Generators

We cuddle together on the sofa. If not for the several canned candles scattered about the room, it would be completely dark, since the neighborhood suffers from a lack of electricity. A slight breeze passes between the open windows, preventing the smoke from the cinnamon-scented incense from building up and stinging our eyes. Occasionally, a neighbor's dog will bark, or a lone vehicle will meander down the street; otherwise, it is just you and me, in the dark, alone.

In the quiet of the night, I gently brush the hair away from your face, and gaze upon your sparkling eyes, seeing the flame of love burning deep within you. You caress my cheek, then your lips are upon mine, pressing softly, gently, like a butterfly landing upon a flower. My arms slightly tighten their hold on you, but you do not seem to mind as the kiss extends, just like a certain part of me.

Slowly, I move a hand from your back, sliding it up to your shoulder, slithering up the side of your neck. The fingers gently toy with your hair, stroking the individual strands. You rest your head upon my shoulder, your grip on me tightening nicely as I pet you like a contented kitten, knowing full well that you could quickly turn into a ferocious tigress. But for now, you are docile, quiet, content to simply be petted and stroked, and I am just as content to simply pet you and stroke you.

Eventually, the same hand slowly descends your face, pausing long enough to catch your chin and lift your lips to mine for a soft kiss. As you again rest your head upon my shoulder, the hand glides lower, over your collarbone and slowly continuing its downward trek, following the gentle swell of a breast. Through your t-shirt, I trace the outline of the cup of your bra, a finger slowly moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, making no further attempt to descend to other areas of your pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, and you whimper softly before you kiss the side of my neck.

Back and forth, back and forth, but you move downward, sliding a hand down my own t-shirt, pausing briefly to finger my nipples through the garment. We kiss again, and this time, my hand rests fully upon your breast, squeezing rhythmically. I can feel the nipple - small and hard - trying to prick my palm despite the t-shirt and the bra you wear.

Those barriers will need to be removed.

Eventually.

For now, I am content to simply squeeze one of the visible signs of your femininity, content to feel you whimper softly into my mouth, content to feel your fingers now stroking along the length of my erection through my shorts and briefs.

Even when the kiss ends, the touches continue. I am already aware of the small drops of clear fluid at the tip of my manhood, so I am almost positive that a similar reaction is taking place inside your panties. We gaze into each other's eyes once again, and I am almost positive that I can see a single flame burning deep within you; that flame is an odd counterpoint to the "innocent schoolgirl" expression you give me, even as I fondle your chest, and I smile at the juxtaposition.

Are you thinking the same thing? Your smile would seem to indicate that you are.

My other hand now slips up your back, pausing to finger the clasp of your bra through the t-shirt. Yes, both garments must eventually be removed - perhaps by me, perhaps by you. In my mind's eye, I can already see you standing before me, topless, then straddling my legs as I sit on the sofa, graciously holding your feminine orbs to present them to me, leaning closer so that I can sample them with my lips and tease the nipples with my teeth.

But for now, I bring my free hand to your shoulder and move aside the neckline of your t-shirt. Gently, I nibble at the newly-exposed flesh; I even grab the bra strap with my teeth and tug gently, this as I squeeze your breast a little harder. I bite your shoulder a little harder, and a little harder, and a little harder, until you finally shudder just slightly and gasp past my ear - the very reaction I was hoping to elicit from you; the fact that you squeeze my throbbing hardness a bit tighter is essentially a "bonus" reaction, especially nice for me.

So I bite your shoulder again, even harder, just so I can listen to you gasp again, this time a little louder.

Slowly, I lick my way across to your collarbone, up your neck, across your cheek, and gently suck on your lower lip, but just briefly. Then your tongue knocks at my mouth, and I eagerly invite it inside to explore.

Your tongue is inside me, much like I would like to be inside you... but, of course, all in due time.

All in due time.

After briefly sucking on your tongue, I disengage, maneuvering you so that you lay across my lap, your head resting on the end of the sofa. I am certain that you can feel my hardness pressing into your side, just above the hip, but I doubt that you mind.

