A Sexy Story, a short story by BlueLamp. Date added: 2010-09-14. Times viewed: 30406.
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- Intro: A story committed to appreciating all the details during sex that are, at the time, often overlooked. M/F, Oral
This story will be sexy. And I will write it. It is not necessarily real, but it might be later. And there is a strong chance that it will be primarily based off of things that I predict to happen. Another note: It will take on the perspective of the man, because that is my perspective, and I know that one much better. Also, in my experience being a man, I’ve noticed that there are lots of details that you might want to stop to talk about, but you can’t because it would take too much time, or might simply be too awkward to say in the heat of the moment.
But although the story will be sexy, it will not start at the penis entering the vagina. That would be a cheap sort of story. Almost comparable to reading about an encounter with a prostitute. The story will have a little bit more introduction, because it is not similar to an encounter with a prostitute. It is an encounter with a beautiful woman. An encounter between two people who care for each other and are passionate together. This moment does not take place during a fresh new relationship. It takes place quite some time after the two have come to love each other, after many sexy stories have already passed. This particular sexy story will not be much unlike those other sexy stories, but it is different because it is being put to paper. The paper format allows the story to be timeless, and every detail can be given the proper amount of attention, and it may be expressed in a way that is different from typical.
“AH AH AH AH AH AH,” cackled SpongeBob through the television. It’s the middle of the day, and my girlfriend and I have the house to ourselves. We sit together on the couch, my arm around her shoulder. The show comes to a commercial and I realize my attention has been nowhere. I glance at my girlfriend, who, from this angle, her short, dark brown hair is mainly the only visible feature of her head. My eyes lower, and I note that she is wearing a camisole. Actually, I had already noted that much earlier, but from this angle, I note what’s in the camisole. Her breasts are a perfect roundness, and appear smooth as fresh sheets. An inkling of temptation has been spurred in me, and I am almost tempted to tell her, “You’re boobs look awesome right now,” but that isn’t what you would call a heart-winning line. Instead, I touch her opposite cheek and pull her lips toward me so that I may kiss her.
She probably only expected a peck, but I pressed my lips firmly against hers for several seconds. Her lips are most comparable to flower petals. I released the kiss, but I held her from turning away from me. “You’re lips are like flower petals” (I decided that one was romantic enough to vocalize). I watched as her cheeks rose. Our faces were so near to each other that I had to peer downward to see the tips of her lips turn upward and expose a smile. She allowed me another kiss, and then turned back to a more comfortable seating position.
As wonderful a kiss as that was, I was eager for more. My arm was still around her shoulder, and I squeezed her tight. My goal was to subtly let her know what I was thinking, and with more class than grabbing her in certain areas or forcing my tongue into her mouth. The squeeze might have been too subtle, though, because I felt air escape her lungs as if she was chuckling (although I couldn’t hear it), but she did nothing more.
A few moments pass. Then, very suddenly, I start kissing the back of her head repeatedly, working my way around; over her ear, onto her cheek, then along her jaw line. She giggles once more, just barely audibly this time, but it’s possible that my kisses are simply tickling her. Suddenly I realize that I want to hear more laughter. I squeeze my hand down, between her back and the couch so that my hand is at her side. I slip it just slightly beneath her camisole, and lightly drag my fingers across her side in a repetitive, almost finger drumming, sort of way.
It didn’t have the effect that I was aiming for though. “Stop it,” she says lightly, as she scratches her hand where mine was, “You’re making me itch.” Apparently she isn’t feeling very ticklish. But by this point, I have taken a gander at her bosom, pressed our lips together, and felt her satin skin beneath my fingers: I am craving her. My mind is set. I start trying to think of ways that might turn her on; attempt to let her see my craving and share it. Romance isn’t easy at this point in the relationship though. Everything’s been done, and I really have to wow her to get past the bar that I’ve already set. While trying to think of something romantic, my mind fades of thought as my eyes wander back to the television.
The commercials return quickly, and release my attention once more.
“Do you want to read that story I wrote?” I ask her.
She lets in a pause while she remembers what I’m talking about. Then she asks, “You actually wrote it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s pretty good. Kinda’ romantic… Very sexy.”
She laughs at me. “Heh heh….. Mmm… Now?”
“Yeah,” I insist. “Why not?”
“Uhhh….” She ponders. “Alright,” somehow skeptical that ‘now’ is the best time.
Yes! Now I am sure that when she reads my sexy story she will be turned on. She will see all the wonderful details that I have put in. All the little thoughts that I have that she doesn’t necessarily know about. Out of context, they can be rude and inappropriate; but in context, like in a story for example, she will find them cute, and the dedication to write such a story will be seen as romantic. I am certain that she will pounce upon me when she reads all the wonderful things I think about her, but don’t necessarily say.
It took me eight hours to write, but only takes her ten minutes to read. In that time, she laughed, awed, questioned me, laughed again, and gasped. During (almost) the whole time, she smiled.
“Wow.” She says. “That was hot.” laughing at her own sarcasm.
“Yes.” I say, ignoring her sarcasm. “Also a little romantic, -don’t forget romantic.”
“Mmm,” Is the agreeing sound she makes as she pushes the laptop away from her so that she may stand up. Then she bends over and grants me a kiss. “Were you hoping for me to do what I do in your story?”
