I haven’t written a story with a commenter in mind for a while. For a person who intrigues me and makes my temperature spike (do you know it’s for you?). No editing here, this is purely for my enjoyment.
“You have me here, now what are you going to do with me?”
I mentioned I’m shy sometimes, that I don’t show everything unless you’re right there with me. Of course you take my reluctance as a challenge. You want to overcome my barriers, corrupt whatever innocence you see inside of me, and turn me into a bitch in heat. You never said it in so many words, but I read it in your body language, in the things you didn’t say. Pictures aren’t enough sometimes. Actions, real bodies say it so much louder.
“Well, Cara? How do you want me?”
Your relaxed posture, your smirk, that knowing twinkle in your eye. I see it all and for a moment I want to conquer you. Maybe then you’ll see I’m not as tame as you believe. I’m a tigress sometimes and you’re a piece of meat I have to taste.
“Take off your clothes.” I don’t even recognize my voice. The husky, hungry tone isn’t normal, but you’ve awakened something hot with your presence there in my house.
“No,” you say, your eyes going dark. “You want me, you take me exactly how you need to. Show me.”
Another challenge, a demand to bust out of my self-imposed restrictions. Will I be the vixen for you? Yes, for you I would.
You stand there, a silent rock as I peel the dress shirt from your body. My lips touch warm skin, trailing from the column of your neck, over the jut of your collarbone, from one pebbled nipple to the next, and down the muscles of your stomach to band of your pants. I let my tongue paint along that line of skin before undoing your restraints and releasing the length of you. You’ll fill my mouth perfectly and it waters anticipating your taste. But I want to tease you first.
The whisper of my breath on the head of your cock elicits the most erotic groan from you. My hand creeps up my thigh, down the inside of my panties, and in between my pussy lips. I tease us both then. The swirl of my tongue around your weeping head, the dip of my fingers between my thighs, my mouth suctioning as I engulf you, the circle of my thumb over my engorged clit.
Your hands guide me then, clenching tight in my hair as your control wavers. I glory in the pleasure-pain of servicing you, of working to taste your essence on my tongue.
“Come,” you grunt out as you thrust harder into my mouth. “I want you to come with my cock down your throat.”
My fingers work faster, desperate to match your rhythm so I could obey your command. Your hips snapped forward, sending you deep and cutting off my breath. A protracted groan falls from you as you shoot off, the warm jet of your come forcing me to swallow hard around you.
“Come.”
The way you hold me and grit out that word makes me fly apart. I moan, pumping wildly against my fingers, coming so hard I could black out.
You have me so strung out, so hooked to the way you feel in me, I know I’ll bend over for you like the bitch in heat you know I am. I’d be a bad girl for you any day.
I look up the moment you release me. Holding your lust clouded gaze did something crazy to my body. You do crazy things to my body making you that thing I could become addicted to.