Wetness

It had been too long since she’d felt a man’s body working into her and fractions of each second passing fueled the fire growing inside her, a ball of need and gnawing desire. As she and her date sat across from each other, there became a natural pause in conversation and his eyes played against hers with promising tension. Smiling, she leaned across the table and set down her wine glass.

“So,” she said, “would you like to go back to your apartment and masturbate with me?”

Dark enveloped them inside his apartment and cushioned their fall, sinking down onto the sofa, their mouths meeting, inseparable. The windows, decoration, paintings, furnishings and surroundings dissolved around them, their focus funneled into the sensation of lips parting, overflowing in feeling. Their bodies shifted against and across each other. She felt his hardness grow beneath her, coaxing a soft tingling between her legs. Her hand slid down his chest, the curves and swoops of his musculature, and smooth skin of his abdomen to his erection. Slow strokes up and down, back and forth. His warmth filled her hand and she could feel his arousal grow vibrating within him. His breathing became deeper and longer and he reached down between her legs. Just then, she felt his fingers caress her ever so slightly sending a ricochet of shivers up her body. Then again, his finger dragged along her clitoris, hot with anticipation. He pushed her onto her back, making his way down on her. She felt his tongue enter her and move into her wetness. Reaching inside her with his tongue, he drank her liquid. His tongue slid rhythmically from inside her across her wetness up to her clitoris and back, again and again.