SEX, HEAT AND HUNGER: PART 2
I felt him climb onto the bed and move towards me, I couldn’t see anything, but my other senses were slowly becoming more astute. I could smell him, his delicious woodsy James smell, with just a hint of brininess from the sea air. I wasn’t sure, but I think it smelled even better than his natural intoxicating scent. I could hear him fidgeting with things, the soft rustle of fabric and the clinking of glasses. What was he up to?
He didn’t leave me much time to wonder before bristly sandpaper, or something very similar, assaulted my right nipple. It was rough and prickly and felt so incredible that within a few seconds I couldn’t handle much more and I was fervently squirming on the bed, wanting more while also trying to get away.
I tried to bring my hands over my breasts to block him, only to realize that I was bound and I had been told to keep my hands above my head. What was he doing to my nipples? A soft, wet, warmth, I’m assuming his tongue, enveloped my sensitive nub. He sucked and licked, bit and nibbled, bringing my body to overwhelming heights of arousal, until I was teetering on the edge, looking down and itching to jump.
Then he started with the rough bristles again, back and forth, up and down, around and around until my tight peaks were nearly on fire. But it was a slow burning fire, one that felt warm and inviting, with beautiful licking flames that mesmerized and beckoned all the moths. He continued with this pattern of torment, alternating between each desperate bud, allowing no moment of reprieve between his assault. On the bristle-less breast he was plucking and pinching with his fingers, leaving nothing unattended. It took me a while to realize what the prickly bristles were — his stubble! I’d failed to notice earlier, but he hadn’t shaved since Thursday morning, and his beard was growing in quite quickly.
I bucked my hips off the bed, but my restrained ankles made it tough. Shamelessly, I mewled for more as James continued to rub me with his cheeks and chin. A soft tickle started to run down my legs. Butterfly kisses swirling lightly around my inner thighs, alternating between each leg from the tops of my hips to the tips of my toes and back. All the while, James’ attention to my breasts never ceased. How many hands did this man have? He was using a feather! Brushing it up and town my legs and torso, flicking and fluttering over the lips of my cleft and down towards the cheeks of my ass. I was already so close.
Finally, as if reading my mind, his attention to my breasts subsided, and he swiftly moved to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between my legs. A cold softness swept up and down through my folds, licking me from clit to perineum and back again. He had been sucking on ice cubes, and his mouth was cold. What wouldn’t this man do to drive me crazy? He moved his face over my dripping slit as I laid there continuing to shake in anticipation of what would be next. He’d already brought me so close to the brink and then reined me back in; I wasn’t sure how much more teasing I could take.
“Oh God, yes, please… please,” I cried as James’ chin scruff began to run laps over my clit. The feeling was so exquisitely foreign and erotic I jerked up and would have kneed him in the side of the head if it weren’t for my restraints. The clash of sensations between the soft feather, the ice and then the roughness of his whiskers toyed with my mind and body.
“M-more, oh God!” I couldn’t get enough, the diabolical skill of his tongue and fingers, he was gifted, and he knew it. Giving so much but taking it too, taking it as he wanted.
“Get ready to come hard for me, princess,” he said with a triumphant purr.
I heard a soft buzzing sound and then felt a cold vibration against my opening. Pushing hard, James sheathed the ice cold vibrator inside me and pressed it up hard against my G-spot.
It was all too much. The temperature change, his scruff, the feather. I detonated. A volcanic eruption, taking on a life of its own and annihilating everything in its path, leaving nothing but hot lava and a smoky trail of ashes. It was like fainting but still being wide awake, unable to see anything besides the bright flashes of light that burst behind my closed eyelids. My pulse roared inside my ears and my mouth became dry as I screamed James’ name and thrashed against my restraints. He pushed up even harder on my G-spot, and I just continued to come, and come and come. Until I was too sensitive to be touched, and I tried to squirm away. Tears trickled down beneath the sash over my eyes and over my cheeks as I pleaded with him to stop, tried to push him off me, but I was bound and immobile.
“Do you really want me to stop?” His tongue halted its assault.
I swallowed and nodded frantically. “Yes… Please! It’s too much.” I was breathless, and I could feel sweat droplets running down my face and neck in rivulets.
He pulled away from me and eased off the bed. Boneless and satiated, I waited for the feeling of freedom, for my binds to be released so that I could close my shaking legs. But freedom never came. Instead, he climbed back onto the bed and straddled me, one leg on either side of my chest. I felt a silky smooth, hardness press against my lips and demand entry.
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