If You Were Here

[fe****]

If you were here with me now, the two of us lying in bed, lights dim, both exhausted from a long day, I would let the quiet between us stretch like a soft blanket. The kind of silence that feels full, not empty. I’d turn just enough to feel the warmth of your shoulder brushing mine, reminding me we’re not alone in the dark. My breath would slow, syncing ***ly with yours, until it feels like we’ve found a rhythm made only for the two of us.

I’d let my fingertips rest lightly against the sheets at first, my hand casual and weightless. Then, so gradually it would almost feel like an accident, I’d let my pinky brush yours. Just that little point of contact, skin to skin. No words yet, just the thinnest crack in the wall between restraint and desire.

Your arm would shift, maybe as if by chance, maybe not. The fabric of the sheets would whisper as I inch just a little closer, hips brushing, legs half-tangled. I’d breathe in the faint heat of you, the kind that lingers after showers and sweat, and feel the steady cadence of your chest under my cheek if I dared to settle there.

The silence would get heavier then, thick, electrified, as if the whole room was holding its breath with us. A pause stretched so tight it begged to snap. And I’d be the one to break it, not with words, but by letting my lips hover at your jaw, almost kissing, as if testing how long you’d wait before pulling me the rest of the way in.

I roll closer, press against you fully now, your skin hot under mine. My hand slides across your stomach, down, impatient, finding the hard edge of your waist and pulling you toward me. You meet me halfway, your mouth crashing into mine. There’s nothing tentative anymore, it’s teeth, lips, breath stolen.

In seconds, sheets are tangled, clothes stripped off rough, impatient. I push you onto your back, climb over, kiss trailing down your chest as though devouring you piece by piece. My hand already knows where it’s going, sliding between your thighs, feeling the heat there before my fingers even touch skin. You’re wet, and I groan low against your ribs, the sound involuntary.

I grind against your thigh just once for the friction, then shove your legs apart. I want you faster than I can pace myself. The first slide into you is so deep, so sudden, it pulls a gasp from both of us. I stay there a long second, buried to the hilt, just feeling how tight you clutch me. My forehead drops to your shoulder, every muscle locked, savoring the way you wrap around me like you were built to.

When I finally move, it’s hard, rough at first, my hips driving, your nails carving lines into my back. The sound of our bodies hitting, the bed groaning, it’s raw, relentless. But once I’ve pushed you to that edge where your voice breaks, I slow deliberately. Long, slow strokes, dragging out of you until you beg for the push back in, until your thighs tremble from the tease.

I hold your wrists above your head, kiss you slow, almost tender—while my hips move torturously steady, every thrust filling you with aching precision. Your body bucks, but I *** the pace, loving how it makes you moan louder, more desperately, begging me not to stop and not to s***d up either. Staying in that place where pleasure is so knotted with frustration it feels unbearable.

I pull out suddenly, leaving you empty, your body arching up as if to chase me. That slick sound when I slide free makes me grin darkly, I know exactly what you want, and I’m not giving it yet.

My fingers trail down your stomach, slow, deliberate, until they slide over your soaked heat. I circle, barely touching, just enough for your hips to buck up wildly. You curse under your breath, and that only makes me drag it out more, tracing everywhere but your clit, pressing just enough to keep you gasping but not enough to let you fall.

Then I pin your hips down with one arm and slide two fingers inside while my mouth takes you. Tongue lapping, sucking, dragging slow, obscene swirls around your clit before pulling back to blow on it, keeping you right on the knife’s edge. My fingers curl, stroking deep inside that spot I know will yank the orgasm out of you whether you want to surrender or not.

You grab the sheets, arching, shaking your head, begging for my cock, saying you need it, but every time your voice cracks I double down with my tongue and fingers, harder, faster, until I feel your thighs clamp around my head.

I wait until your body’s right there, trembling, whimpering, so close to breaking, and then I slow just enough to keep you desperate. I want you to sob for it before I finally let you burst.

Finally, I give in.

My fingers pump harder, curling deep, and my mouth seals over your clit, sucking with no more mercy, no more teasing. The tension that’s been strangling you snaps, your whole body goes rigid, thighs crushing my head as you shatter around me. The orgasm rips through you loud and violent, your voice breaking into raw, *** cries while I ride it out, not letting up until you’re gasping for air.

I don’t stop. Even as you collapse back into the mattress, twitching, I slide down to keep my tongue working, fingers stroking that raw, tender flesh until I feel your body fight me, too much, too sensitive. But I pin your hips and *** another wave out of you. The second climax tears through harder than the first, ripping a scream from your throat as you shake underneath me, your hands clawing at the sheets with nothing left to grab onto.

I slow, barely, only to change rhythm. My knuckles glisten as I pump deeper; my tongue flicks faster, relentless. You writhe, whimpering, begging for a break, but I don’t let up until you’re convulsing again, the third orgasm choking out of you, hips bucking off the bed uncontrollably while you moan my name like it’s all you remember.

