Sex revisited

"Method"

There is a way to do things. A method to fucking.

The lights are dimmed. The mood is unsettling before the eyes adjust to the darkness -- the two figures look like animals foraging in the night. She lies exposed on her back. He hunches over her sex. He throws one leg over his shoulder and plies the other apart, down against the bed. He breathes in the scent of her mound. It is intoxicating, increasing his aroused state. He leans in to kiss her moist lips. He tongues her cunt as he would her mouth: probing, tasting. He is surprised at how delicate and smooth she is, like the inside of his cheek. The oral sex whets his appetite. He salivates in heightened anticipation.

He puts a finger in her hole. He knows this is as far as she's ever let a man penetrate her. Perhaps in the back of a car one drunken adolescent night. He strokes her insides while lapping at her clit. He feels the legs around his ears tense up. He imagines her expression: flushed cheeks, half closed eyelids, and full lips swollen from his kisses. It's pornographic. The thought of her sweet face, the taste of salt on his tongue, and the sound of her moans vibrating through her body trigger a vicious cycle of arousal. He roughly plunges in a second finger. Her tight hole does not give in easily. He's so turned on he is becoming impatient.

"You have to relax," he murmurs. He kisses the soft curve of her belly.

"Okay," she says breathlessly.

He gives her head until she's good and wet.

He pulls away from the edge of the bed and stands tall, erection apparent. She follows suit and stands in front of him awkwardly maintaining some distance. He pulls her against him. Holding the nape of her neck, he gives her another punishing kiss. He then places a hand on her shoulder. With slight pressure, he guides her to the floor on her knees. Unsure, she waits for direction blushing at the sight of the buoyant cock. He has the sudden urge to smack her across the face with it to see her surprise and embarrassment, just for the hell of it to get a reaction out of her. But taking that much liberty with his new bride is still a little beyond his level of comfort.

"Grip the base with your hand."

She hesitantly reaches out. Her soft, warm hand flutters over and holds him weakly. He clenches his jaw at her caress too gentle to be satisfying yet it is enough to make him crazy with lust.

"Hold it tight. It feels better that way," he says, " and pump it with your fist."

He envelopes her grip with his large hand and strokes himself brusquely to demonstrate, then releases her. She continues to masturbate him as directed.

"Now lick the tip."

She opens her mouth and tastes him. His nostrils flare with pleasure. He closes his eyes to savor the feeling.

"Put as much of me in your mouth as you can."

She does and as a reflex gently sucks him. There is little more in the world that feels as good as her small tongue on his shaft. He moans again resisting the urge to grab her jaw and fuck her skull without mercy. He lets her suck him off a while longer before stopping her. One day he will cum down her throat. Another day.

"Lie down on the bed."

She rises to her feet wiping the spit and pre-cum off her lips with the back of her hand. He drew in the vision of her: the long, dark hair framing her face, her heavy breasts punctuated by two taut nipples, the deep curve of her waist, and so on. She sits on the bed then lies back into the sheets and pillows. She holds herself, arms tight against her body. She scoots back, legs clenched tight. He wonders if she knows how defensive her body language is and how it makes him angry. He climbs on top of her, pulls her arms away exposing her full chest. He then pushes her legs apart, positioning himself in between. She starts breathing hard, nervously. He is mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts. Greedily, he puts one in his mouth, then the other. Blood rushes between his legs. He is rock hard. He can't wait any longer.

He shifts his weight onto one arm. He uses his free hand to position himself at the entrance of her tight cunt. He leans in. She gasps sharply in pain.

"Wait!"

He gives her a few moments to adjust to his largess.

"Okay," she says.

She feels like heaven.

He holds her hip firmly at the place where the swell of her ass and pelvic bone meet. The perfect grip for real fucking. He pulls out of her then pushes back to the hilt. He lifts her legs, wrapping them around his torso for better access and thrusts again and again... He groans. The build up is torture, the build up is sweet. Her insides reject and accept him, pushing and pulling at his member. Her thighs clamp his sides tightly as if to push him away while locking him in place. An incomprehensible pleasure. He kisses her deeply, ramming his full weight against her.

"Why do you feel so good?" He grunts in her ear accusingly. It pisses him off how much he needs her. He wants her soft, reserved pants to turn to screams of his name be it "Stop, _____, stop!" or "Don't stop, ____!" He wants the affirmation. He is alive.

"Ah!" She tenses up, arches her back, squirming away from his thrusts in climax. He prevents her from escape, holding her tightly against him. The act raises the intensity of her orgasm. She goes limp. He pulls back her mussed up hair, licks the side of her face. He drags his tongue down her body, kisses her breast then puts a hand around her neck (not too tightly and frighten her.) He grunts his own release. He empties several hot streams into her. Satisfied he collapses onto her body, barely conscious enough to distribute his weight so as not to crush her small frame.

Then, sleep.

The kind only awarded to kings, full of narcotic dreams of conquest.

*******

For now this is a PWP. But I plan on fleshing out the characters maybe. I am interested in the recurring (almost cliched) sex scenes & the psychology of those involved. - Atlas