I Want #21

I want to answer the door, and beckon you in to the dusky twighlight of my abode.

I want to usher you over to a big leather armchair and ease you down into it. You sit back, and survey your surroundings – lamps making soft pools of dim light over undefinable shapes, deep black shadows hiding details in the corners. Easy music floats over your ears, almost inaudible, but enough to hide the silence. The curtains are drawn apart, and you face the sparkling lights of the city below.

I want to fix you a drink, a tall cool glass of champagne, bubbles crawling up the fluted side and bursting in a minute firework display just above the rim. As you put it to your lips, the bubbles tickle your nose gently, and the drink oozes down your throat, filling you with fruity sweetness.

I want to stand behind you, gently massaging and rubbing your shoulders, my hands gentle but firm, easing the tension out of your neck, fingers and thumbs easing through your knape-hair and rubbing out the knots from your muscles.

I want to unbutton and slip off my shirt, the cool air playing across my skin as I walk around in front of you and drop a cushion on the floor in front of your feet. I take the champagne from your hand, and place it on the table next to you.

I want to slip my fingers onto your feet, lightly brushing your skin with my fingertips, easing them around your heel and sliding up the back of your calves, caressing and molding the muscles in my palms, twisting and turning your firm flesh.

I want to move my fingers to your knees, where the hem of your cotton dress lies, gently sliding my fingers up your thighs, easing your knees apart, opening your thighs to me and drawing you forward in the chair. I want to drag your skirts back to your hips, until I can see the perfect white triangle of your cotton panties lit up from the window.

I want to drip kisses onto your knees and your thighs, my mouth trailing warm lip-prints all the way to your hips, my warm breath fluttering under your bunched dress, caressing the goosebumps on your skin.

I want to trail my fingers to the edge of your panties, and trace the line where they meet your skin, following it in the curve around your thigh and then trailing across the soft whiteness of the cotton, just sensing the soft springiness of your pussy beneath. I want to feel your involuntary movement as your hips push forward, trying to make the touch of my fingertips on your mound more than just a light brush. We play this game a few times, my fingers caressing your pussy through your pure white knickers, your hips rising to meet my touch, my fingers drawing away. Each time, you sink lower into the chair, and your thighs slip past me on either side, until you are slouched, hips at the edge of the seat, watching my next move.

I want to slide my palms up your hips, flat against your skin, until my fingers find what they seek, hooking into the loose elastic around the waistband of your panties. I want to drag them down, the tiniest of movement from your hips lifting to release your undergarments, and your knees closing together – temporarily – as I slip your knickers down over your shins and pluck them from your feet. I want to pause, kneeling before you as you watch me, and push your panties against my face, breathing deeply and savouring your musky, sexy smell, my mouth beginning to water as I sense your taste for the first time.

I want to push your knees apart again, spreading your legs wide open, presenting your flower to me, your soft shaved mound and your plump pink lips glistening in the dim light. You drag your dress up your belly, revealing your navel to me, showing me everything, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

I want my mouth to meet your skin, kissing you slowly and gently, on your hips, your thighs and your navel. I kiss in wide circles, with each loop getting closer to your pussy, trailing my tongue from each kiss and leaving little glistening prints in its wake. As my circles get smaller and tighter I sense tiny – almost imperceptible – shivers on your skin, each touch firing off little electric shocks deep within your flesh, and then…

I want to trail my tongue across your soft mons, your soft pussy rising instinctively to meet me, my thick muscle gliding down onto your cleft, brushing the hood of your clit before plunging deep between your labia, your sweet nectar oozing across my tongue and running into my mouth, as I push my tip deep into your wet slit. You catch your breath, the suddenness of my tongue deep in your cunt forcing a moan from between your lips. As my mouth begins to work itself in and around your engorged lips, coating my lips and chin with your sticky honey, you begin to writhe and sqirm.

I want you to lift your knees up and rest them on my shoulders, your heels digging into my back, opening yourself wide for me and forcing my face deeper between your thighs, my eager tongue further into your sopping cunt. Your hands are on your breasts now, and as I lick and flick deep into you, you pull the thin straps of your summer dress and flimsy bra from your shoulders, exposing your breast and tweaking and twisting your nipple with your own fingers. As my tongue darts to your hood, the thick hot muscle working its tip in and flicking your clit you cry out again, your hips bucking as I struggle to hold you in place.

