Getting My Hands On Him

Oh but it is clear what he wants, what his intention is. It is clear what he'll have if he can have anything at all that he wants.

̃And that's nothing less than all of me.

With a growl he grasps me again, this time showing no sign of pulling back. He pulls me into him, crushing me against him as his lips taste mine and his tongue presses forward past my lips.

And I close my lips over it, sucking on it hopefully as a precursor to everything else that I'm going to suck on. Pulling it into my mouth again and again as I moan for him, teasing my tongue against his.

His hand runs up my back to the back of my head, playing with my hair before he holds me against him while his other hand roams.

Moaning as I suck on his tongue I feel his hands feeling me. Running over my body as if he can't get enough of the touch of me, as if he wants to experience every last inch of my body with his fingers and his palm.

He grips my ass and squeezes it, hopefully feeling just how tight and taut it is. His hand runs up and plays with the bottom line of my shirt before pressing under it and straining it to even tighter limits as he fumbles over my sports bra and clenches his grip over my breast.

Oh god, I want his touch on bare skin. I want him to touch me and want me and need me and fill me and satisfy me and make me fucking cum.

I want to give this stranger everything I've got and have him have everything from me. I want him to be my first and to have it happen right here and right now.

I want him inside of me.

More than that I want to make him feel good. I want to be good for him. I want to be enough for him and to satisfy him as well.

His interest is obvious and his attentions are so damn good but as I shiver from his touch and shudder, wriggling against him, I can't help but realize that I am woefully inexperienced here.

I mean all of this is all so new to me and I don't know half of how this body works and the stumbling and fumbling I did last night hardly count as an education, let alone one that is skillful enough to be enough.

And it is so fucking unfortunate that my experiences in my past life were far more focused on solo missions than they were any dalliances with the other side of the gender divide. Oh god what I would give to have just an ounce more experience or just a few more encounters because right here and right now I felt like I was fumbling in the dark.

And all I had to hope was that fumbling would be enough.

Fumbling with the snap of his jeans and the zipper of it. Fumbling it open and pushing my way past his boxers and into the interior where it was tight and pulsing.

Wrapping my hands around something so hard and so thick and so throbbing with life that my mystery lover groaned, pulling his tongue back as he felt me start to stroke him. His lips leaving mine as he takes in a shuddering breath while I stroke to the length of him and pull back down to the base.

And is it just my imagination? Is it just that touch is never a good indication of reality? Is it just that I'm building it up into something more than it really is or is reality more satisfying than I thought possible?

Is he more perfect than I imagined?

Because the man whose cock I have in my hand feels so big to me. So thick. So long.

So absolutely and utterly fucking enormous.

Could a girl really and truly be so lucky?

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