Dipping her head, she pressed her tongue against the base of his encased cock and rasped slowly along the shaft. She circled the tip then sucked greedily as if devouring a favourite sticky lolly. Lifting her chin, she flicked her tongue over full red lips, then dived again. Her raven curls tumbled over tanned, bare shoulders and buxom breasts knocked together while she licked and slurped.
Pausing, she caressed the silky mesh stretched taut across his thickened shaft then doodled circles, watching his cock twitch inside the black nylon. The musky aroma of pre-cum teased her nostrils, mixing with the tang of sweat and zest of the cinnamon spice candles flickering on the nightstand. A potent brew. Shuddering, she inhaled deeply: held it, savoured it.
She exhaled through plump puckered lips. Then, shaking out her hair, she watched him watching her. His gaze followed every movement and his eyes, dark as the night, pleaded for more. His hips writhed slowly, rhythmically, the nylon pantyhose flexing like a second skin. He mouthed please and touched her face, his lips curving into a smile when she kissed his fingers. He uttered a gratifying groan as she returned to sucking his cock.
She carefully lifted his shaft, stretching the pantyhose. Encircling his engorged tip with hungry lips, she sucked as hard as she dared. She wanted to nibble – wanted to rip open the nylon mesh and devour him. But his instructions were clear: no snags, no tears.
Keeping control, she pushed her tongue hard against the black nylon. His thickened cock throbbed and pre-cum seeped through the casing. She sucked at the dampness, relishing the flavour while he pulsed hot against her lips. Scarcely breathing, she closed her teeth carefully around him, gripping him gently but firmly. She waited. Did he trust her? He made no protest – but mistrusting herself, she released him.
Changing tactic, she fondled his balls through the reinforced gusset. His hips undulated with increasing speed and his head flopped to one side, face distorted into a clown-like grimace. He clawed the bedsheets with clammy hands, murmuring, “I’m close,” through gritted teeth.
She let go. “Not yet,” she whispered. “I want to play.” Gazing at his face, she blew warm breath over his cockhead. He trembled, moaned, but she touched a finger to his lips, “Shh… relax.” She blew again; angel breaths dancing over the damp nylon.
Shifting position, she exhaled across his abdomen, stirring the fine hairs trapped in the mesh. She watched, fascinated, as the dark hairs on his arms rose in sympathy and shivers coursed through him. On a whim, she lightly kissed his belly button. He shuddered as if electrified. Amused, she planted tiny kisses all over his abdomen. Then she kissed his thighs and all around his pulsing erection.
“Suck me,” he begged.
“Patience.”
She slid her hands beneath his buttocks, gently kneading the firm flesh in its nylon casing. She leaned closer… closer… He groaned and, feeling his cock touch her lips, she sat up. She clicked her tongue at him then flicked back her hair and straightened her spine. Reaching sideways, she grasped a goblet and slowly sipped wine while watching his ragged breathing dislodge sweat droplets from his smooth skin.
“God, you’re a tease,” he muttered, but the smirk on his face betrayed his pleasure.
“Shh… Dry mouth from the nylon.”
Replacing her glass, she scooped his hands in hers and placed them palms up by his side. She stroked his forearms, circling her fingertips and tracing the blue network of veins. Then she placed both her hands on his cock. She watched him hold his breath. Smugly, she waited – waited until he lifted his head, brow furrowed.
A broad grin creased her pretty face and, slinking snakelike, she brushed her tits over his thighs. The nylon, coarser than skin, tickled her nipples in a surprisingly arousing way. Loving the sensation, she rubbed harder. He sighed longingly – music to her ears – and she moaned like him when rough palms fondled her breasts. He squeezed and rubbed her nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb, skilfully teasing. His hips gyrated beneath her and a deep groan rumbled in his throat.
“More,” he pleaded.
She arched gracefully over his midriff, breasts hanging down like grapefruits ripe for picking. Sinking toward him, she allowed him to squeeze them together, encasing his shrouded cock. He bucked into the soft channel, his moans louder, urgent. She let him play. The moans vibrated through her, heating her core and his aroma sparked the touch paper, lighting the fuse that would ultimately ignite her orgasm.
But she wanted a slow-burn. Slow and sweet. Again, she pulled away.
