It's So Much Fun To Make You Ache

I lean in to kissing him again, pressing myself forward and sliding both arms up so that they almost luxuriously lay over and aorund his shoulders. I moan when he touches me, when his hands slide down to cup my ass and then squeeze it in his wide and strong grip.

Three weeks is unprecedented. We've both been so occupied that frankly finding time to be together out of little stolen moments is almost an impossibiliy. So to be able to have three weeks where we can just be with each other, where we can take the time to really explore this still so new relationship in such a physical and unrestrained way, it feels like it's almost too good to be true.

The time I've been with him, it's been enlightening. I can't quite bring myself to believe it, to believe that I could be so happy. So lucky.

But some part of me knows that it's more than just luck, that it's fate. Because while we weren't exactly love at first sight, there had still always been this inescapable draw with him that made it clear that he was the man I was meant to be with. That I needed him. That I craved him and wanted him and would never be able to get enough of him.

And that? Well, for me at least, that was reason enough to fall in love.

There is absolutely no reason to rush things today. Three weeks means that we have more than enough time to take our time but I still don't want to delay one more moment than I have to. My body aches for him, my thighs quivering and there has been this emptiness inside of me that has been starving for so long. A hole that only he can fill for me.

And so I know where I want to be. I know what I want and what I need to do. And I know that there is no sense in playing games, in holding off from leaping straight to the end of things.

But still... it can be fun to make you ache.

My hands slide down as I step back just enough to make a little gap between our bodies. I slip my fingers in waves down his body until I'm hooking them into his belt and then unbuckling it quickly. Body trembling with the eager urge, with the excitement of the thought that I just might get to have him once again and it's always exciting with him. He always makes me feel so positively giddy with it.

I nip at his lip and then I pull back with a giggle and smoothly slide down to my knees, taking his pants as I go. Moaning I press forward and nuzzle against the bulge in his boxers and as he kicks away his pants I slide my hands around to grasp his firm ass and pull him into me, pressing my face against him.

I inhale, smelling the masculine scent of him and moaning as my lips part and then close around his bulge even through his shorts, pulling him into my mouth a little as my tongue slips out against the fabric and I hear him moan with a heavy rumble above me.

I need it. I need to taste him. I need him to fill my mouth with every throbbing inch of his cock and to **** the air out of my throat, threatening to suffocate me with all of his thickness.

Tugging once more and he falls out and I'm on him in an instant, a giggle and a moan before I part my lips around the thick head of him and push down to take as much of him in me as quickly as I can.

Hands free. My hands pinned behind me now in the small of my back as I pull back and bob forward a few times. He is warm on my tongue and he is throbbing and pulsing for my attention and when I pull back to the edge to suckle just the head of him I turn to stare up, batting my big eyes up and him while a smile curls at the edges of my lips.

"So fucking hot," he grumbles, "God Em, I can't get enough of you."

"Good," I reply, mouthful of cock muffling my words but I take it anyways, twisting a little as I push forward to take him and pull back, my hand coming around to the base of his cock to stroke him while I suck him in long and slowly repetitive strokes.

That grow faster. That get so much faster each time. As a potent urgency builds between us that threatens to break and the need that both of us feel, the need to have and to hold and to just get him inside of me once more, builds and builds until it is almost too much to take.

We want it.

We need it.

And nothing is going to get in our way.

I hear him mumbling. A repetitive refrain. Something akin to a worshipful phrase, to a tattoo being pattered over and over and over again like the words of a spell. He isn't speaking so much as the words are bubbling out of him. Tumbling out and falling the moment they pass his lips so that only he can hear them but I hear the tremors that signal the start of it and in the rumble of his body I can feel the volume growing louder.

"I can't," he says, over and over again in a throaty rasp, "I can't."

I don't know what he can't but I know what I can't. I can't stop. I can't help myself. I can't do anything but bob and taste him, but give my lips and my tongue and my throat and my mouth to his pleasure, twisting my fist around the base and then the shaft of him while my other hand slowly strokes his heavy balls with just the tips of my fingers and my nails.

But he can't. He can't and is building to something I don't know what he means but when he snaps, it's instantaneous.

Because he can't.