The door swung shut beneath them on hotel hinges, but they barely noticed. They were entwined in arms, kissing, lips meeting lips. Long anticipation had boiled under them for ages, for hours that felt like years, and their appetites begged; now those appetites would finally be sated.
A day of soaring travel had brought them here to this waterbound paradise, where palms nodded in the wind and the sun made the white beaches glow with ecstatic joy each morning. The warm embrace of sunlight, the breathing of the waves ... they had gloried in these things all day, blessed with them, blessed with each other. She could not remember being in a more beautiful place; he could not remember being in better company. They had never traveled together before, but they felt made for each other, felt as if all this had been made for them.
His arms around her were something she knew, a familiar thing in this vast sea of endless beauty. But they were new too, changed in the light of this alien moon, floating in its ocean of star-speckled night. His arms, his lips, the heat between his legs ... they seemed transformed to her, renewed by their surroundings.
He drew her to him, his lips seeking hers, his arms cradling her. She had always been beautiful to him, but in moonglow and tropical air like warm breath it went beyond that. Her beauty was no longer a noticeable thing; now it was just a truth, like water. He could no more doubt his love for her than his breath.
Her hands reached up to stroke at the sides of his face; and then she drew him down to nibble at his ear, her touch like drops of water. He smiled even as the breath went out of him in a rush, that she knew so well what to do to his body. His arms tightened around her, drawing her in, urging her on.
She pulled back, a grin sparkling on her face, and ran her hands up under his shirt. He let her disrobe him, and then began to divest her of her own clothing. Her skin was pliant under his fingers, warm, soft, glowing like snow in the silver moonlight. She gave a sigh of pleasure as his fingers brushed across her skin; even that slight contact made her shiver.
His eyes shining, he began to back away from her, towards the bed; she gave him a smile as she pursued, letting her hips sway, leaving their clothes pooled on the floor behind them. She felt herself in the silver night: her skin tingling; her hair in a cascade across her shoulders, trapping warm air against her neck; the bristle of the carpet under her toes; the sand under her nails; the ache in her nipples, already half-erect, and the faint sliding beneath her of her nether lips rubbing against each other with every step. He was in front of her, the broad muscles of his chest kissed by silver moonlight, his member already half-erect. She felt his eyes on her skin, burning, caressing, drinking her up.
She knew he would expect her to lean up and kiss him, so instead she went down his body, sliding her hands and breasts down across his body until she knelt before him, his manhood level with her mouth, the carpet itching under her calves. He gave an incoherent noise as she sucked him into her mouth--somewhere between an exclamation and an exhalation--and brought his hands up to rest on her head. His cock was still somewhat flaccid: warm, but soft, the head still spongy. It was a different texture than she was used to, and she decided to enjoy it while it lasted. It wouldn't last long.
He gave another sigh as she gathered more of him into her mouth, her tongue already darting out to taste further down his shaft. He had had blowjobs before her, and women before her, but somehow it seemed that nobody had ever equaled her touch, her deftness. Pleasure broke over him, drawing a tingle of sweat from his skin, as her tongue began to lave up and down his shaft, stroking the ridge below, even kissing his wrinkled sac with the tip of her tongue. She couldn't reach it for long, of course, since his cock was longer than her mouth was, but she made the best of it.
As though a switch had been flipped on, he saw himself now, as he was: here, in this sun-washed paradise, the air warm around him like the breath of a lover; here, this woman before him, naked, glowing in the moonlight, kneeling, wanton, her eyes and mouth and face and body, her whole being, focused on his pleasure. The sound of the waves caressing the shore slid in through the open windows; moonlight drenched the curtains in a misty silver. And he was in her mouth; he was aware of every inch of his cock, of every bump and vein, and of the touch of her tongue. He felt it perusing gently down his shaft--the bump on the left, the scar of his circumcision, and then the ridge around the back of his head, a feather-touch of wetness rimming it round. And then the spongy, bumpy head of his cock, moistened now by her tongue as it meandered, finding the hole, flicking it gently before sliding down underneath.
