He found my sweet spots

Warning: my ex really does not want to read this! Everyone else may or may not enjoy a little erotica.

We needed it: a comforting touch and sexual release so, we did 😉 That first kiss was seductive, searching and knowing; for maybe only the second time in my life, I felt outmatched and my heart fluttered in response to his inquisitive mouth and tongue. He had one hand holding down my hips and the other arm blocking any easy exit. My heartbeat was in my ears as he lowered some of his body weight onto me and any halfhearted resistance was met by insistence: his lips and tongue seeking and finding the places that make me moan and squirm. He knew where my buttons were and it didn’t take him long to redirect if he strayed off course: over and over he traced the spots that made me arch my back with need, pressing into his body and heating up where he wanted to be. There was no time to think, except to realize how fucking awesome he was at kissing and how clever his mouth and tongue were: simply the best. The places he found on my body that had been dormant the last seven years lit up like fireworks to a night sky, radiating out with heat and our clothes weren’t even off yet! His hands grazed my skin with a teasing touch as one slipped under my crocheted skirt and the other kept both my wrists above my head. With every kiss, lick and nip, I was moaning and twisting my body to remain in contact with and rub against his. The way his mouth probed my decollete, neck and clavicle sent shivers down my back and to another sweet spot below my waist; to not have to teach, show or describe what to do to make me scream, to let me abandon my head and heart for those hours: that is ecstasy.

In every way, he kept the pressure on me and everytime he suckled my skin, I got very close to orgasms. He allowed me space to maneuver my body so that my ass was pressed against his hard dick through our clothes (though we weren’t wearing much). The only time he let up was when *I* stopped him and grabbed his wrist; he knew I was vulnerable and if not gently, then patiently, guided his body between my legs. My half-pleas went unfounded as I felt his hand expertly slip behind my lace thong and his finger slide towards the source of wetness between my legs. Every lover is different, this I know and yet, there was a familiar feeling to his smooth operator technique. A desire to please completely, a need for the finite gentleness only someone who loves you and knows you can provide, a desire for vulnerability different from the one I was feeling and what he gave to me, I gave in return. I forget that my actual physical size doesn’t always match the ferocious tigress ready to spring when she’s been teased long enough. Still, I was stunned when I felt him push me onto my back and enter me in one fluid motion. What I had gauged to be a seven inch cock turned out to be 8.5 (probably closer to 9 when he was fully engorged) and I was going to be sore for a few days cause my body didn’t come equipped to handle really large lengths 😉 It’s funny how sexual rhythm is quickly established and it never really varies (unless you’re the really young and inexperienced or the very old) from partner to partner. My pelvic floor rising to meet his thrusts and when we tumbled to a position where I was the one on top, the reverse was true, too. I loved how he kept my long hair out of my/our face(s) by wrapping it around his fingers with the right amount of tension so, when kissing/biting my neck was the right thing to do to drive up my orgasms, it was painlessly done. His endurance was what I expected of him, it was the seductive mastery that was heart-stopping: like meeting myself.

Afterwards, when neither of us could move but regret was starting to cloud my head, he saw it, pulled me closer and asked, “So, was I better than your ex?” It was typical that he could read the fine nuisances of my face indicating sadness because I burst out laughing like some high school girl: he knows how to make me smile. He nuzzled my neck and softly asked, “Will you tell him? What will happen when you do? Will you go back to him?” I replied, “It’s over, we’re through and there’s no going back -”

Him: “Go easy on him. He’s still in love with you and he will be for a very long time.”

Me: “You’re supposed to be helping.”

Him: “I told you I’d help you keep your mind off him for whatever amount of time you need, didn’t I?”

Me: “I will wipe that smirk off your face for you!”

Him (truly ‘injured’): “No! Why would you do that to such a pretty face? That’s mean! Why are you getting dressed? Where you going?”

Me: “Home.”

Him: “Hell no, you’re not! You’re staying and sleeping over. I need my cuddles!”

Me (laughing): “If I really could, I would.”

Him (flipping me over): “Stay…”

Me: “I have to go – we both have work in a few hours.”

Him: “Don’t keep getting dressed! Cuddle with me until I fall asleep.”

Me (giving him a small kiss as I pull myself together): “You’re the boss whereas I have a child dependent on me showing up on time, as expected. Sorry, sweetie but another night.”

Him: “You’re mean!”

Me (as we walk to the door): “I know, but I’ll see you soon. Give me a hug.”