By the time I drag the last one from you, your fourth, you’re nearly gone, limp, your voice reduced to shattered, broken whispers. Your thighs spasm around my head, every nerve strung out, your body trembling like you’ve been unplugged from gravity. I finally lift my mouth from you, lips and chin slick, and lay against your inner thigh, feeling your whole body pulse with aftershocks like little earthquakes under my hands.

I grin up at you, watching you, absolutely undone, your chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. You look wrecked in the best way, your hair sticking to your damp skin, eyelids fluttering half-shut, your body twitching whenever I so much as breathe against you.

I flip you over, your body still trembling, and press you down into the mattress with my weight. My cock grinds along your soaked slit while you whimper, still overstimmed but already clenching around nothing, desperate again.

I slide in slow at first, letting the stretch pull a moan out of both of us, then bury myself to the base, pinning you against the bed. Your ass arches up beautifully, offered, and I grip a handful of your hair in one fist, yanking your head back so I can hear the broken little sounds spill from your throat.

With the other hand, I hook two fingers into your mouth, forcing them between your lips. They’re slick with your own juices, and I push them in deep, making you gag a little as you taste how ruined you already are. The sight of you, face pressed into the sheets, drooling spit around my fingers, moaning into your own taste, makes me slam into you harder.

Every thrust drives you deeper into the mattress, my hips pounding steady, dragging the sounds out of you. My grip on your hair holds you in place, your head arched back while I use your mouth around my fingers like it’s mine. You try to fight the sounds, but they come anyway, high, needy, filthy.

Your cunt clutches tight as I fuck you harder, every stroke smearing your wetness down your thighs, the slap of skin brutal and loud in the dark room. I lean over your back, hand still in your mouth, whispering against your ear.

Your whole body bucks, ***, as I drag every move out. Long, intimate, pushing deep, pulling back slow, your walls fluttering while your own taste coats your tongue. You’re wrecked, pinned, used, and all I can think about is how many more times I’m going to make you break like this.

Your body’s squirming under me, hair wrapped tight in my fist, your taste still drooling down your chin as my fingers keep your mouth open. I fuck you deeper, harder, until I feel that telltale clench start to grip me, your moans breaking into frantic cries around my hand. You’re past control, your pussy spasming violently as another orgasm rips through you, legs shaking, face buried in the sheets.

I don’t let you breathe before I keep driving, balls smacking, grinding you into the mattress, forcing one more out of you even while you’re already breaking apart. You screams again, a ragged sound, your whole body thrashing as that next climax knocks you nearly senseless, your pussy soaking, clenching everything it can around my cock while I groan into your hair.

And then I pull out. ***ful, sudden. You collapse in front of me, limp as hell, and I shove your head down on the bed. My cock’s slick, throbbing, and I grab your jaw, shove it into your mouth before you’ve even caught your breath. You gag instantly, throat stretching around the thick head, spit dripping.

“Take it,” I mutter, holding your head down as I start thrusting into your throat. Slow at first, watching your lips pinned tight around my shaft, then deeper, rougher, burying my cock all the way in until your eyes water. Your hands scramble at my thighs, but I don’t let up, using that messy little throat until I feel it boiling up inside me.

The second I can’t hold it, I ram deep one final time, hold your face down tight to my base, and roar as I unload straight down your throat. You ***, swallowing around the flood, gagging but taking it all while cum drips from the corner of your lips. I keep you there until the twitching stops, until I’m empty, then finally pull back, watching you gasping, throat glistening with spit and cum smeared across your chin.

I grin down at the wreck you are, limp, soaked, full of me inside and out. Exactly where you belong.

We collapse back into the sheets, sweaty, tangled, your body still twitching faintly from everything I just dragged out of you. My chest presses into your back as I pull you over, roll you on top of me so we’re skin to skin, no space left anywhere.

I grab your chin, tilt your face up and kiss you deep. Nothing rushed now, no need to chase, just slow, intoxicating kisses, tongues sliding lazily together like we’ve got all the time in the world. You taste like sweat, like sex, like the faint salt of my own cum still lingering on your tongue, and it just makes every kiss dirtier and more intimate.

My hands roam gently now, fingers spread across your back, tracing your spine. Your lips stay on mine, open and hungry, but softer, like we’re breathing each other in. Every sigh you make gets swallowed between our mouths, every little hum vibrating against my tongue.

We kiss until our bodies melt into the mattress. Little nips at your bottom lip, your teeth tugging mine, tongues curling lazy, kisses that deepen, stretch, ease back, then dive right in again. Nothing technical, all instinct, the way mouths move when they still crave even after being completely spent.

I hold your face in both hands, sliding my thumbs across your cheekbones while we make out like ***agers who never want to stop, sloppy and slow, lips swollen, hot breath mixing. You squirm closer, thigh over my hip, pressing your chest against me, and I kiss you even deeper for it.

The outside world stops existing. It’s just soaked sheets, our messy mouths, our gasps mingling, and the warm heaviness of your body sinking into mine. Eventually, exhaustion seeps in while our kissing slows, turns into softer pecks, tongues brushing lazily one last time until our lips just rest together.

We fall asleep like that, completely wrecked, completely full, completely tangled up in each other.