Reverently, I lift the base of your t-shirt, exposing your stomach to the flickering candlelight. I look into your eyes and drink in your smile as my hands gently stroke the newly-exposed skin, my touches light and slow, as if I were a young teenager exploring a girl's body for the very first time. I wonder what you would do if I were to reach over to the end table, lift a candle from its holder, and drip some of its hot wax upon your stomach? You know how I truly enjoy watching you squirm as candle wax is dripped upon your bare skin, especially as it slowly covers your breasts. But, alas, I cannot reach the candle without first dislodging you from your position across my lap.

My left hand lifts, landing upon your forehead to begin caressing your face. I trace along your lips with a finger, allowing you to eventually suck me into your mouth and tease me with your tongue. Your hands close around my hand and wrist, ensuring that the finger will remain in place as you suck and nibble and lick and tease.

My right hand slips over your shorts and cups you between the legs, squeezing gently. Very quickly, I establish a slow, sensual rhythm, matching the pace your mouth has set as your sucking actions cause my finger to slowly move within you. Your hips also begin to rise and fall in time with our silent music, meeting the added pressure of my hand's squeezing.

Another car rumbles along the street, but I can just barely hear it, as my attention is focused upon the beautiful young woman draped across me. I withdraw my finger from your mouth, and smile at your playful, disappointed pout. With one final squeeze between your legs, my hands move to your t-shirt, and move it slowly up your torso, ultimately revealing your bra: traditional white, the color of purity and innocence, contrasting with our not-so-innocent foreplay.

My hands knead your swells through the bra, feeling their heat. Your eyes are closed as you drink in the sensations, your lips parted slightly. My thumbs find your nipples through the cups of your bra and gently flick back and forth, purposely trying to make the small buds even harder and more sensitive.

You slip a hand between us, and start to unbuckle my belt. I know exactly what you are after, but nonetheless, I take my hands from your chest and retract your hand. At least for the moment, I just want you to feel, to experience, to enjoy. Allow me to touch you; allow me to demonstrate with my hands just how much care for and love you.

But you apparently want none of that - you obviously wish to take a more active role. You sit up in my lap, hugging me tightly as your lips focus upon my neck. My hands slip up underneath your t-shirt, scratching gently at your back just before I release the clasp of your bra - but not without a little bit of typical male difficulty. I feel your giggle against my neck as you continue to lick and kiss me there, but at least the clasp has been successfully released.

Then again, unlike you, it isn't every day that I find myself removing a bra.

Instinctively, you slither back a little, and together we remove your t-shirt, banishing it to the floor. As we kiss again, the bra follows, essentially exiled from our consciousness. You shift position to straddle my legs, our kiss not ending until you slowly rise on your knees, bringing your chest to the level of my face. You cradle my head as if I were a tiny newborn child, and I suckle gently, as if I could drink from you.

I may not be able to draw milk from you, but I do draw a soft, contented sigh. That is good enough for me, and more than enough to spurn me on. I only wish I had two heads, to gently please each nipple simultaneously.

Instead, one hand gently manipulates your unoccupied breast, while my other hand slides across your derrière. For a moment - just a moment - I think of the last spanking I gave you, in very different circumstances.

But, I decide, this is not the time for a spanking... unless you request it, of course. Instead, I content myself with grabbing the nipple between my teeth, biting you just enough to make you gasp, then tugging repeatedly as you moan softly above me, your fingers curling in my short hair.

I release your nipple and gently nudge you away. You seem to be a mind reader, as your hands instantly move to the bottom of my own t-shirt. I lean forward, away from the back of the sofa, and allow you to reveal my chest. My chest may not be quite as interesting as yours, but when you lean forward again and your chest touches mine, we both sigh happily as we share a long, heartfelt hug, with my t-shirt joining yours on the floor.

A dog barks quietly in the distance as your hips begin to move. You treat me to a lap dance, pressing your body against mine. There may be a lack of electricity in the neighborhood, but we seem to function quite nicely as generators, given the electricity building both within and between us. I have always enjoyed your touches, but to have practically your entire body continually brushing against mine is a particularly profound pleasure.