Her lips closed around his shaft at the rim of his head, solid now and full of warmth, and her magic tongue continued its work, planting little guppy kisses all over it. Then she swallowed him whole, milking his shaft with her lips in a ring around it, sliding up and down as it firmed. Soon she had it to its fullness. He heard another moan escape him as her tongue went to work in earnest, sliding up and down his shaft, looping around it, sending waves of shivers down his spine. Each touch, each lick, each motion, drove the pressure upwards, drove the building ecstasy that threatened to overflow.
She knew he wasn't going to last long; they had been teasing each other all day, circling round each other like dancers, hands on flesh. She knew the fires that boiled beneath him. Still he surprised her: it wasn't long at all before his pleasure spilled over. She heard his breath catch, felt him stiffen; he felt the infinitesimal sensation of the dam breaking within him. And then it was pouring over, as his body jerked in delirium, his pleasure gushing through him in waves and torrents, his whole body it seemed being drained out through his member into her waiting mouth, as he moaned and spurted and shook, his balls discharging, clenching themselves into exhaustion, until he was spent and rocked back on his heels, his whole concentration (what remained of it) going into staying upright, and she tasted the rush of salt in her mouth, and smiled to herself, and swallowed.
She kissed her way up his body, taking her time, giving him a chance to recover. She let her lips trail over his body, little guppy kisses slowly working their way upwards. She knew these little bits of stimulation wouldn't be much compared to what she had just done to him; maybe he couldn't feel them at all. But she loved him, and that was more than enough reason to do it anyway.
But still, she was surprised when his arms snaked under her shoulders, lifting her to her feet involuntarily. His lips mashed against hers, passionate, demanding; she tasted the lust there, in his aggressiveness, in his tongue in her mouth, in the seawater taste of his seed. His chest was hard against her breasts and nipples, his heart beating strong and fast; his arms were like iron bands around her. Barely had she had time to snake her arms around him than he was drawing her away from him, casting her down.
Now she found herself face-first on the bed, sprawled, her bottom upturned, spraddle-legged from the unexpectedness of her impact. Her back tingled in the evening air, and rough cotton scratched under the soft skin of her belly. Her pussy lips parted were parted now, slightly wet; already she could feel the dull red of her desire down below. There was hair in her face, in her eyes, across her shoulders; she was reminded of an abandoned tangle of seaweed belched up on the sand, green strands in all directions.
She knew he was strong, but it wasn't something she thought about much; but now she realized that she was totally at her mercy—here, in this wet air, ass upturned and her legs opened down the front of the bed. And suddenly she realized just what an enjoyable thing that might be.
He was standing behind her, surveying all that was his: the arch of her back, the shapes of her shoulder blades under her skin, the warm curves of her ass that hid her underslung opening. He could picture it in his mind's eye, pink and deep and inviting. If he'd been hard, he might've plunged in right there; but he was not, and anyway he had a different tack in mind. He lowered himself to his knees, feeling the bite of the carpet as she had moments before, and began to kiss the soft skin on the back of her thighs.
Her body was a place of worship to him, a place of love and devotion. This was not the first time he had paid homage at her temple, but something was different today. Perhaps it was the environs, the sultry sun and endless waves. Perhaps it was the leisure and languor with which they had spent their day. The teasing and flirting—had that done it? It was not for him to know or say. But he was happy to use it to his advantage.
He laid a trail of kisses along her leg, taking care to find the sensitive spots no one ever touched: the inside of her knee, the crease of her buttock, the tender skin on the inside of her thigh (as much of it as he could reach, with her legs together like so). Her skin was warm to the touch, and startlingly soft, and fragrant as well: the faint smell of sweat, of the seawater they'd splashed in; the warm red scent of her skin. And over it all, faint but growing, was the musk of her arousal. Her breathing had thickened by the time he switched over to her other leg; by the time he had completed his journey up and down it, she was squirming on the bed.
He permitted himself a single grin.
