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| Blogs > rockonpeterhuert > If this be my destiny |
Hallelujiah
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Hallelujiah You’re on top of me, your tongue ensnaring mines and my hands fumbling under your shirt fumbling with the clasps of your bra. I finally unlock them and the fabric holding back your large breasts falls forward against the inside of your shirt. I trace my palms to hold back the swell and your erect nipples jut out in between my fingers. I give a squeeze and you moan against my breath. You start gyrating slow against my crotch and our jeans start unzipping themselves. I want to moan your name but if I do I’m afraid I might shoot in my pants like a . Your back arches and I move my hands move up to take off your shirt. You place your arms at my sides to prop up and your tits, so big they form a natural cleavage. My hands come up to knead them, circle them, pinch them and then you come down and press into my face. I take a nipple into my mouth and begin. You let out a little hiss and grip the back of my shaven head, finger tips digging and pulling me further into you. The taste of your sweet and your pheromones mix, the sound of your little gasps and for maybe 5 seconds I actually DO think I’m going to cum right there. Your jeans are now around your ankles and your panties are rubbing against my erect cock now poking through the hole in my jeans. I’m taking still taking in suck, moving between nipple to nipple and my hands kneading breast to breast and your hair is forming a sheath around my head and you squeal on the top of my head “Pe....Peter..” wait for it. “PeTER” your voice climbs on the last syllable. The time when we used words and language seems so long ago. Here, we’re just two animals, as if we’re the first homosapiens to have ever made love. Your breathing becomes more erratic, I suckle more. It occurs to me I’ve never had to match sexual rhythms on suckling and it occurs that you’re actually getting a lot more out of the this than any other girl who I’ve been with. More, faster, you rest your chin on the dome of my head. Your dry humping more mechanical, more with purpose as if…you smother my head into your tits. I can’t breath. Your breathing turns into quick yips and…. a sigh of relief. I still can’t breath and then you release and lay back in my lap with your arms propping you up. Your huge tits swaying back and heaving. A high flush in your cheeks. I wonder if this is actually as far as we go tonight. I’m not complaining. I could consider my big breast fetish satisfied tonight and die happy. Even though I just had a face full of them I sat back and stare at you undulating and thinking what a bonehead I was. For all the entire intellectual bullshit I pride myself on being I was still just some meathead who liked to look and play with titties, no different sexually than I was at 16. But now at this age I could appreciate the way halogen lamps glided across your skin. Wasn’t that a line from a Leonard Cohen song? No that was “her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you.” Amen brother. A few seconds of breath catching later I start to say one of the many stupid and awkward things people say when in the moment of adrenalin (“So call you in two days?” Casanova don’t have shit on me) when a vulpine like smile comes across you. You move forward and you slide up to me, face level this time, your eyes half closed and your nipples cutting the glass across my chest. “Now its your turn” and you kiss my forehead as if we were at the fair and I’d just won a stuffed animal at a shooting gallery. You slide down and uncouple yourself from my crotch and I lay back thinking “here comes the blowjob” in resignation. I close my eyes and I hear you shuffling with something. Then a liquid sensation and for a terrified thought of “I swear to God if anything girl pours wax on my dick like last time” before the sound of you spitting and the feel of your saliva soothes my fear. I open my eyes to see you clasping your breasts around my cock, you encircle your hands around your tits and entangle your fingers and I feel like I’m in a silk vice grip. There’s a plastic bottle near my hip and if I could take my eyes off the site before me or could form coherent thought I’d read “WARMING LOTION.” You start circle and squeezing your tits and rocking back and forth lightly. I let out a deep breath but don’t remember inhaling. You clench and unclench, the tip of my cock is only visible long enough for you to spit on it for lubrication. You cross your arms and hold the ends of the opposite elbow forming a perfect wall, you look up and smile at my half-lidded eyes. “You like this baby?” “Y…..” can’t finish “Tighter?” you arch back and hold it. Relax, and don’t wait for a reply. The pressure on my member is so much it felt disjointed, but the lubrication keeps it a pleasant numbness. Numbness then, the same euphoria sensation that I have in vaginal or oral sex. Motion, the hair from atop your brow and then back, and I can feel, yes, a bit of drool at the edge of my mouth. I can feel pre-cum dribbling from the tip of my cock mixing in with the sweat and the saliva and your tongue and your skin and the next time you lean back to me I grab you by the shoulders and the back of your head and I start humping without even thinking about it, my reptilian brain taking over and ushering my hips and crotch to the climax. I’m pushing your head down and my aggressive and, what-would-seem-like later, violent spasms are pushing near your lips and you’re opening your mouth and squeezing your tits as hard as you can and you’re sucking and licking the tip and then….. Whiteness. Preceded by a embarrassing noise, not a lovers sigh, not your name, a brutish grunt and cry as if I were stung. Whiteness. Then the sensation of licking and sucking as the remnants of my cum slid around the edges of your lips onto the top of your tits while you make sounds like “mmmm”. I realize I’m sitting halfway up, on my knees with my hands in a double fist of your hair. I loosen everything and you release your grip on me. You glide your hands up to my chest and back and trail with me back to the bed. After all that, funny thing, I feel thirsty. You’re laying on the bed next to me, tracing your fingers across me gently easing me back from the euphoric recoil. You guided me as though some goddess of divine sleep, and I dreamt a sweet dream where I woke up and you and I made proper love, and another where we made indecent love again. If there were waking moments, I did not remember them. A wind rattling outside, the sound was so still and your window so thin that we could hear leaves pelleting the concrete outside and the backyard lights coming on like constabulary searchlights. This one time I could remember being awake I remembered another line, from Stephen King that “maybe nothing in life was better than lying deep in a soft bed with a sleeping woman in your arms while the fall wind screamed outside your safe haven.” You were sleeping with your back to me, naked below the waist and I snuggled up to you like a spoon, placing a lecherous but well-meaning hand under your shirt to cup one of your breasts, your arms were in the way but feeling my touch moved out of the way to allow me access. I could feel your heart beat a rhythm. “Nothing better in the world.” Amen brother |
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