I sat down at my open laptop and set my steaming cup of coffee next to me. I was so ready to write up this article, and now I feel...distracted. I pick up my phone and start scrolling through six-second dance videos. The musicality takes me further from my original task and I stand to stretch. I love to dance, to really feel myself in my body.
Forward fold, halfway lift, forward fold, chair pose. Repeat.
My hamstrings start to loosen as I continue my sequence. The soft music playing seems to get louder as I attempt to focus on the guitar, rather than the frequency of my increased breathing.
In, out, ribs together, push further.
I ache for the challenge. I need something else to hit.
My brow is furrowing as I become completely engrossed in a lunge. Still and focused, I don't hear the soft click of the patio door.
I switch from the lunge to a warrior pose, quads and hips straining, when I make eye contact with John. He's just stepped off of the porch, still in his pajamas. He's sleepy, hair haphazard, his own coffee's aroma now filling the space. He sets it next to mine and comes to stand in front of me.
His hands are big and familiar as he places both hands at my waist. We deftly maneuver into a couple's pose, my legs wrapped around his waist as I stretch backwards and he sumo-squats. It isn't so sexy as it is intimate. I feel his heartbeat catch up to mine from our contact point - my groin to his belly. He smells like mahogany teakwood and toothpaste, and his morning excitement is impossible to ignore.
I curl back up so that our faces meet. 'Good morning.' I let my eyes soak up his face, cheeks, lips, the thick unmanageable brows. His lashes flutter a bit as he smiles and replies, Good morning.
Our first words are like a match to a gasoline spill. Our mouths meet ravenously, lips moulding in and over the other's. Our teeth manage to avoid the entanglement and the saliva is minimal. The breath is hot, darting back and forth. Dipping, tasting my tongue to fly back to him.
'Fuck, John,' I moan, still impressed by his ability to light me up with just his mouth. Too bad I want more of that mouth, and I want it now. I have work to get back to. My laptop screen seems brighter and more urgent for a semi-second.
John doesn't allow me to forget that he is right there, and as ready as I am. My feet hit the ground and he clutches me to him. Pushes into my mouth and body so hard that I think I might fall. His steadfast grip on my ass keeps me upright. Good thing, because I am melting.
One hand snakes between us to enter my pants. They are loose and I have skipped the panties. He already knows because my sex has left a dark gray circle on my crotch. His smooth fingers separate my lips and begin to rub and cradle. I don't expect my body to tremble, I've been blessed by these fingers many times before. And yet, my eyes disappear into the back of my head. My pussy is dripping onto his palm as he continues to crescendo on my clit. The hood is lifted and open, pulsing for John. His lips are at my neck, kissing, sucking, grazing his teeth over my sensitive earlobes. I'm holding onto his shoulders as I buck into his forearm, my body begging since my mouth is inutile.
John hears me loud and clear, though I've yet to ask him directly. He pulls his pants down with one hand while the other grasps my jaw. His eyes feel loaded with passion as he stares into mine. Not just with lust, but with the expectation of perfection, of euphoria, the promise of next time. Next time is never certain, so we let the adrenaline take over.
I sink to my knees fully clothed and take his dick into my mouth. The familiar salty taste mingles with the hazelnut tones of my now-forgotten coffee. My tongue immediately feels wetter, preparing my throat to swallow him. And I do. My lips lock around the bump of his head and glide to the base like butter. Flick my tongue, and twist my wrist. I moan onto his shaft to vibrate the bulging vein carved along the bottom. John's hips are rocking sporadically now as he struggles to contain his eagerness. Noting his impatience, I struggle to contain my smile. Teeth are not allowed in a blow job.