“No!” He wiped the sweat bejewelling his brow and moistened his lips. His chest rose and fell rapidly; his cock strained against the nylon. “Please…”
Ignoring him, she plucked up her wine glass. The warming liquid trickled down her throat while she studied his pained expression. Or was it pleasure? His gaze found hers but he didn’t smile. He continued moving his hips to the rhythmic beat of needy lust. Taking pity, she gulped her wine then gently stroked his thighs and hips. So silky, so soft. She traced the waistband of his pantyhose then trailed fingertips over his cock. Dipping her head, she kissed it. Then lifting his thick shaft with both hands, she closed her right hand around it one finger at a time.
“Careful,” he muttered, raising his head.
“I won’t spoil them,” she said softly. “I’ll take care.”
His protectiveness amused her. Amused and aroused her. What pleasured him pleasured her. Gripping him, she licked his cockhead, swirling her tongue over and around it. Then she lapped along his shaft toward his shaven ball sac. She sucked his crinkled flesh through the mesh, kissing and nuzzling. Then she nibbled the nylon, testing his faith. He tensed. His grinding hips came to a halt, hands lifted off the bed. But he said nothing. His hands dropped.
Teasing no more, she continued licking and kissing until his soft moans resumed their concerto and his thrusts bumped against her lips. A sudden needy ache made her quiver. Her pussy contracted and she knew the fuse was burning low. She slid a finger over her slit and, finding it wet, held it up high. Her juices glistened in the candlelight.
“Dirty bitch,” he said when she popped the finger into her mouth. His erection fought against the nylon and his hips rose and fell as if pulled by a puppeteer. “Finish me, please.”
His need aroused her: the pain in his voice, his squirming body, the odour of sex. She flipped a lean, tanned leg over his torso and straddled him in reverse cowgirl. Grasping the silk sheets, she threw back her locks and rode him wildly. A trail of her juices, iridescent in the candlelight, coated the pantyhose as she ground against him. She frantically rubbed her burning clit, moaning as he bucked and writhed beneath her.
The fuse ran out. Closing her eyes, she fisted the bedsheets and arched her back. Her head spun and her thoughts, a fuzzy blanket of bliss, emerged from her mouth as a series of groans. Her pussy contracted and an explosion of breathtaking twinges preceded greedy sucking. Denied penetration, she ground down on his crotch, rubbing that interminable itch.
Deliciously slowly, the spasms subsided. Panting and light-headed, she opened her eyes to see his toes curling inside the black nylon, his toenails clawing at the re-enforced ends. He grunted and tensed, then grasped her hips, fingertips digging into her flesh. The powerful scent of cum invaded her nostrils as he thrust hard against her dripping pussy. He bucked fiercely, grunted, then let out a long, satisfied moan.
She felt him judder then watched his toes uncurl while his muscles relaxed. Gasps became sighs and his breathing slowed. All quiet, she dismounted and nestled by his side. She rested for a moment, caressing his stomach, and then placed a lingering kiss on his deflating cock.
“Shall I?” she asked, slipping fingers under the waistband of pantyhose wet and pungent with cum.
He shook his head. “Leave them.”
“You don’t want me to—”
“Leave them be, please.”
“Okay.”
“What?” he asked, seeing amusement flicker in her eyes.
She shook her head and, hiding her smile, wriggled onto her belly. She draped an arm over his thighs and stroked the soiled mesh. Then she began to clean him. She licked cum from the silky pantyhose and sucked his cock, absorbing his juices through the nylon. She worked methodically – shaft, tip, crotch then abdomen; lapping up as much cum as she could and swallowing greedily.
Satisfied, she licked her full lips then slithered up his smooth, naked torso. She nuzzled into his neck and murmured, “Is that okay? Did I do what you wanted?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
She curled against him, head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat – fast and strong. His breathing was shallow once more, his body tense. She raised her head. He was smiling – a broad grin that creased his brow and crinkled the corners of his eyes. And those eyes were alive.
“All that sucking,” he said, “has had consequences.”
“Has it?”
“Didn’t you notice? Might need a bit of work, but…”
Curious, she slid her hand to his crotch. His growth throbbed beneath the damp pantyhose. Her pussy throbbed, too. “Well, well…” she said, smirking. Holding his gaze, she stroked his thighs. Then, grasping them, she slipped down his body and pressed her tongue against the base of his encased cock. Her eyes glinted as she rasped slowly along the shaft.
