Friday, February 14, 2014

Papi and Baby

He bit into my shoulder. I'm really normally not into being bitten, any sign of pain really other than the necessary, but when my papi tap tap taps at my window in the dark of night, I am his.

I bit my lip to avert my own attention and pushed back, grinding my ass, spreading my cheeks and taking the rest of his cock until his black, long pubes were pressed, flat against my ass. We both sighed. In sync, like we had been and would be all night, we sighed.

For whatever reason I had learned on his fourth visit, how I preferred it: me on the bed on hands and knees, my toes pointed up, causing me to resemble a sort of affirming check symbol, while he hunched over, between my legs, an arm around my chest or stomach, the other steadying himself on the bed face nuzzling into my neck. He gave no complaints.

He enjoyed watching my sinewy back slowly rock the length of his cock, and enjoyed even more when I turned and looked back over my shoulder at him. The range of motion the position afforded me was another perk to him and when I decided to move my knees up and under me, straighten my torso and commence riding in a slow, sensual form, he loved it. His body would follow, elbows bending so that he clutched me tight around my chest, his own back straightening, making a lap in which I could dance, his tongue and teeth lurching forward to probe and nibble on my ear. We were indeed, in sync.

So in sync that words weren't needed. From the tapping on the window, to his entry and the mere seconds we would stand, eyes riveted on each other before we fell lustily and hungrily into one another's embrace, we were silent. Yes, I would moan when he craned his head to take a nipple into his mouth, whimper when his teeth met flesh and sigh when I'd taken it all but no audible words escaped my lips. Amidst my thrashing as his tongue licked and suckled below my waist, my writhing during those infrequent spurts that he held me down and teased me with his head, and my arching as he worked me over with his finger, I was silent.

Well, there was one word: baby. It was he that would let it escape his lips while my tongue traced the outline of his corona, he that would moan it when my carnal nature got the better of me and the speed quickened from love to sex and he that would expel it once he'd cupped a thigh in each hand and hammered his way through to dropping the load we both eagerly desired; that was all him.

My papi.