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NELs
Make ... it ... stop ... I start with kissing: once our lips touch gently, and then they are pressed together. Our tongues find each other, and delicately caress, while we taste each other's saliva - to me, yours is the sweetest of nectars. While we are kissing, you feel my hands run down, over your shoulders, gently cupping a breast in each hand. You feel my gentle, yet strong and sure, hands massaging your breasts. Your entire body is sexually charged - wherever I touch makes you shiver with delight. Eventually our mouths part, and I plant a row of kisses down from your mouth to your chin, and from there to your throat. My hands continue to massage your shapely breasts. You throw back your head in ecstasy, and this allows me better access to your throat, as I cover it in many soft kisses. Painfully slowly, I work my way up, along your jawbone, to the ear. I take the lobe between my lips, kissing it and licking it, biting it gently, playfully. Then my mouth comes back to yours and our tongues touch again. You feel my left hand slide up, over your breast, over your shoulder, where it runs through your lovely hair, and entwines itself there. You feel my other hand making a slow descent, from your breast, over your heaving ribcage, to your belly, which I begin to caress gently, running my hand over your navel. K: My hands rest momentarily on your strong shoulders, my fingers involuntarily clutching in ecstasy ... I regain a modicum of control and run my hands down your arms, slip them around your waist and spread my palms out across your broad back. I hook my left leg up around your waist, drawing you even closer to me, and slip my right hand down your hip, down through the mat of pubic hair, hesitantly to touch your growing erection. At my touch, you respond, pressing yourself against my thigh as you crush your mouth to mine, your hand which clutches my hair holding me securely. I feel your lips twitch into a small smile as you sense my breathing deepen. Slowly, we topple over to fall onto the king-size bed, our teeth bumping against each other. While our tongues flicker and dart at each other like duelling hummingbirds, my hand grasps your erection as you slip your hand between my thighs, your middle finger slipping inside me. Your passionate kiss barely stifles the gasps which your touch elicits, my breath shuddering in ragged pulses, I manage to tear myself away from you long enough to whisper hoarsely, "Please, wait! Not so soon!" I somehow gather the strength to draw back from your loving embrace, my tongue describing a line from your sweet lips down your pulsing throat, across your chest (I can hear your heart beating wildly), and down to where your erection now stands proudly upthrust. With both hands I gently squeeze the base, and the head swells noticeably. I touch the tip of my tongue to the tip of your penis, to taste the pearl of fluid which appears there. While I squeeze your stalk with one hand, I caress your balls with the other and tease the head of your penis with my tongue. As your breathing grows deeper and more erratic (or even errotic!), I slowly press my thumb into the underside of your penis and carefully, sensually spread my lips over the end, teasing it, applying a soft kiss as it grows even larger. I hear your sigh, like the rumble of thunder in the distance, as I wrap my lips around the crown of your penis, slowly stroking up and down with both hands now. Suddenly, you snare my leg with one hand and drag me around so that I am sitting astride your heaving chest. T: Then, my hands on your thighs, I pull you forward so that you are kneeling over my face. Fully aroused now, your twin sets of lips are open to me and your love-bud is swollen with desire. I lay a path of gentle kisses up your inner thigh, the last one gently brushing your vulva. You gasp, your chest heaving -your little breasts bobbing. You feel my hands slide up your thighs to your buttocks, which I caress slowly. I extend my tongue and gently run the tip around your outer lips, sending a thrill through your body. I move deeper, my tongue caressing your inner labia. I lightly dip my tongue into the entrance of your vagina, tapping the source of your love-juices. You can feel the pressure building inside. Then, flattening my tongue out, I lick over your vulva, from the perineum to the clitoris. I gently kiss your erect bud, take it between my lips, and suck and lick it gently. The feeling of my mouth around your clit is intensely pleasurable, and you feel the contractions begin, sending sudden waves of jerking pleasure through your vagina, which break and wash throughout your entire body. You give a little squeal and a moan, your breathing quick, your heart thumping, the skin from your lower abdomen to your shoulders flushed. The sight of your body wracked with pleasure is almost enough to make me explode, but I manage, somehow, to resist. I slip out from under you and turn around, kneeling behind you. I kiss up your spine and run my hands up your sides, pressing my chest to your back. My hands cup your firm little breasts, feeling each perfectly formed erect nipple. You feel my erection against your back, and you turn around. Our lips meet and we kiss, our tongues once again doing a delicate dance between our mouths. One hand on the small of your back, the other between your shoulders, I hold you to me. The feeling of your breasts pressed against my chest is wonderful. K: For a few moments we both kneel there, lost in our own sensual world, pressed so firmly against each other that it is almost as if we are trying to merge ... you press me back slightly, and with a smile that you can read with your lips against mine, I push back, and we sway for a moment, semi-seriously wrestling for dominance. The way your chest pushes at me in time with your breathing drives me wild, but instead of throwing you over onto your back (I'm certain that I could!), I push you into a position