Make delicious love

Now at last he smiles, a big, broad, satisfied smile.

“So you are awake?” you ask, teasing.

“Oh yes. I’m awake. I just didn’t want to interfere with an artist at work.”

Now you smile, and now it hits you. He’s here, in your bed, and you’ve made love. Twice.

“You must think I’m horrible.” you say. “That I do this all the time.”

He looks at you, his eyes full of humor. “If you did this all the time, you wouldn’t have been in the restaurant all those nights. No, what I think is that I’m incredibly lucky. Or else I must be the best waiter in the whole city and all this was by way of a tip.”

You slap him playfully, but you are worried about what he thinks of you. It’s too soon to tell for sure, but you think he might mean more to you then just a quick roll in the hay. Something about the way he touched you the way he kissed you, the way he gathered you into his arms after it was over. You weren’t ready for that. Basically all you wanted was to fuck. You don’t need any more emotional crap at this point in your life.

“But God, it’s too early to get up.” he says. “What time is it? Nine o’clock? That’s the crack of dawn when you work nights. Don’t you have to work?”

“No.” you say. “My hours are pretty flexible. I can afford a day off now and then.”

He sits up and looks around as if seeing the room for the first time, then looks back at you. “My name is Rob, in case you’ve forgotten. Rob DiCastro. Where’s the shower?”

“Just down the hall.” you say, and you watch him get out of bed a little sadly. He really is good looking, and look at that ass. And then you see your fingernail scratches on it and you bite your lip in concern. Did I do that?.

You hear the water start and then he comes back in. “Well come on,” he says. “You wash my back, as the saying goes.”

Even though he’s just seen you completely nude, you grab a robe and hold it over yourself as you let him drag you into the bathroom. He opens the stall and pulls you in, pushing you under the spray, and as you stand there he soaps a cloth and starts washing your back. It feels marvelous.

“Really, about last night…” you begin, but just then the cloth goes down over your ass and into the crack between your buttocks. He scrubs your asshole, and his touch is much more sensuous than it is hygienic. You have to put your arms out to lean against the wall.

He soaps up again and turns you around so he can do your shoulders and breasts.

“Yes?” he asks, “What about last night? You’ve never had a lover as good as me? Is that what you were going to say?”

You laugh but it comes out a little breathless because he has dropped the cloth and is washing you now with his bare hands, standing close enough to you so that his hardening cock is pressing into your thigh. The look on his face says that he doesn’t expect an answer, so you close your eyes and offer your mouth instead.

He takes that offer in a tender and teasing kiss that is in direct contrast to the bold and inflammatory things he is doing to your body, squeezing your soapy breasts until they slip out of his grasp, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, prodding your pussy with the head of his cock.

He slides his soapy hands between your legs and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep from falling. His back is broad and strong and wonderful to hold on to as his hands makes you gasp and moan. You stand there under the beating water, your breasts mashed against his chest, and you realize he’s good when you notice how he avoids putting his soapy hands inside you, confining his caresses to the outside of your pussy.

“Oh my,” is all you can say.

You wonder if it would be possible to wrap your legs around him and take him inside, but decide that’s just too risky in the shower. It doesn’t matter anyhow, because he’s already kissing his way down your body, and he’s there before you can even try and stop him.

You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but as his tongue touches you his appreciation is so apparent that you know he’s doing this as much for his own pleasure as yours. He spreads you apart gently and kisses you. He tastes you. It’s like he’s working with a rare and delicate fruit and not sure how to get the juice out, so he probes with his tongue, he sucks gently, he licks, he uses his fingers to expose new parts of you. And all the while you’re leaning against the wall of the shower, arms wrapped around yourself as if you’re cold, when actually you’re anything but.

When he’s had enough and starts to rise, you can’t wait to get your hands on his face and bring him to your mouth so you can show him how good it was with your kisses. But by now he’s very hard, and his embraces and kisses have that **** quality that tells you he needs you, that he can't wait. And you too are on fire for him.

“Let’s go to bed.” you say, and he doesn’t make any wisecracks now. His need is apparent in his eyes.

You dry off as quickly as you can. You forget your robe and pull him back to the bedroom where he just about throws you on the bed. You planned to return the gift of his oral attentions but he’ll have none of it. He almost growls as he arranges you on the bed and shakes his head no. He wants to fuck you plain and simple. All that fancy stuff can wait.

You open yourself to him and look into his sober and non-sleeping face for the first time, and it gives you chills to see the desire in his eyes. You want to say things to him, but all of them are obscene so you just wait.

You feel the head of his cock at the entrance to your pussy and pleasure immediately punches into you, forcing you to jerk and cock your hips up for him. He slides into you easily, but with that same glorious stretching feeling, and you marvel again at his hardness, that flesh can be that rigid. He groans loudly and with such deep pleasure that you can’t help but smile, happy to be the cause of his joy.

This time it’s very intimate, very intense, as if he doesn’t want to leave your body even for a moment. Rather than thrusting right away he grinds, keeping his loins tight against the backs of your thighs as you raise your knees to take him deeper. His own sounds of pleasure encourage you and you begin to groan and make lover’s sounds of your own as he whispers hotly in your ear, “Oh God you feel so good! Your pussy feels so good on my cock! It’s like heaven! I love fucking you, love having my prick inside you, love what you do to me. Fuck me, baby, show me how you like it too. Show me how good it feels!”

His words inflame you and make you feel wanton and sexy, wild and nasty. When you break your lips from his kiss you whisper, “Yes, fuck me baby! Fuck me good with your big cock! Oh, you feel so good, baby! I love it!” thrilled at your own lewd words.

Your words get to him as well as he begins now to thrust in and out of you with hard, insistent strokes, pummeling your pussy as his body slams into you. His mouth is on your neck, his hands press your thighs against your breasts as he fucks straight down into your open and sopping pussy like a human pile driver, like a machine. You grab at his arms and feel the muscles, tight as steel cords, and his strength makes you even hornier for him, the hardness of his arms, of his cock, of his implacable desire.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you chant as he drives into you, all your attention now on the thrilling waves of pleasure radiating from your pussy as his slick cock pistons in and out of you.

“I’m close, baby!” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m going to come. I’m going to come inside you, baby! I can’t wait! I can’t…”

You squeal with excitement as you feel his body stiffen and go rigid as a bowstring. You feel him throb inside you and then you explode just like that, before he even comes, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave and tossing you under. Through your bliss you feel him throb and throb again inside you as he jets his semen into you, deep, deep and you hang there, mouth open, lost to time and aware only of his body and yours, fused in orgasmic pleasure.

This time there is no doubt. As he lies on top of you trying to catch his breath and you try to assemble your wits there is no doubt that there is something special here. It’s not just any man who can make you feel that way. There is something about him that connects with something very deep inside you.

He rolls off you and lies there gasping, looking at you with what must be the same questions in his eyes that you have in yours. Who the fuck are you? How come you’re so damned good? Why do you make me so crazy?

But he doesn’t ask any of those questions. Instead he takes your hand and kisses your palm, slow and sweet.

“You want to go out for breakfast?” he asks, “Or you want to stay here?”