In time, you nudge me to my back upon the sofa, then lay upon me. Both of us now horizontal, you slowly move your hips upon me, your weight feeling quite nice as it rolls along and across my throbbing manhood. The feel of your breasts pressed firmly against my chest adds to the pleasure you are giving me. The sound of your breathing near my ear as you continue to slide yourself against me makes the scenario even more exciting.

Thanks to your selfless actions, it is now my turn to sigh contentedly and to whimper softly. My hands slide along your back, my fingertips tracing your spine, until they at last come to rest upon your lower cheeks.

Your body lurches against me as I spank you once, smiling at the soft grunt forced from your throat. Did you expect that? It sometimes seems that you know me almost better than I know myself, so you probably expected to be spanked in this position. Or, perhaps, is that why you wanted to lay upon me, to keep in maximum contact with me while providing a nice target for my hands? Is it because a spanking might make you feel better about doing "naughty girl things?"

I spank you again, harder. Again, the lurch; again, the grunt. I caress you through your shorts, and realize that you are not wearing panties - at least, not "normal" panties. Are you perhaps wearing a thong tonight? Or are you not wearing any underwear at all?

I spank you again, even harder. Yet again, your body lurches; yet again, you grunt in my ear. Even as my hands rest calmly upon you, your hips press into me with even more force, making me even harder.

I spank you again, and again, and again. We settle into a lewd and furious rhythm, the sofa squeaking in protest. You soon hump me furiously, gasping and grunting between heavy breaths; from my spanking and your humping, my breathing is just as labored. You clutch at my head, crying out, apparently not caring if anyone walking past the window can hear you, your sweet song thrilling me profoundly. I can easily imagine that your clitoris is getting quite a welcome workout, despite the clothing barring a true genital contact; I can only guess at the pleasure you are feeling, compared with the rapid spanking I am giving you.

You stiffen suddenly, your voice catching momentarily before you suddenly cry out somewhat loudly in my ear, yet I continue to spank you, although my pace slows greatly. Only now am I aware of the sweat upon us, but I certainly do not mind, although it would be nice if the breeze passing through the room were a little stronger. But you soon collapse upon me, your grasp upon me loosening as you pant heavily in my ear, a soft moan occasionally escaping your lips.

Perhaps I should have bought you the collar I saw recently with the word "Slut" emblazoned across the front in large white letters. After all, only a slut would truly enjoy a spanking during sexual activity.

Shall I spank you again, even before you calm from our activity just moments ago?

Well, perhaps not, since I am more than happy to hold you tightly as you slowly descend from your orgasmic peak. My hands glide across your now-wet back, my fingernails scratching you gently. You occasionally shudder upon me or whimper in my ear, and I smile to myself, my eyes closed as I simply enjoy your presence.

We lay there on the sofa, together, for a long, long time. My hands roam your body, occasionally stroking your head or gently patting your lower cheeks. In time, you lift your head from my shoulder, slowly placing gentle kisses upon my face. But eventually, you slide off me, kneeling on the floor, and begin to work at my belt.

Simply knowing what you want to do next is enough to cause my erection to begin to grow anew. I sit up, leaning back on the sofa, and allow you to unbuckle the belt, unbutton and unzip my shorts, and slowly work the final garments simultaneously from my body. I finally sit nude before you, and you place yourself between my legs, looking up at me with a sweet, seductive smile as your hands fondle my lengthening shaft. Already, I can picture your face splattered with my essence, my seed dripping obscenely off your nose and chin. I reach out to you, gently stroking your cheek for several long moments before I finally guide your head downward.

The first touch of your tongue upon my dripping tip is enough to send a small electric charge through my body. Holding my thick shaft reverently, you massage me with your tongue, relaxing me even as you further excite me. I lean back on the sofa and close my eyes to better focus on the pleasure you are giving me. Reaching out to you, I stroke your head gently, lovingly, deeply immersed in the wet warmth of your mouth. A particular flick of your tongue causes me to gasp somewhat loudly; you do it again, and again, and again, each time eliciting a similar response from me, and I can feel your lips smile around the oral invader as my hands now guide the movements of your head, this as your hands slither up my torso to toy with my nipples.