I want to feel my cock straining inside my trousers, pulsing and beating, rock-hard but ignored as I fuck you with my mouth. I want to slip my hand between your legs and slide my digits into you, finger-fucking you as my tongue flicks and slips across your pink flesh. I can feel you opening up now, your petals unfurling as I slide one, two, then three fingers deep into your sex, feeling out your most sensitive spots and working against your clenching muscles.

I want to look up across your stomach, taking in the most beautiful of views, my favourite place to be… I want to see the creamy white mound of your pussy, inches from my mouth, the soft rolling plain of your navel, stretching away from me, and the peaks of your breasts, nipples hard and pink, the valley between them glinting with your aroused perspiration. The whole landscape undulates as you writhe and shudder beneath my mouth.

I want to flick and lick and probe and kiss, thrusting my fingers ever deeper into you as I feel the crescendo rise from within your very core. I want to see you bite hard down on your lip as your hips buck and roll and twist in my grip as I fuck you harder, deeper, faster with my hands, my mouth, my tongue. I want to feel your thighs shudder as the waves of pleasure course through them, gripping my neck and back, forcing my face harder between your legs, my urgent tongue unstoppable as it flutters over your deepest intimacy.

I want to hear you cry out, “Yes, yesss, YES!” as your orgasm hits you, wave after wave crashing over you from head to toe, your entire body spasming in my hands, like a woman possessed, the demon deep with your darkest place crashing around your muscles as you let go of all reality and fade in and out of blissful nirvana.

I want to hear your choking, gasping desperate breaths, as your splutter for air and convulse in my hands. My tongue flicks and thrusts, each touch throwing you this way and that, until you can’t take any more and push my head away from your throbbing cunt.

I want to sit back on my haunches, and watch you slump, sated, exhausted, breathing in shallow irregular gasps, chest rising and falling, your nipples hard and pert, wobbling as you begin to giggle.

I want to smile at you, seeing your face light up, knowing what I have just given you, grinning as I lick your juices from my chin, my hands gently caressing your hips, sending tiny little aftershocks through your limp body.

I want to devour you.

I Want #20

I want to bathe you.

You slip down down into the warm blue-green water, your wake sloshing behind your nape, and the waves rolling the length of the bath, washing little groups of bubbles up your chest and over your shoulders.

I want you to bend your knees, your head slipping under the surface, your hair swaying in the water like long fronds of kale washed by the tide. I want to run my fingers through the strands, separating them until you look like a flower, petals spread around your pretty face.

I want to take your hand as you push off the taps with your feet, steadying yourself as you slide up to sit, the water cascading off your shoulders and breasts, dripping off your nipples, streaming down your belly in little silvery rivulets, pooling on your navel and disappearing into the dark wet fuzz where the water laps between your thighs.

I want to work the shampoo into your locks, swirling and massaging it into a thick foam which oozes down your neck and forehead, forcing you to close your eyes and relax still further. I want to make circles and zigzags across your scalp with my fingertips, working the suds deep into the roots and speeding the bloodflow to your mind and through your body. I want to pile your soapy hair up on top of your head, caressing and twisting it in my fingers as the creamy lather drips down your spine.

I want to rinse you clean, warm sparking water running through your shining hair, all the while gazing at your naked body glistening with the wetness, thighs slightly parted, the swell of your mons half obscured by the tiny layer of disappearing bubbles on the water surface.

I want to lift you up, and wrap you in warm fluffy cotton towels, patting your body dry, touching you all over as I softly blot the water from your skin.

I want you to lay back on the bed, arms sprawled above your head, legs apart, and admire my work, drinking in your soft clean perfect nakedness as I strip off my own clothes, and prepare to devour you.

I Want #19

I want to take off my shirt.

I want to peel it off, the heat bristling against my skin, droplets of perspiration running down my knotted muscles, over my back, soaking into the wasteband of my boxer shorts. I slip the belt back through the buckle, slowly, deliberately, before flipping the ends apart. I draw it through the loops in my jeans, the tongue of it cracking as it whips out and drops to the floor.

I want to pull the button apart and wrench the denim, forcing the zip down, and then pushing the faded blue material down over my hips and onto the floor.

