Sometimes itís the little things that set me off. A simple word said in a certain tone of voice. A quiet little noise made at a particular moment. Tonight itís the sight of his hands as they reach for his zipper. Nothing special really, just the simple act of undressing, but suddenly that gesture became the epitome of all that is sexy in this world, every movement filled with erotic intent. Strong hands moving against denim, the slow slide of a zipper as it reveals a hint of flesh, the look in his eyes as his thumb brushes suggestively along his erection. A preview of things to come.
Then comes the slow swagger as he crosses the room, his eyes filled with heat, those pants barely hanging onto his hips. Everything about him is a tease, and even this is appealing as I find myself only wanting more. An eternity passes and finally he stands in front of me. He reaches for me, every movement a study in smooth, animal grace, and I slip into his arms. Our mouths meet in a languid kiss as his hands slide down my back, so hot; my skin is on fire wherever he touches. I pull him closer, knowing only he can put out the flames, and I come to the realization that Iím wearing far too many clothes.
He watches me as I step back and slip them slowly from my body. His eyes never leave mine, but it feels as though his gaze devours every inch of skin that I expose. As I toss the last of my clothes aside, his hands are at my waist and suddenly Iím in his arms, my legs around his waist. I feel the rough scrape of denim against my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh, and it creates an almost unbearable friction as we tumble onto the bed. My hands grip his arms as I arch my back, my hips pressed tight against his, begging him to fill me and put an end to the burning ache deep inside.
He pulls away, and for a moment I think heís abandoned me. But then his hands are reaching for his pants again and thereís the sweet hiss of cloth against skin as he pushes them down and off and moves to rejoin me on the bed. Then heís plunging inside so deep and fast, and all I feel is a wash of sensation as he starts to move. That slow, wet slide of skin against skin and Iím moaning and shivering, and all I can do is hang on tight as he takes me over the edge again and again and again.