It might've been better for her to move straight on in and get to work, but he wanted to tease her, to entice her, to draw out her desire. He began to scatter kisses across her buttocks, tasting the soft, pliant flesh there, and the skin at the small of her back.
A day of soaring travel had brought them here to this waterbound paradise, where palms nodded in the wind and the sun made the white beaches glow with ecstatic joy each morning. The warm embrace of sunlight, the breathing of the waves ... they had gloried in these things all day, blessed with them, blessed with each other. She could not remember being in a more beautiful place; he could not remember being in better company. They had never traveled together before, but they felt made for each other, felt as if all this had been made for them.
His arms around her were something she knew, a familiar thing in this vast sea of endless beauty. But they were new too, changed in the light of this alien moon, floating in its ocean of star-speckled night. His arms, his lips, the heat between his legs ... they seemed transformed to her, renewed by their surroundings.
He drew her to him, his lips seeking hers, his arms cradling her. She had always been beautiful to him, but in moonglow and tropical air like warm breath it went beyond that. Her beauty was no longer a noticeable thing; now it was just a truth, like water. He could no more doubt his love for her than his breath.
Her hands reached up to stroke at the sides of his face; and then she drew him down to nibble at his ear, her touch like drops of water. He smiled even as the breath went out of him in a rush, that she knew so well what to do to his body. His arms tightened around her, drawing her in, urging her on.
She pulled back, a grin sparkling on her face, and ran her hands up under his shirt. He let her disrobe him, and then began to divest her of her own clothing. Her skin was pliant under his fingers, warm, soft, glowing like snow in the silver moonlight. She gave a sigh of pleasure as his fingers brushed across her skin; even that slight contact made her shiver.
His eyes shining, he began to back away from her, towards the bed; she gave him a smile as she pursued, letting her hips sway, leaving their clothes pooled on the floor behind them. She felt herself in the silver night: her skin tingling; her hair in a cascade across her shoulders, trapping warm air against her neck; the bristle of the carpet under her toes; the sand under her nails; the ache in her nipples, already half-erect, and the faint sliding beneath her of her nether lips rubbing against each other with every step. He was in front of her, the broad muscles of his chest kissed by silver moonlight, his member already half-erect. She felt his eyes on her skin, burning, caressing, drinking her up.
She knew he would expect her to lean up and kiss him, so instead she went down his body, sliding her hands and breasts down across his body until she knelt before him, his manhood level with her mouth, the carpet itching under her calves. He gave an incoherent noise as she sucked him into her mouth--somewhere between an exclamation and an exhalation--and brought his hands up to rest on her head. His cock was still somewhat flaccid: warm, but soft, the head still spongy. It was a different texture than she was used to, and she decided to enjoy it while it lasted. It wouldn't last long.
He gave another sigh as she gathered more of him into her mouth, her tongue already darting out to taste further down his shaft. He had had blowjobs before her, and women before her, but somehow it seemed that nobody had ever equaled her touch, her deftness. Pleasure broke over him, drawing a tingle of sweat from his skin, as her tongue began to lave up and down his shaft, stroking the ridge below, even kissing his wrinkled sac with the tip of her tongue. She couldn't reach it for long, of course, since his cock was longer than her mouth was, but she made the best of it.
As though a switch had been flipped on, he saw himself now, as he was: here, in this sun-washed paradise, the air warm around him like the breath of a lover; here, this woman before him, naked, glowing in the moonlight, kneeling, wanton, her eyes and mouth and face and body, her whole being, focused on his pleasure. The sound of the waves caressing the shore slid in through the open windows; moonlight drenched the curtains in a misty silver. And he was in her mouth; he was aware of every inch of his cock, of every bump and vein, and of the touch of her tongue. He felt it perusing gently down his shaft--the bump on the left, the scar of his circumcision, and then the ridge around the back of his head, a feather-touch of wetness rimming it round. And then the spongy, bumpy head of his cock, moistened now by her tongue as it meandered, finding the hole, flicking it gently before sliding down underneath.
