Thomas sits up at last, and his strong, sizable hands begin wrapping softly around my shoulders.
“I’d rather do it myself.”
“Do what yourself?”
“Give you the fuck of a fucking lifetime.”
“We’ve still got to turn up the heat a few degrees before that.”
Thomas starts nudging the thermostat immediately. His lips fall gently just above my shoulder, just above the top of my shawl.
His kisses begin just as gently, maybe even more than that, to the point I can barely feel a thing.
They pick up in roughness, though, and I sense an untamed and uncontrollable animal in him as he kisses around the bottom of my neck—and tears off my shawl.
Both of us are breathing heavy enough to create an orchestra of overstimulated panting as our two sets of hands work together to take off my blouse, then my bra.
“Ohhhhhhhh.”
Thomas’s roughness reaches a crescendo of sorts as his hungry kisses reach the top of my tits. Each landing of his lips starts to soften as moves his way down my left tit, closer to the nipple.
Before he reaches the outer edge of my areola, he stops.
My fingers curl around the surface of our comforter, and my toes start to curl subtly, too.
Thomas repeats the routine with my right tit, this time getting even more gentle, getting even slower until he stops.
“Fuck, Thomas, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
Thomas takes my nipple softly into his mouth as he reaches into my long silk skirt.
“You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you?”
He’s hovering just above my tits now, and his hand is just close enough to my cunt to feel how fucking soaked it is.
“Yes, I’m so fucking wet, so stop talking about and do something about it.”
As Thomas’s hand slides up towards my panties, his entire body slides up as well, and he takes my left shoulder into his mouth—tonguing it and sucking on it like I did with his.
“Fuck, we need more fucking massage oil.”
Thomas doesn’t destroy my skirt like I did to his pants, but he does deftly and efficiently get it off my legs and onto the floor.
The feel of his head, floating somewhere so painfully close to my pussy, nearly sends me into some sort of hysteric convulsions.
My husband, for the first time that I can remember, takes the waist of my panties into his teeth, and pulls them down with his mouth like a hungry, wild wolf.
Thomas’s tongue is soon paying gradual and deliberate attention to every nuance of my insistently tingling pussy.
As waves of bliss crash through me and the tide of my ecstasy starts to come in, Thomas’s lips get in on the action.
My hands slam against the top of the mattress, and my feet kick with a powerful climax.
Thomas leans back only slightly as I squirt like a geyser, and he begins climbing on top of me before the orgasm’s even finished.
That initial high-water mark of gratification blends and fades into the rising heat and ineffable pleasure of Thomas’s huge cock starting to slide into me.