when your voice hitches and tightens and your sounds come out choked before turning guttural and finally loud.
You know the word that unravels me when you call me daddy.
“Please, daddy… cum inside me.”
I can’t hold back. You unravel me, babe, and I cum for you.
I cum so hard.
So much.
For you.
***
Thank you so much for reading. I hope my story found you well. If it did, leave a like. Leave a comment.
-doused.