Her lips closed around his shaft at the rim of his head, solid now and full of warmth, and her magic tongue continued its work, planting little guppy kisses all over it. Then she swallowed him whole, milking his shaft with her lips in a ring around it, sliding up and down as it firmed. Soon she had it to its fullness. He heard another moan escape him as her tongue went to work in earnest, sliding up and down his shaft, looping around it, sending waves of shivers down his spine. Each touch, each lick, each motion, drove the pressure upwards, drove the building ecstasy that threatened to overflow.
She knew he wasn't going to last long; they had been teasing each other all day, circling round each other like dancers, hands on flesh. She knew the fires that boiled beneath him. Still he surprised her: it wasn't long at all before his pleasure spilled over. She heard his breath catch, felt him stiffen; he felt the infinitesimal sensation of the dam breaking within him. And then it was pouring over, as his body jerked in delirium, his pleasure gushing through him in waves and torrents, his whole body it seemed being drained out through his member into her waiting mouth, as he moaned and spurted and shook, his balls discharging, clenching themselves into exhaustion, until he was spent and rocked back on his heels, his whole concentration (what remained of it) going into staying upright, and she tasted the rush of salt in her mouth, and smiled to herself, and swallowed.
She kissed her way up his body, taking her time, giving him a chance to recover. She let her lips trail over his body, little guppy kisses slowly working their way upwards. She knew these little bits of stimulation wouldn't be much compared to what she had just done to him; maybe he couldn't feel them at all. But she loved him, and that was more than enough reason to do it anyway.
But still, she was surprised when his arms snaked under her shoulders, lifting her to her feet involuntarily. His lips mashed against hers, passionate, demanding; she tasted the lust there, in his aggressiveness, in his tongue in her mouth, in the seawater taste of his seed. His chest was hard against her breasts and nipples, his heart beating strong and fast; his arms were like iron bands around her. Barely had she had time to snake her arms around him than he was drawing her away from him, casting her down.
Now she found herself face-first on the bed, sprawled, her bottom upturned, spraddle-legged from the unexpectedness of her impact. Her back tingled in the evening air, and rough cotton scratched under the soft skin of her belly. Her pussy lips parted were parted now, slightly wet; already she could feel the dull red of her desire down below. There was hair in her face, in her eyes, across her shoulders; she was reminded of an abandoned tangle of seaweed belched up on the sand, green strands in all directions.
She knew he was strong, but it wasn't something she thought about much; but now she realized that she was totally at her mercy—here, in this wet air, ass upturned and her legs opened down the front of the bed. And suddenly she realized just what an enjoyable thing that might be.
He was standing behind her, surveying all that was his: the arch of her back, the shapes of her shoulder blades under her skin, the warm curves of her ass that hid her underslung opening. He could picture it in his mind's eye, pink and deep and inviting. If he'd been hard, he might've plunged in right there; but he was not, and anyway he had a different tack in mind. He lowered himself to his knees, feeling the bite of the carpet as she had moments before, and began to kiss the soft skin on the back of her thighs.
Her body was a place of worship to him, a place of love and devotion. This was not the first time he had paid homage at her temple, but something was different today. Perhaps it was the environs, the sultry sun and endless waves. Perhaps it was the leisure and languor with which they had spent their day. The teasing and flirting—had that done it? It was not for him to know or say. But he was happy to use it to his advantage.
He laid a trail of kisses along her leg, taking care to find the sensitive spots no one ever touched: the inside of her knee, the crease of her buttock, the tender skin on the inside of her thigh (as much of it as he could reach, with her legs together like so). Her skin was warm to the touch, and startlingly soft, and fragrant as well: the faint smell of sweat, of the seawater they'd splashed in; the warm red scent of her skin. And over it all, faint but growing, was the musk of her arousal. Her breathing had thickened by the time he switched over to her other leg; by the time he had completed his journey up and down it, she was squirming on the bed.
He permitted himself a single grin.
It might've been better for her to move straight on in and get to work, but he wanted to tease her, to entice her, to draw out her desire. He began to scatter kisses across her buttocks, tasting the soft, pliant flesh there, and the skin at the small of her back.