He wants you. He wants you happy and pleased. And he knows you are curious, happy with him, but just feeling a bit more adventurous at the thought of expanding your repertoire.
He spent his time shopping for you, finally deciding on a lacy bra and cheeky panties, and lays them out wrapped in white tissue paper with a note that says, “Enjoy your evening…”
You shower and find your gifts laid perfectly centered at the foot of your bed and think to yourself how thoughtful he is. He’s already left for a night out with the guys and you take your time getting dressed, applying your makeup in a way that accents your natural beauty, and checking one last time before you depart.
He gets home late, smiling at the empty tissue paper, and pours one last drink before turning in for the evening. Minus one in the bed beside him, but he’s genuinely happy you’re out enjoying yourself. And can’t help but to wonder what you’re up to this late.
Just barely after the sun starts to poke through the shades you arrive home, quietly opening the door and walking down the hall. You stop in the bathroom to check your hair and makeup, still gorgeous even after a long night up.
And there he is sleeping still, his drinks and long week at work have him in a deep slumber. You undress quietly, removing all but the lacy things he thoughtfully gifted you. You’re gentle when you crawl in bed and he stirs enough to barely open his eyes, smiling at your presence. He turns slightly to kiss you and you kiss him deeply in return, thankful for him and glad to be back in his embrace. His hands touch you like no other, and you know that is definitively the truth after last night. He’s still tender and loving, with an unmistakable commitment to your happiness and pleasure.
Your hand travels across his chest, feeling his muscles flex, down further until your fingertips follow the well defined v shape leading to his manhood. He’s still soft, still waking, but you tug him with care to lengthen him as you lay your head on his chest.
“How was your night, love?” he asks.
“Shh…I’ll tell you a story…”
His hand moves slowly over your skin as your heart races while you decide where to start. You can feel his fingertips trailing down your thigh, inching closer, until he smiles softly, feeling your warmth, and wetness, the remnants of last night. His heart beats so quickly with anticipation that you feel it thumping against your cheek as you lay on his chest, the blanket moving up and down as you continue your tugging.
You start by describing your restlessness, the excitement, and shyness in the moments before meeting him. How over dinner you could feel the sexual tension building. And how you were slightly conflicted, but took solace in knowing you were supported and loved. The nervousness as you approached the bedroom door at his place last night. How you had been texting him lately and sharing some dirty talk about what you’d do and how that kept you aroused the entire week.
He stirs a bit at your descriptions, feeling your hand bring him to full erection. You’re careful in your story telling to give him every detail because you know he wants to know your real feelings. You go on, telling him how your first kiss was. The heat and how hungry you felt for this man. The raw desire. How he took care to make you comfortable, slowly removing your jeans and shirt until you stood before him in just the lacy bra and panties you were given just hours before. You tell him how he was never far from your mind, but in the moment you let yourself go, a sort of wanderlust for the new pleasure. He smiled happily knowing you could do that.
You told him about the first time you saw this man’s cock-how you unzipped his slacks and found his thick member pointing firmly in your direction. How you held it and stroked it just as you’re stroking him now. How it tasted when you placed the thick, round head between your lips and tugged it down your throat. He moans at your description, precum dripping in your hand makes it easy to slide up and down his thumping rod.
Tell him exactly how it was when this man tasted you, how hungry he was for your body, devouring your most intimate parts like he couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t sloppy, you say, he was skilled, and knew what he was doing, so much so that you quickly came, your hips bucking against his mouth as your first of many orgasms rushed through your body.
You can feel how firm he is as you lay there atop his chest telling of your evening. He hasn’t shown any jealousy, but he has shown his affection and you know you’re in the right bed. You continue on to describe the first time you felt this man enter you. You can feel fingers over your lace, exploring your pleased body. You hesitate for a moment.
“It’s ok, tell me…,” he whispers.
You’re on your back and feel this man’s hands under you, holding you in place. Describing the first push in, how it was perfectly sized to make you moan. Your hand swirls around the head of his cock and starts slowly moving down under a tight grip to simulate how it felt as you took your new friend last evening. All the way down and you could feel it flex just as you get to the bottom, and just as you felt last night. Describing how filled you were and how you could feel his hands move over your body, paying attention to you. But you’re clear about how they weren’t like his, nobody touches you the way he does.
Faster. You’re parted and wet, taking the thickness a little easier now from being so turned on. He’s gentle at first, but then you tell him to fuck you, because only one man can make love the way you need. So he fucks and fucks well. You tell of how you can hear your bodies meeting, how you were pounded and taken so thoroughly. You include all the positions; from behind, on top of him, your side, against the wall, and finally how you were so horny this morning you fucked him in the shower before you came home. Each of those drew an orgasm from you.
By this time your story has him near his finish. His fingers still resting against your lace, rubbing softly. You tell him how hard you came each time, how you can still feel him between your thighs, and how you want it again. And you tell him how he tasted, swallowing his seed once, watching it fall in long, white ropes across your chest another time. But when you describe how you were filled by him twice, you feel a warm wetness pour over your hand and his fingers lift the lace to find out for sure. You’re shy about it, pulling away just as he feels what you’ve brought home. Bashful about your full belly, you kiss him sweetly, and tell him it’s yours alone to feel. You close your legs to keep him inside you just a bit longer.
He kisses back, understanding as always. And he brings you closer. Neither of you could wait for you to get home, though you enjoyed your night out, you know you’re loved and have a safe place right there in his arms.
The shades block the beating spring time sun and you lay there in his hold until you fall asleep. And he doesn’t second guess a thing, he knows you’re right where you want and should be.