Commanding

There is tension between us, a harsh vicious tension of expectations and uncertainty. I lay there wishing for more than mere holding but knowing I can not ask, can not demand, can not say anything. Your chest is pressed to my back, your arm running under my head connects with my hands out in front of us. I squeeze your hand to let you know how pleased I am that you are there. You're right thumb moves gently across the soft flesh between my thumb and forefinger. My heart rate increases.

Your left hand runs up the curve of my hip till it finds the roundness of my breast and gasps it fully between your fingers. Your manhood rises and bumps against me. You caress my breast in circles till I start to gently writhe from the pleasure it creates. You lean forward kissing my shoulder, the back of my neck, and working up to my ear where you whisper, "take your pants off". The way you say it isn't a question. It isn't a demand. It isn't begging, but leaves no room for discussion. It's commanding and confident. The thrill alone of the sound of sheer knowing that I will, excites me and I remove not only my pants but my panties.

You continue to kiss my back and neck, occasionally nibbling on my ear. Your hand pressed firmly to my breast, teasing my now solid nipples. You lean in again and say, "take off your shirt" in the same confident commanding tone. I don't hesitate. I pull my shirt over my head flinging it to the side of the bed in a crumpled heap. Your member becomes more firm, pressing hard against me. Your hands roaming down to play with the tuft of hair between my legs. I'm wet, very wet. I can tell this excites you and you remove your own pants and shirt.


(sorry I'll have to write the rest of this later)