Dishing Up Love

Fuck, the sounds he makes, his hums of approval and groans of ecstasy, as if he’s the one on the receiving end of these expert ministrations, could send me over the edge alone. But I force myself to get ahold of my breathing, using every technique I can think of that I teach my patients to use during anxiety attacks, because my heart is in a panic it beats so wildly with every plunge of his tongue inside me, with ever nibble to my clit, with ever vibration of his growls of desire.

His big hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my softness until his thumbs creep around to hold my pussy lips open, and I whimper, bracing myself for impact. I glance down to see him staring at my most secret place, and the look of animalistic possession on his face is nearly my undoing. I shudder under his heated gaze, and the movement of my body must snap him out of his trance just enough that his mouth lands on me once more, and I squeal at the force of it all.

I’ve never been eaten like this before. It’s always just been a couple minutes of foreplay to make sure I was ready for the main event. But what Curtis is doing to me is a headline show all on its own. And that thought is solidified as my breath starts to hitch and I can no longer control my breathing techniques. A feeling of rapture starts to fill me up, building, building… building until I swear I will explode as he latches onto my clit, circling it with his flawless lips, and then massaging it incessantly with the flat of his tongue.

And then I do. I shatter into oblivion. I scream out, “Fuck, Curtis! Oh, God!” as my entire body convulses, my hands digging into his scalp to hold him against my pussy as I ride the wave of euphoria all the way back until I’m lying flat on a sandy beach of blissful release.

My limbs go limp and my hands fall from his head, my breath coming in deep pants as my heart beats wildly inside my chest. I can’t move, but that seems to be fine with Curtis as he places one last kiss to my center before crawling up my body, where all I can do is stare up at him through eyes that are half-mast.

He smiles, but it’s not cocky. It’s one of love I’ve never seen directed at me before him. “How are those insides doing?” he whispers, nuzzling the flesh above my heart, and I blink when he meets my eyes once again.

“Empty,” I reply. “Need you.” And with the last bit of strength I can conjure after he’s made me a limp, melted mess on my big bed, I hook my ankles behind his thighs and pull him to me, where his hips nestle right up against my still sensitive flesh. Which is when I realize he still has his pants on. “Please,” I whisper, trying to use my feet to pull his jeans down, and he wastes no time. He’s suddenly as naked as I am, and the head of his big cock presses right up to my entrance, making me shudder.

“Tell me if it hurts you in any way,” he demands softly, and my eyes meet his concerned ones.

I nod, my arms lifting to bury my hands in the back of his hair, and I pull him down to me so I can kiss his lips, tasting myself there as he slowly starts to press inside me, filling me inch by gloriously thick inch. I whimper at being stretched like I’ve never been stretched before, his girth like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and when he pulls back, his eyes narrowed in worry, I bite my lower lip and sigh in pleasure before reassuring him with a whispered “So fucking good,” and see relief fill his every feature.

He surrounds me then, his forearms wrapping under me to rest on his elbows beneath my shoulder blades, pressing my chest up to his, where I can feel my nipples getting lost in the hair he has on his chest. The light tickle there makes this suddenly a full-body experience instead of all the focus being right where we’re connected, and it allows me to take yet another of his breathtaking inches.

When it feels like I won’t be able to take anymore of him, as if he’s reached the farthest depth of me, he pulls out slightly then sinks all the way in, making me gasp as the tip of his cock butts into my cervix. My back arches, trying to back away up the bed a little, because it’s just… too… much, but his big palms grip my shoulders from beneath, not allowing me to move.