where I can sit astride your hips, and I climb up your lithe form, wrapping my legs around your waist. I rub my belly against yours, our noses bump, I turn my head and our mouths lose contact for a moment as I take a breath before resuming the attack. I feel myself slowly slipping down your body until your firm erection touches me, where I pause and as you lean back, I dig my heels into the small of your back and slowly climb up your body again, my thighs resting just below your ribcage. Again I allow myself to slowly descend, my nipples brushing your chest, all the time remaining with my mouth locked to yours. I take one hand from around your back only as long as it takes to guide the swollen end of your shaft into me. For a moment I pause there, but you murmur "Okay, enough teasing!" and slowly flex your knees, bringing your torso upright, and I begin to slide inexorably down. I arch my back and playfully draw away from you again, but you are obviously done with playing, as you firmly place your hands on my hips and guide me down onto your shaft. Hesitatingly, trying to draw this moment out as long as possible, I take your axis into me, a few inches at a time, wiggling my hips and (I confess it) unable to repress a shudder or two of pure hedonistic pleasure, I finally settle into your lap. Suddenly you hesitate, and murmur, "shouldn't I be wearing a condom?" I smile, and turn my head so the you can see my earring, a silver 'n' with a red cloisonne slash through it. You teasingly nip my tongue with your teeth as I contract my thigh muscles and squeeze you; I hope that my heels digging into your back won't make the same sort of bruises that my fingers clenching your shoulders must be causing. You deftly hook your feet under the end of the bed, and thus securely pinioned, you slowly lever yourself forward at the knees until I am lying on my back on the two-inch thick shag carpet. You hover over me for a moment, gazing into my eyes, and then with a soft exhalation, you smoothly slide the entire length of your engorged erection into me. This time, I am unable to prevent a small ohh from escaping, as you deftly withdraw using a spiral motion of your hips. I have to force myself to relinquish my grasp of your waist, but not entirely, and I assist your second thrust by digging both heels in. I throw my head back in ecstasy, gasping for breath, and one out-thrust hand encounters the ice-bucket with the bottle of chardonnay. I knock the bucket over, and clutch desperately at the fist-sized chunk of ice that lies nearest my trembling fingers ... T: Your fingers close over the hard, biting cold of the ice, clenching and locking in the ecstasy of my fourth thrust. You grip the mass almost painfully tightly, the intense cold burning into your palm and fingers. Our bodies seem charged with a cosmic energy, a force which binds our spirits together like an ever-tightening web of force. Pulling our souls together into a place where pleasure and pain are one ambient feeling. You await the fifth thrust, but none comes. I slide the length of my erect phallus from your writhing body, a giddy feeling in my brain. My penis throbs to the beat of your desire, ready to spew forth the juices of my lust, but it is too soon for that. This is the ultimate game we play: a constant teasing of the other's desire for release. I force your thighs apart further, and you lie there, awaiting the fifth thrust. I reach a finger between your legs, touching the very tip to the soft area of skin between anus and perineum. Then painfully slowly I bring it up, over the swollen border where hairs become naked flesh, dipping slightly into the vaginal entrance and picking up drops of moisture, which I trail up over your swollen clitoris. Then my fingers brush through the hair of your mound, faster now, they run over your belly, over a breast, up your arm, and to the hand clutching the ice. Our lips press together once again as I work the large mass of pure, unadulterated cold free from your fingers, and bring it trailing across your outstretched arm to your chest. I anoint your erect right nipple with freezing cold, causing intense pleasure, or intense pain - the border between the two has become blurred. Then I kiss the wet and freezing nipple, warming it with my hot saliva. I do the same with your other nipple, finally bringing the ice trailing down your pleasure-racked body towards your thighs. K: ... As I realise your intention, I struggle, but you easily take both of my hands in one of yours, and kneeling between my thighs with my feet securely pinioned under yours, I am completely at your mercy. I bite my lip as you playfully circle my belly-button with the wet shard, following the sharp bite of cold with the soothing warmth of your breath, inscribing ideograms of ice only to erase them with the tip of your tongue. I can all but sense your smile as you subdue my squirming, the point of the ice-cube making its leisurely way towards my slit. You tease me with it, dabbing at me like some perverse Picasso, following each freezing sting with a quick kiss and flick of your tongue. You pause for a moment, and ask, "If you promise to be good and not to struggle, I'll let go of your hands." "Oh ... please, anything... just ... don't stop." Your domination assured, you continue to trace your artistry around and then within my focus, always relieving the cold with your kisses, the intervals between cold and warmth decreasing until you are pushing the now-diminished fragment into me with your tongue. The quivering of the muscles in my upper thighs, the indignant protrusion of my clitoris, indicate how close to orgasm I am, and so with exquisite timing, you dreamily kiss your way up my belly, skimming over my ribs with your hands, one of them wet and cold, tweaking the nipple over my pounding heart, the other tracing a path over my collarbone, up the side of my neck to bury itself in my hair. You drag me forward and part my lips with the cold tip of your tongue, pressing