Ripe

I look up into sorrowful, chocolate-brown pools. My lover the stonemason, who’s hands have carved a thousand tombstones and who looks as though he holds night time inside the silence of his eyes. His hands are scarred too, rough and lovely. They pass over my skin, annotating the geography of my body, my curves, crevices and fleshy mistakes. I writhe beneath him, feverish with lust. His cock thrusts in me, rigid, turgid. Dilated pupils shine from within a hard, closed face. Even whilst he pushes blissfully into my softness in age-old intimacy, I cannot reach him. My complex lover empties his hot breath onto my neck, making me squirm. I am impaled on a length of sweetness, wanting him to burst open. I haven’t a hope. He inhales, spreading a contrasting coolness onto my nape. His thudding, Ataşehir escort impressive rod continues deliciously stretching me. I am meringue, cracking delicately under the weight of his demanding pace. Despite his impossible proximity, my mysterious fuck puppet fails to yield. “I want you.” I whisper, hoping to slide under his cool resolve. Brown eyes bore through me, their heavy lids fringed with long, dark lashes. His full mouth drops open, revealing a gap in his front teeth. His tanned arms extend either side of my torso. He shifts his gaze to the liquid weight of my large breasts. Flattened beneath him, my rounded flesh sways with our movements. I cup his ass cheeks, willing him to push more cock inside me. I want him to break. He dips Ümraniye escort bayan his head and traps a nipple, bites, sucks and lets it pop free. My breath comes out in a whimper. My bruised, wet skin is puckered, ruby red. The rest of my breast feels hot and tight. His cheeks are flushed. Speared beneath him, constantly re-coating his cock meat with my slickness, every nerve ending attuned to our movements, I note with satisfaction as a fraction of his composure slips. I reach out and stroke his face. My clot strains to be part of the action. I hitch my legs up higher, part my thighs wider. “I want you.” I am dizzy, panting. The old bed creaks as he pounds. The mattress springs push into my back, forming an uneven pattern. I don’t care. Escort Bostancı I shift my hips to meet his. I wish I knew him well enough to ask for a pillow, I want to push our pelvic bones together, I want him harder, deeper. I want to dissolve into his cock. I don’t say anything, loathe to speak lest our sweet spell crumbles. “Urnghh.” My mouth betrays me with a groan of pleasure. His lips curl briefly in a smile. A spark of appreciation crosses his beautiful, impassive face. My pussy is sopping, juices run, escaping my cock hole, pussy cream leaking into my ass crack, delicately tickling my passage. I quiver. His mouth descends on mine, distracting me with hot, placatory fullness. I am drowning in slick heat. He smells of wood shavings, sorrow and silence. Between us the faint musky scent of surrender grows. I wriggle and roll with my hips. “That’s…” The springs beneath us sing with our movements. “Soo…” All I can see are his lips. He wets them. I stretch my arms, pulling him down to feast on his sticky saliva amid the click of our eager teeth. “…good.” My words are fractured.