Sometimes, the touch of a lover’s body is sweet enough.

He brought me to orgasm, using his hand and his mouth, and it was blissful. Now, my body is relaxed and languid. My muscles have eased and are warm and pliant.

It is his turn.

I lie on my back. My sex is wet. Lovely and slick.

My body has sunk deep into the blanket. My legs are open. He comes over me. His hands are gentle and purposeful and loving. His mouth is warm and wet. His kisses tell me how pleased he is with himself.

He should be.

I am.

He kisses my breasts. My neck. My mouth.

His body is comfortably heavy on mine. Our skins feel wonderful together.

He settles between my legs and reaches down for one more feel, smiling at his work before he guides his cock inside me.

It is his turn.

I wrap my arms and legs around him as he begins to move. His breathing intensifies and he kisses my mouth, taking my breath as well. I curl my fingers into his hair and hold his head, kissing him back, exploring his mouth with my tongue in the way I know he loves.

He moves. His hips rock up and down. Back and forth.

He is taking his pleasure of my body, and my body finds pleasure in that.

The sounds of his intensified breathing and his slight moans make my body respond, wanting to envelop him even more fully.  I bury my face in his neck, kissing the skin there, and let my hands explore his arms and back and buttocks….wherever they can reach. His mouth is next to my ear and I can hear all of his pleasure as clearly as I can feel it.

He groans but he takes his time, slowing down to make it last longer. He pulls almost all the way out of me and pauses, breathing purposefully, controlling his body. Then, he pushes in to me again. Long, slow, thrusts. In. Out. Smooth. Steady. Stimulating. So stimulating! My hips respond, rolling up and down to meet his thrusts. The sensations of skin on skin and sweat-slick friction cover me.

It is his turn, and it feels wonderful.

His body stiffens and his movements increase in speed as he finds his way, building towards climax. He takes his weight onto his arms and lifts up his chest. Shorter, harder strokes now. He grunts with his own effort and his face makes that expression that is so him. I can read his pleasure. I can see exactly what he is feeling and I love it. Holding my hips up at that perfect angle for his entry, I finish his strokes with firm pushes of my own.

This is right. This is good. Our bodies know each other. It is his turn and I am happy for him to have it.

He cries out as he reaches orgasm and I can feel him pulsing, deep and hard, spilling his pleasure inside me.

Then, those last few shuddering strokes, those last few groans as his pleasure subsides and his body releases the tension of his orgasm.

He breathes out and settles onto me, kissing my neck. I stroke his arm. His weight on me is heavy and perfect.

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