Submitted Letters from Women
I sit cross-legged on a huge flat rock in the afternoon sun, my drawing board perched on my knees, moving my fingers along a poorly-rendered charcoal facsimile of the man posed in front of me. I silently curse and then thank the art teacher for pairing me with this magnetic and deliciously beautiful man. Deciding to take a weekend drawing class seems like a very good choice.
He knows I've already finished his face, and he chats and jokes comfortably, as if my girlish attraction to him weren't written in flashing neon above my head. I smile and try to hold up my end of the conversation without sounding like a complete ditz, and wonder how damp the rock beneath me is. I decide I'll have to work on my piece until it starts to get dark so that he won't notice the wet spot that I'm sure is there.
His dimples taunt me, his dark eyes sparkle and I try in vain not to imagine his lips on mine. My fingers smooth a dark shadow in the valley of his thighs, and I can feel as my cheeks flame as I imagine my hands were actually rubbing him. I don't quite hear what he's saying.
He asks if I'm okay, and I begin to answer before I see the change in his expression. My words drop, and I hold his gaze, my chest rising and falling much too fast. I feel as if my face is portraying a much bolder woman, and every nerve in my skin begins comes alive as he rises to his hands and knees in a liquid motion and moves towards me.
He is a feral jungle cat with a devilish grin; he tosses aside my art materials and covers my mouth with his fingers as I pretend to protest. My breath ricochets off of his fingertips and I open my lips slightly, touching my tongue to his flesh. He grins wider, and presses a finger into my mouth. I rub my tongue along it, and he laughs softly when my lips meet the flesh between his fingers.
He traces his wet finger along my lips and then moves closer. He pauses, teasingly, millimeters from a kiss, his dark hair brushing against my forehead. I move forward, and he retreats slightly, a playful challenge, which I accept. I grab the back of his head and sink into a fierce kiss, our tongues moving somewhere between a battle and a dance. I moan softly; his hands begin roaming, conquering.
He wraps his arms around me and presses me to his bare chest. I feel our combined heat and my nipples hard against him. He pushes me back against the rock, forces my legs apart with his knees, and we lose ourselves in an undulating embrace - lips moving from lips to chin to ears and throat and back - a breath away from frantic.
My lips are pleasantly bruised from his kisses and we have tasted one another's exposed skin for ages when he pulls back, holding my eyes with his. He asks his question by taking the bottom of my shirt in his hands. I answer by helping him pull it over my head. Instead of removing it completely, as I expected, he grins and twists the center of it while my hands are still entangled above my head. I giggle; he holds me captive in cotton handcuffs.
With one strong hand he holds my hands still above my head, while the other slips underneath my skirt and in the side of my panties. He makes a half-moaning, half-laughing noise as he discovers how incredibly wet he's made me. I arch my back as he slips his finger inside me, pressing his thumb against my clit. My gasping sounds are immediately muffled by his kiss - he begins a maddeningly slow pace, pressing upwards with his fingers and moving his thumb in a circle against my clit.
My somewhat-girly sounds become more gutteral as I sink deeper into wantonness, and I begin thrusting my pussy onto his hand, but he maintains his devilishly firm but gentle, purposefully slow motions. I try to pull away from his kiss, to try to tell him to fuck me, I can feel his cock pressing, branding-hot, against my thigh. But he won't let me - he follows my thrashing head with his and tightens his grip on my hands, any tighter would begin to actually hurt. I make frustrated noises against his tongue, but he greets them with not unkind laughter.
I give up and surrender to the sensations he creates, and soon feel an orgasm begin to converge. He can feel my muscles begin to spasm, and he pulls away from our kiss to watch my face as he makes me cum. As our eyes meet I'm surprised at the amount of affection in his expression, and it intensifies the orgasm. I cry out and buck fiercely under him, both his hands still controlling my body.
I sink quickly into that slow-motion honey-coated delirium after I cum, as if I had taken opium. My swollen lips curve into a smile and I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, he has knelt above my shoulders, waiting, his throbbing cock loose from his jeans. He pulls my shirt away from my hands and presses his cock against my lips, just like he'd pressed his finger against them god knows how long before.
I begin to suck him gently, moving my tongue under the rim of his cockhead, and over the shaft as I move my head back and forth. In an unfortunately enthusiastic motion I whack the back of my head against the rock and cry out in pain, my mouth still around his cock. He quickly moves next to me, cradling my head in his hands, asking if I'm all right, and wiping the instant tears from my face with an expression of immense concern. I nod, unable to keep myself from crying, but laughing at the same time.
He makes a joke about perhaps keeping my head still for a little while, and kisses my salty cheeks. We fall into another kiss, and he moves back between my legs, as he had been while we first kissed. I feel the cold metal of his zipper against my skin, and his cock presses between the lips of my pussy and my thigh.
His hands still cradle my head as I reach between us and move his cock to my cunt. I stroke it gently, rubbing it up and down my very slick skin, and around my swollen clit. The sensations of his hands holding my head, his lips on mine and his cock slowly sinking into me overwhelm me, and it feels as if the world is spinning. He moves a hand from behind my head to run across my chest, pinching my nipples and squeezing my breasts with his magic firm but soft touch. A moan that began against his lips sounds louder as he moves his mouth to my breasts, licking and biting gently. I move his other hand from behind my head to my breasts, and then bury my fingers in his dark hair as we slowly grind against one another. Gentleness quickly gives way to urgency, and he tells me to get up on my knees. For my own safety, he laughs. I scramble to comply, and soon feel his warm hand on my ass, as he guides his cock into my pussy again.
His fingers dig into my hips as he slams his cock into me from behind. I thrust back and up to meet his motion and slide a hand between us to feel his slick cock gliding in and out of me as we fuck. I begin to growl and rub my clit; I'm so frantic that I can't keep rhythm with him, so I give up and grind my cunt onto his cock in tight circles, squeezing him as tight as I can. His hands move quickly over my back and he grabs my shoulders - he's crashing into me viscously, I feel sweat fall from him onto my burning skin. He makes oddly arousing grunting noises and slams his cock into me faster, I can feel his cock pulsing as he cums loudly, one hand wrapped in my hair and the other on my shoulder. I keep gyrating, rubbing my clit, and when he lays on my back and begins kissing my neck I explode again. I crumple against the rock and he moves with me, keeping his cock buried in my drenched pussy. We lay there, twining our fingers together and laughing. ****