Then, suddenly, you push away from me, breathing quickly as you scramble to your feet and shed the final remnants of your clothing: your shorts, and your favorite black thong. We are now both completely naked, drinking in the sight of each other, each of us waiting for the other to make the next step.

I stand, and our arms quickly encircle each other, my throbbing manhood pressed tightly between us as our lips join. I am only vaguely aware of another vehicle on the street, of the flickering candlelight as a stronger breeze passes between the open windows. Together, we dance, sensuously, slowly, to music only we can hear, our bodies pressing even tighter, our hands roaming dangerously, our lips practically fused together. Only one thing can possibly bring us even closer than we already are.

I turn us around, then back you against the sofa. You take the hint and sit, then your mouth engulfs me once more. I had intended to enter you elsewhere, but I am certainly not about to complain as your head bobs upon me again.

An idea comes to mind, and I grab fistfuls of your hair. Holding your head still, I slowly slide deeper and deeper into your mouth, wondering if you might be able to deepthroat me. I sense your panic as you realize what I am trying, and back out. You look up at me with love and nervousness, but I enter you once more, moving a little quicker, stopping only when I feel the back of your throat. Your squeal of nervousness resonates through me, but I can tell that you are far too nervous to enjoy even the attempt of deepthroating me, so I back out completely, and motion for you to lay down on the sofa.

Kneeling beside the sofa, my lips find yours, and I can feel your nervousness melt away as we kiss. I can also feel your extreme wetness as a single finger probes between your legs. I feel your body shudder as the fingernail gently scrapes across the tip of your clitoris, and I wonder how many times I might be able to bring you to orgasm before you knock me to the floor and pounce upon me like a tigress in heat.

Just that thought alone makes me smile as my lips begin a trail down your neck and to your chest.

The wet sloshing sounds are unmistakable as I penetrate you with a pair of fingers; the soft sultry sounds escaping your lips are also unmistakable. As my lips encircle a hardened nipple, I feel your fingers in my hair, stroking me gently as I continue to please you as best as I can.

You yelp softly as I bite your nipple, tugging with my teeth. I bite again, just a little harder, and your fingers curl against my skull as another soft cry escapes your lips. As my teeth continue to bite you all over your chest, my fingers plunge ever deeper inside you, ultimately brushing against your cervix even as the thumb continually flicks across your clitoris.

For an unknown length of time, I keep you in this strange limbo of sweet pleasure and gentle pain. Simply listening to your vocalizations is enough to keep my erection long and hard. I could play your body like an instrument for at least an hour - after all, I have done this to you before - but another part of me desperately wants to nestle itself inside you.

An idea comes to mind, and suddenly, I leave you completely - panting loudly, moaning softly, chest heaving as your body continues to tremble subtly. Your eyes are closed as you remain lost in your own realm of ecstasy, your hands tantalizing your own sweat-dampened skin. As I quietly rise and step toward my goal, I keep an eye upon you, drinking in your radiant beauty, inhaling the unmistakable scent of your sweet arousal as it lingers in the air; quickly sniffing my fingers, the scent naturally intensifies. Then I grab my prize and quickly but quietly return to you, easily slipping my fingers inside you once again and making you groan at the renewed penetration.

This time, there is no mercy; I fuck you brutally with my fingers, the thumb pressing hard as it strokes your clitoris. Within seconds, your body is in perpetual motion upon the sofa, fucking my fingers as quickly as you can move. You clutch at the sofa, threatening to rip the upholstering as your cries become louder and louder; I doubt anyone in the passing vehicle can hear you, but anyone passing by on the sidewalk will certainly have an earful of your passionate song.

You stiffen, and just as your orgasm surges through your consciousness, I tip the object in my other hand...

...and empty the contents of a long-lit canned candle upon your breast, the sudden contrast of sensations leaving you voiceless.

Quickly, I set the can aside and replace my fingers with another part of my anatomy, plunging into you quickly. Your eyes are open, but I doubt that you can (consciously) see anything. Your lips are open wide, yet no sound emerges. In the dimness, the red wax upon your pale skin looks obscene - even more obscene than the sight of my body joined with yours.