I sit back on my heels, done sucking him off. I look up at him as innocently as I can, peeling off my shirt, daring him to defile me. He needs no further temptation to press me down flat onto the floor. His hands bunch my sweat pants at the waist and pull much too harshly to remove them. His mouth is on my still soaking-wet pussy in seconds, each hand encapsulating a whole breast. He's squeezing harder than some might like, but I need it. Keep me here, with you. Remind me who I am, where I am, what we are. These are the thoughts ping-ponging in my head as I come onto John's face. His oral pirouette from my pussy to my ass isn't stopping and everything below my hips is pulsating.
Soon, maybe because he can no longer breathe, John licks up my body to meet me with a kiss. Of course I taste myself, and it tastes the same as last night. Delicious. His heavy cock tickles at my entrance and I use my heels to push his butt to me. Closer, stretching, borrowing into my wet escape. He allows the first two inches in and stalls, the anticipation tantalizing and dizzying. John plunges in once I make eye contact with him, a plunge that I feel at the very back on my pelvis. Before I can even open my mouth, he pulls out, hooks a hand on my right ass cheek and flips me over. Presses between my shoulder blades and spreads my most secret spot. Cue more pussy eating..
His huge cock is banging on my ankle, and at this point I would have broken my back to align our privates together. He stops to rip off his shirt, and I use the opportunity to peek at his broad shoulders, hair askew from my fingers. The line of thick black hair trailing from his chest to his dick looks like a fur sash. I turn back, curl my back like a cat against him and his face falls back to my neck. The heavy breaths and erotic whispers whooshing past my ear are making my already rock-hard nipples pebble to an aching point of tenderness. I reach under my belly to grab his familiar member. It just...fits in my hand, and its soft, and fuck, the familiarity makes me nervous. I jealously grip it and slide it into my leaking pussy.
I'm throwing it back on his pumping thighs immediately, and I can feel him start to sweat. His hands are large enough to wrap around each side of me, slipping from the sheen as he steadies my course. I dig my fingers into the floor beneath me, as I try not to howl like a faking porn star. I'm panting in rhythm with his thrusts, and the overall energy around us feels electric and dense. My clit begs to be flicked while he's back there doing his thing, and I gratefully oblige. My chest falls to the floor and I make sure to turn my face to the side, giving him a clear view of my face in ecstasy. It always sends him over the edge.
'Uhnnn', he mumbles as he fully encases his shaft and meets me face to face on the ground. John's nose meets my cheek as he whimpers, 'you are so fucking beautiful'. Trying to spin me around again, but this time he attempts it still buried in my gut. I make the severance for him and flop (sexily) to my back once again. He wraps my knees around his waist before placing both hands on each side of my head. John's eyes drag along the planes of my face for a minute, before settling on my pupils. My mind stutters just a bit as I wonder what he's wondering, though I expect he has one thing on his mind...
So I pull up on my elbows, and kiss him deeply, opening my mouth in the way I feel able. Physical intimacy was always my strong suit, and this tactic should allow him into my mind as well as my mouth. The other lips are not neglected for long, as John uses his strong legs to position his tip at the ambit, and slide in.
Fully inside of me, John releases the tension in his arms, and pauses again. I could almost cry from the sensation. I don't know why the emotions take me over when we are connected like this. I feel suffocated, not only by the full weight of his heavy body on mine, but drowning in the depth of the connection. I feel seen, and want nothing more than to hide. I don't let the tear out, I just arch my back as high as possible, creating space to breathe. John appreciates the position and focuses fully on pounding my G Spot. Within three pumps, I am squirting all over the floor. John can't handle the deluge and pulls out at the last minute, coming onto my chest and stomach. A rogue drop lands on my cheek, making me simultaneously both disgusted and flattered. I wipe it off, revelling in the ability to make John lose control.
Neither of us care about the mess we've made and we lay still, trying to contain our gasping lungs. John is relaxed on top of me, nestled into the crook of my shoulder, his dick soft. I run my fingers through his hair as I think about my article. How long is too long to cuddle after sex?
I think about how I want to tell him I love him. I think about how I need space. I say nothing except, 'Want more coffee?' and shift to break our post coital cocoon.