mine down, rotating your mouth so that your lips slide over mine, hugging me to you tightly, one knee rising between my legs and gently rubbing against me. Your hands skim down my back, your index fingers artfully press into two spots just above the base of my spine. There must be some sort of acupressure point there, because as you expertly massage the taut muscles of my lower back, softly humming a bass tone that I can feel all the way down to the pit of my stomach, I sense a familiar warmth rising in me, swiftly overtaking me; my eyes open wide and you sense how close to the edge we have travelled, and you spread the focus of your massage, palms outspread, tracing the curves of my buttocks, occasionally returning one hand to the base of my spine to refuel the fire which rises and falls within me. Desperate now to reach some climax, I press myself down on your thigh, wrapping my legs around yours; I try to rub against your leg, but you even deny me this release, holding my hips with a gentle but firm grip. Almost in tears, I breathe huskily, "Haven't you taken this far enough?" You laugh softly. "Not nearly far enough." T: My hands slide over your hips and I gently push you down onto your back again. You lie there expectantly, your legs spread, the flushed lips of your womanhood parted. My forearms under your knees, hands on your thighs, I bring my lips to your inner thighs, tasting the soft, smooth flesh flavoured with your sweat. I can smell your cunt leaking the perfume of your lust, a fragrance which makes my mind race, the blood in my body seem to boil. In an almost liquid movement I slide my body between your legs and kiss first your belly and then a warm nipple. I raise myself above you and look down the length of your body to where my manhood is poised before your open portal to the lands of ecstasy. I am hurting for release, and it seems so blissfully near. I can wait no more. My hands come up to your breasts, my lips to yours, as your legs wrap around my waist. K: In one smooth motion, you slide into me again, striking from below, raising me off the carpet with the force of your entry at the end of the stroke. Again, I bite my lip to prevent crying out as you measure your erect length within me. You slowly withdraw, delivering the intense pleasure that was only hinted at previously. I desperately try to hold you within me, to try and prolong the sensation, but you are too strong for me; you pause for (what seems to me) an unnecessarily long moment before you enter again. At the height of your motion, with a twitch of your hips, you make your penis jump within me, something which I would ordinarily find comical, but at this point we are both too far gone into each other's ecstasy to care. Now, all preliminary playing over, we settle down into an almost mechanical rhythm, broken only by the occasional pauses necessary to draw back from the edge of orgasm ... we both want to prolong this as long as possible. The temperature begins to rise, a film of sweat forms on our bodies, and the pauses become more frequent and gradually become synchronous. Soon, we are hardly moving at all, both of us precariously balanced on the edge of climax; you crouch there, your erection half-in, our mouths locked together, arms woven tightly around each other. I can feel your pulse deep inside me; I can imagine the head of your penis arched like a snake about to strike. A small moan escapes your lips as, with painful deliberation, you force yourself in between my swollen lips, grinding your pelvis against me as, with a breathless pause, a single moment frozen in time, together, we slip over the edge that we have been dancing so close to for what now seems an eternity. The intensity of the feeling frightens me; whereas previous climaxes came and went in a single wave, this seems to be striking again and again, more powerful with each resurgence. My heart hammering, I try to frame some expression of denial, but in this primitive state of raw experience, like moths suspended in a pure white flame, complex things like words are simply incomprehensible. I must have lost consciousness for a moment; when I return to a state where I am able once more to comprehend my surroundings, you are poised over me with an expression of concern. You carefully stroke my forehead, which is slick with sweat. I find myself trembling, breathing deeply as if I had just run a marathon. I throw my arms around your neck, and draw you into a slow, sensuous kiss, which recalls a faint echo of the experience we shared. My vision is blurred by tears, and I sense a tremor in your voice as you say, "Come on, it's getting -" "May I use your bath?" I ask in a small voice. You make an expansive gesture of assent, and I crawl to the bathroom. As the tub fills, I glance back at you, asleep on the rug, and my vision blurs again. I spend almost an hour soaking in the tub, floating in a post-orgasm trance, trying in vain to remember what happened after the highest point in the series of climaxes. It was, I imagined, something like being electrocuted. I get out, dry myself, and find my clothes by the red glow of the digital clock's segmented display. I grab a blanket from the bed, drape it over you, and kiss you goodbye. On the way out, the doorman gives me a dirty look, the look he reserves for the proletariat when they are daring enough to try and bluff their way into the technocrats' residences. I give him the finger, and then run off. Back home, in the noh zone, I order the vagrants and 'throwers out of the industrial waste bin where I live, in an alley just down from the protein processing complex. It's certainly not up to the standard of your apartment, but it is warm and safe, lined with synthetic tiger-fur that had been thrown out of the complex after some industrial accident. I curl up in my tiny home, sucking my thumb, and although I am still crying, I have my memories. No-one can take those from me.
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