her most sensitive erogenous zones, the area of her abdomen just above her dark bush. Holding her breath, she reached behind her head and grasped the sofa cushion tight, moaning as spasms wracked her body.
Nick moved up her torso, cleaning her roughly with his tongue, his teeth; reveling in her throaty moans, in her quick, quivering gasps when he nipped her flesh. She laced her fingers behind his head, drawing him to her breast. The tips of her nipples beckoned, seeming to plead with him to suck them. He did. Michelle lost herself in the erotic sensation of his rough tongue laving her nipples, the tingling suction. She urged him on—“Suck me. Yes, suck me!”—and he sucked harder and harder, until her nipples were purple and lightning bolts of pleasure danced in her crotch. She writhed on the couch. “My pussy’s throbbing, Nick! Please, please fuck me.” He jerked her jeans forcefully down over her hips, unzipping his pants and pushing them down just enough to free himself, his invading cock quenching her erotic anguish. They were both so close to orgasm that he was only able to thrust a couple of times before they cried out together in one exuberant, energy-sapping release.
Exhausted, they lay limp and trembling on the couch. Nick encircled Michelle with his arms, and she snuggled against him. He ran his fingers slowly through her hair as the rapid beat of their hearts settled.
* * * * *
Michelle woke with a weight on her chest, aching muscles, and painfully throbbing nipples. When she realized that the weight was Nick’s arm, the night’s culmination came rushing back and she smiled in remembrance. She had given him her song—Angela’s song—as a gift. And he had said he loved her.
She hadn’t consciously admitted it to herself until last night, but she was in love with him, too. Had been since the very first time their eyes met, though she’d often sneered at people who said they believed in love at first sight.
She lifted his heavy arm aside gently, trying not to disturb him. Despite her careful movements, he awakened with a grunt, peering groggily about. “I’m going to take a shower,” she murmured. Nick nodded, and she slipped away.
Nick watched Michelle’s bare bottom wiggle enticingly as she climbed the stairs. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning.
Michelle stood in the shower, facing the spray, enjoying the feel of the warm liquid cascading over her throbbing nipples. She heard a rustle behind her. She turned, and the shower curtain moved aside, admitting Nick’s bronzed, athletic body.God, he really is built, she thought. He picked up the bar of soap in the holder and took the sponge from her hands, soaping it until he had created a rich, thick lather.
Gently, he washed her neck, her chest, her breasts. She yelped as he came to the first sore nipple. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is this better?” He held the sponge so that it was barely touching the swollen bud, then moved it in a slow, circular motion.
“Mmmmm, yes.” Michelle closed her eyes. “Yes, that’svery good,” she purred.
After several moments spent ministering to her sensitive nipples, he proceeded to lather her torso, slowly working his way to her waist. Then he knelt and, instead of touching her where she longed to be touched, lathered her feet, her ankles, her calves. “Nick,” she admonished.
“What?” he asked innocently.
She leaned back against the wall and spread her legs invitingly. “You know what I want.”
Nick grinned and reached up with the sponge, rubbing it firmly down over her clit and across her vagina, then up. Down, then up. Michelle moaned. Nick twisted the sponge into a tight cone, slipping the tip up into her, then using his fingers to pack it into her pussy. “Oh,” Michelle breathed. They’d had sex so often, done so many things in the past few days, that her tissues were raw, and the soap created a stinging sensation that perversely served to heighten her arousal.
Nick moved up her torso, cleaning her roughly with his tongue, his teeth; reveling in her throaty moans, in her quick, quivering gasps when he nipped her flesh. She laced her fingers behind his head, drawing him to her breast. The tips of her nipples beckoned, seeming to plead with him to suck them. He did. Michelle lost herself in the erotic sensation of his rough tongue laving her nipples, the tingling suction. She urged him on—“Suck me. Yes, suck me!”—and he sucked harder and harder, until her nipples were purple and lightning bolts of pleasure danced in her crotch. She writhed on the couch. “My pussy’s throbbing, Nick! Please, please fuck me.” He jerked her jeans forcefully down over her hips, unzipping his pants and pushing them down just enough to free himself, his invading cock quenching her erotic anguish. They were both so close to orgasm that he was only able to thrust a couple of times before they cried out together in one exuberant, energy-sapping release.
Exhausted, they lay limp and trembling on the couch. Nick encircled Michelle with his arms, and she snuggled against him. He ran his fingers slowly through her hair as the rapid beat of their hearts settled.
* * * * *
Michelle woke with a weight on her chest, aching muscles, and painfully throbbing nipples. When she realized that the weight was Nick’s arm, the night’s culmination came rushing back and she smiled in remembrance. She had given him her song—Angela’s song—as a gift. And he had said he loved her.
She hadn’t consciously admitted it to herself until last night, but she was in love with him, too. Had been since the very first time their eyes met, though she’d often sneered at people who said they believed in love at first sight.
She lifted his heavy arm aside gently, trying not to disturb him. Despite her careful movements, he awakened with a grunt, peering groggily about. “I’m going to take a shower,” she murmured. Nick nodded, and she slipped away.
Nick watched Michelle’s bare bottom wiggle enticingly as she climbed the stairs. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning.
Michelle stood in the shower, facing the spray, enjoying the feel of the warm liquid cascading over her throbbing nipples. She heard a rustle behind her. She turned, and the shower curtain moved aside, admitting Nick’s bronzed, athletic body.God, he really is built, she thought. He picked up the bar of soap in the holder and took the sponge from her hands, soaping it until he had created a rich, thick lather.
Gently, he washed her neck, her chest, her breasts. She yelped as he came to the first sore nipple. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is this better?” He held the sponge so that it was barely touching the swollen bud, then moved it in a slow, circular motion.
“Mmmmm, yes.” Michelle closed her eyes. “Yes, that’svery good,” she purred.
After several moments spent ministering to her sensitive nipples, he proceeded to lather her torso, slowly working his way to her waist. Then he knelt and, instead of touching her where she longed to be touched, lathered her feet, her ankles, her calves. “Nick,” she admonished.
“What?” he asked innocently.
She leaned back against the wall and spread her legs invitingly. “You know what I want.”
Nick grinned and reached up with the sponge, rubbing it firmly down over her clit and across her vagina, then up. Down, then up. Michelle moaned. Nick twisted the sponge into a tight cone, slipping the tip up into her, then using his fingers to pack it into her pussy. “Oh,” Michelle breathed. They’d had sex so often, done so many things in the past few days, that her tissues were raw, and the soap created a stinging sensation that perversely served to heighten her arousal.
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