I wanted her to make me come with her body. I brought the dildo, just in case, but I left it in my bag, telling her that I wanted her to use what she had to bring me as close as possible. I told her, “I know you can make me come. I have faith. I might change my mind [about the dildo]though, but I am a woman, and that is my prerogative.”
I'd also told her that I wanted to make her come, I wanted to feel her thighs tighten against my head, blocking out the sound, as I made her come with my tongue. I love the way she tastes, and I always thought it was silly how authors described a woman's sex tasting like fruit or flowers. Kitten is salty, and almost like a peach, kind of tangy, but much sweeter when I go deeper. I was worried I'd hate the way she tasted, but I really love it, which probably stems from my love of giving orgasms in the first place.
It was late afternoon when we got back to her apartment, not leaving us with much time. As we fell into bed and into the usual rhythms, she beat me to the punch, slipping her hand down the front of my work pants and rubbing circles around my clit. I get so wet, so easy for her, sometimes I feel embarrassed by it. She dipped down for some more lubrication and came back up, teasing me with light pressure, her fingers flickering back and forth over my hyper-sensitive nub.
Every time she dipped down, my hips rose—I wanted so badly for her to slip her fingers inside of me, but she didn't, instead flickering back up to nudge me ever higher up the hill.
I kept getting close. So very close. My whole body tensed up and my breaths came shorter, quicker, but I could never get over the edge. I'd scrabble at the cliff's end only to slide back down the mountain. It was starting to drive me crazy.
“I think,” I panted between breaths, pausing a few times as she would sometimes touch a particularly delicious spot, “I think… I want to use my prerogative…”
“Oh?” she said softly, her fingers unrelenting.
I disentangled myself from her. It wasn't easy—she kept rubbing me and making me squirm, making me groan and making me not want to get up at all. But my dildo was in my bag, and my bag was in the living room. I hurried up, making a pit stop in the bathroom to run it under hot water both to rinse it off and to warm it up. She was waiting for me, laying on her back in bed.
After I handed it to her and crawled back into bed, she met me with those kisses that I simply cannot get enough of. She held it at her hips and I straddled her, my hand guiding the tip of the silicone vibrator between my lower lips. I was soaking, hot still from our warm-up, but the cock is too big for me and it took a moment for it to start sliding inside. Kitten is impatient—I felt her pushing it up into me, which forced my whole body forward. I let her.
I know I make noises. Especially at the initial penetration, that feeling of stretching, the total consciousness of something inside me and feeling every inch, every ridge. Kitten says I growl, Ark says I purr, but no matter what you call them, they're noises of pleasure. Indulgence. I'm not always vocal, but when something feels so very good, I can't help myself.
My fingers clutched at the edge of the bed, at her pillow, her hair. I was getting hot. My thighs slid farther apart, my back arching. Kitten was pushing into me harder, faster. “Slower,” I urged her. “Longer, deeper strokes.” She complied instantly and I felt the difference. I moaned, letting the sex move me. I was kissing her, licking her throat. The dildo was nudging my G-spot as it slid in.
I wanted to grind against her—I wanted so bad for it to be a cock on a harness, so I could feel her hands on my hips, my tits—I wanted her to pull my hair and grab my ass, I wanted to rub my clit against her on the down stroke or I wanted her to rub it. Though I could feel my climax building, I couldn't help but think about the extra intensity I'd get from clitoral contact.
I didn't have long to miss it, though. My orgasm crashed over me. My whole body tensed, my head curling down, my thighs squeezing her hips between them. It rolled through me starting with an explosion in my loins, shooting up my spine and curling my fingers, my feet, my toes. Suddenly, my muscles released, and I shook with the waves of the climax. My own voice rose in my ears, gasping and crying out in perfect harmony with my pleasure. I was filled with happiness not just because I was coming, but because I was coming for her.
It's almost as sweet as getting her off.