I want you to look at my erection, hard, thick, foreskin rolled back just slightly, my red angry glans straining at the tight skin over them. Your eyes transfixed on my loins as the blood pulses into my shaft making it bob gently up and down. I want you to sit on your hands, your prim pastel flowery summer dress bunched under your thighs, knees together and slightly to the side. I want you to look, sense, feel my arousal, barely blinking as I begin to stroke my cock’s length with one hand.

My wedding ring sparkles and glistens in the artificial light as my hand twists and rolls back and forth, drawing my tight skin back over my cockhead and then rolling it forward, my loose balls swinging gently between my parted thighs.

I want to walk to you, in slow, steady steps, still gripping myself, my hand stroking up and down my length. You stare, eyes avoiding my gaze, locked on my navel and the slow steady movements of my masturbation. I want to draw my finger across your shoulder, tracing the line of the halter-neck to your nape, pinching the twisted fabric and pulling – gently sliding the material through itself until the bow gives way and the dress slips down to your lap.

I want to stare, eyes wide, at your hard red nipples, standing proud from your small taut breasts. My stokes become quicker as I become more and more turned on watching your half-naked submission. Your hands are still under your thighs, voluntarily restrained.

I want you to breathe in, sensing the scent of my oozing pre-come, spreading itself across my cock’s glistening tip as I wank myself more and more vigorously. I want you to lean forward as you sense my climax approaching, seeing my stomach muscles quiver, offering yourself to me, submitting completely.

I want to come, hot splashes of my seed leaping from my cockhead onto your chest, running down between your breasts, over your belly. As the streams of stringy white spunk drop onto the lap of your dress you remain motionless, eyes wide, mouth corners upturned in the feintest smile, tongue tip showing between your parted lips. As the remnants of my come ooze out of me, trailing down to you in a long threadlike strand, I urge my hips forward and direct my cock between your lips. As your mouth meets my hard flesh, I give one final squeeze and cover your tongue with the last of my sticky mess.

I want you to carefully lick me clean, and then gently pull up your dress, and spread your legs. I want you to ask me to fuck you. I want you to want me to fuck you.

I want to fuck you.

I Want #18

I want to you wank me. Kneel before me, take my cock in your hand, and stroke my length, rolling my foreskin back and forth, over my glans. Close all your fingers around my shaft, and hold me tight as you slide my length through your fingers.

Spit on me, until my skin slips across your closed palm, fucking your hand. Don’t touch me with your mouth.

Caress my sack, feeling the silky smooth skin and the soft hair against your fingertips. Then make a ring around the base of my cock and hold me tight while your other hand frigs me faster and faster, changing angle from back and forth to up and down, almost flat against my stomach.

Work me harder and harder, squeezing my balls gently, easing me until you feel my muscles begin to twitch and shiver. And then let bring me off, stroking gently as my knees waver and my hot come streams over your face, shoulders and your tits.

Now, take me in your mouth. Lick and suck me, tracing the contours of my stiff cock, swallowing down the drops and blobs of my white seed, while my come drips and runs down your breast, over your stomach, gathering in lines all tracing towards the soft dark hair of your pussy.

When you have finished, I want to lick you clean, and then push your legs apart and fuck you.

I Want You

Oh my baby baby I love you more than I can tell
I don’t think I can live without you
And I know that I never will
Oh my baby baby I want you so it scares me to death
I can’t say anymore than “I love you”
Everything else is a waste of breath
I want you
You’ve had your fun you don’t get well no more
I want you
Your fingernails go dragging down the wall
Be careful darling you might fall
I want you
I woke up and one of us was crying
I want you
You said “Young man I do believe you’re dying”
I want you
If you need a second opinion as you seem to do these days
I want you
You can look in my eyes and you can count the ways
I want you
Did you mean to tell me but seem to forget
I want you
Since when were you so generous and inarticulate
I want you
It’s the stupid details that my heart is breaking for
It’s the way your shoulders shake and what they’re shaking for
I want you
It’s knowing that he knows you now after only guessing
It’s the thought of him undressing you or you undressing
I want you
He tossed some tatty compliment your way
I want you
And you were fool enough to love it when he said “I want you”
I want you
The truth can’t hurt you it’s just like the dark
It scares you witless
But in time you see things clear and stark
I want you
Go on and hurt me then we’ll let it drop
I want you
I’m afraid I won’t know where to stop
I want you
I’m not ashamed to say I cried for you
I want you
I want to know the things you did that we do too
I want you
I want to hear he pleases you more than I do
I want you
I might as well be useless for all it means to you
I want you
Did you call his name out as he held you down
I want you
Oh no my darling not with that clown
I want you
I want you
You’ve had your fun you don’t get well no more
I want you
No-one who wants you could want you more
I want you
I want you
I want you
Every night when I go off to bed and when I wake up
I want you
I’m going to say it once again ’til I instill it
I know I’m going to feel this way until you kill it
I want you
I want you
I want you

Elvis Costello, Blood & Chocolate

I Want… #17

I want walk up to you and invade your personal space. I want to push myself against you, and feel you push back, not pulling away, not turning, not flinching. I want to reach around behind you, and twist apart the clasp of your bra, flicking the straps off your shoulders, and dropping it to the floor. I want to pull you to me, feeling your bare skin pressing against my chest, your hard nipples pushing into me. I want to slip my hands inside your panties and slip your knickers over your hips, down your thighs and onto the floor.

I want to hold your firm arse in my hands, squeezing it as I lift you off the floor. I want you to lift your feet, your legs wrapping around my waist, my hardening cock nudging at your backside as you cling onto me around my neck. I want to kiss you, my tongue slipping between your lips, exploring and tasting your mouth, noses rubbing as we twist our heads first one way, then the other.

I want to support you as you reach down, guiding my cockhead with your fingertips between your soft moist lips, your honeydew running down my shaft as I slip into you. I want to pull you tighter to me as you cast your arm back around my neck, fingers running through my hair, your hips crushing my pelvis into you, driving me deeper into your eager depths.

I want to stumble forward, knees weakening, crashing your bottom onto the chest of drawers, sending makeup and other detritus scattering onto the floor, and then driving, pounding my shaft into you as we regain our poise and find a less precarious position. I want to watch your breasts bouncing up and down as I push in and out of you, nipples riding the wave of the ripples rolling up our bodies. I want to look down between us, seeing the base of my shaft disappearing into the neatly tripped fuzz of hair, glistening and shining as it slips in and out of you with each thrust.

I want you to lean back, hands parted, steadying yourself, fingers white as your struggle to keep your grip, arse slipping slightly on the smooth wet wood as I push back and forth in and out from between your thighs. I want you to throw your head back and pant, moan, cry, scream as I pound your cunt harder and harder, building up speed, kissing your neck and shoulders. I want you to bite down on my shoulder, teethmarks glowing red as you try to control your writhing lust.

I want you to come with me, muscles spasming, pelvis rolling and shuddering, insides clenching around my length, squeezing and holding me as I pump thick hot spurts of come into you. I want you to yell out, my name or anything, squealing and crying as waves of our climax surges through us both.

I want to slump onto you, motionless, exhausted, softening and oozing, covering you with kisses, feeling your thighs around me loosen but not let go. I want to rest, recover, drink water and lie back and breathe.

And then I want to do it again.

I Want… #16

I want you to look at my cock. Gaze at it. Stare at it. Take in every detail. I want you to watch the way it trembles, my cockhead bobbing with each pulse of my heartbeat, as the blood surges in, making me harder, thicker, longer.

I want you to notice how it leans slightly to my left, perhaps naturally, perhaps from years of self-pleasure. I want you to follow the line of it with your eyes, from the taut roll of foreskin, pulled back over the bulge of my glans, down to the soft curly hair around the base of my shaft. I want you to look at the swollen pinky purple glossy head, a smudge of moisture at its tip.

I want you to spread your legs, and touch yourself. I want you to look at my cock, and tell me how you’ll touch it first. Maybe with your hands, maybe your mouth. Perhaps both. I want you to tell me how you’ll pleasure me – will you stroke me slowly, suck me gently or wank me hard and fast until you can stand it no longer and have to have me inside you.

I want you to imagine how it will feel when I push your moist lips apart and slip my full length inside you, filling you with foreign flesh, hot, rigid, violating you but becoming part of you. A welcome intruder into your core, fucking you, filling you, coming insde you, my seed oozing from your cunt.

I want you to look at my cock. It’s yours. I want you to have it.