“Maybe,” I announce with a tone that denies any indication that “maybe” could possibly mean “no.”
“Well I guess I should change into the clothes in the story, huh?”
“I’ll be waiting,” I tell her. I watch her profile disappear into the next room. There’s not a whole lot that is similar to the anticipation of sex. There’s not always opportunity to anticipate it, because often you jump straight into it as soon as you know that it’s going to happen. But when you know it will happen, but have to wait, -for a change of attire, for example- it’s a wonderfully torturous experience. Nothing is as suspenseful as something you deeply want being held right in front of you; especially if it is within arms reach, but worrying that it may retract if you reach for it too soon. On the other hand, it’s something that you will gladly wait for, because when it does finally come into your hands, it is so sweet.
After a couple minutes, I became distracted once more by the television, but not because my attention span is horrible or inappropriate. I allowed myself to be distracted so that the time would seem to pass faster. And it worked! Or at least, until it came to the commercials again. At this point, I wondered what was taking her so long. I got up and knocked on our bedroom door.
“Come in,” I heard a familiar voice in a private tone say. I did.
OH. Sorry. I was staring at my mouthwatering girlfriend for a few moments. I forgot I had to write this story. This is the sexy part, by the way. Let me see if I can describe her:
She lay on her side upon the bed, with her head in her hand, and elbow digging into the blankets. She had put on some make up which made her eyes even more prominent than usual. They seem enlarged, making their deep brown more noticeable, which by contrast increased the vibrancy of light that reflected from their corners. She had put blush in her cheeks, but it’s subtle and was blended in well. She put a very dark red over her lips, so that my eyes are drawn to them amongst her light, perfect skin. She had also put her hair into a pony tail for me, because she knows I like it and that’s how it was in the story. Her hair is short, but the pony tail still exemplifies her youth and unquenchable beauty. She doesn’t often wear pony tails, though, so she left parts of her super-dark brown hair to fall around her ears and forehead to keep herself looking familiar.
Her arms are bare until the shoulders, which have a trap loosely lying upon each of them. I follow the straps with my eyes, which lead me down to the top of her nightgown. It’s solid black, first covering her breasts. The nightgown doesn’t show a lot of her bosom, but it is extremely flattering to her shape. I can see the form of her bust pushing the gown from her chest, until it recedes to her stomach and follows her body toward her hips.
The light that bounces from the folds in the pure black nightgown nearly distracts me from the dip in her side, between her bust and hips; a perfect curvature found upon nothing less than nature’s own young woman. The gown stops just below her rear, but she exaggerates the shape of her butt by keeping her legs aligned and bent at the hip and knees. Her bare, long, creamy white legs beckon me with their perfection.
“Well?” She asks, reveling in the effect she is fully aware that she is having on me. “What do you think?”
I open my mouth, but lack the ability to sum up the past three paragraphs of admiration into a quick answer, or speak at all, for that matter. Instead, after letting my mouth hang open for a couple seconds, I just say “I… Wow,” with a lot more air than was necessary.
She giggles and sits upright, shifting so that her legs hang over the edge of the bed. She gestures to me with a finger and I step toward her. She takes hold of my hand and pulls me down so that I stand leaning over her, and she begins to kiss me. Our hands release and we find each other’s bodies. My hands move to her shoulders, hers to my sides. When she kisses me, she repeatedly recoils slightly and then returns more firmly each time. She starts to open her mouth more and more each time she kisses me. Just when I attempt to lick her lip, her kisses start to travel to the side of my mouth, then my chin, and then my neck.
When she reaches the collar of my shirt, she stands me upright, and lifts my shirt. She holds it up so that she can kiss my stomach. Higher and higher does she move, moving my shirt out of the way as necessary. When she reaches the center of my chest, she stops to stand up and pull my shirt over my head and off my arms. As my arms come loose from my shirt, they land behind her head. From there I pull her towards me to kiss her more. We both open our mouths and our tongues glide a well executed dance. Our lips are stuck together as if we had each kissed a frozen telephone pole. We gasp for air but cannot stop kissing each other. One of my hands falls beneath the silk nightgown to feel her soft, cushiony bottom. Her arms were wrapped loosely around my waist, but now they seem to be between us, unbuttoning my jeans.
Nearly as soon as my jeans are open, she spins me around her and sits me on the bed. I try to pull her by the shoulders as I lie onto my back, but she pulls back.
“Ahh, ah, ah!” She discourages, wagging a finger. As she pulls my pants from my legs she says, “Like the story.”
She turns around and bends over a little bit, and begins to wave her butt in such proximity that I can hardly see anything else. I place my palms on her back, and slide them down, bending my elbows, until I have one hand on each cheek. I held her butt 43 seconds ago, but it still feels as invigorating as the first time I felt it. The combination of the warmth, the softness, the smoothness, the contouring curvature is simply amazing, it feels right. Before I feel I’ve had my fill, she starts making an up-and-down motion, pushing her rear toward me every time she lifts. My hands slide around to her hips, down her legs, and then behind me where I rest upon them to enjoy the show. As she turns to face me, I stare into deep, dark eyes, but then she quickly bends toward me, so that I can see down the nightgown. There they are! Those breasts that I am addicted to. An incomparable roundness, with fine consistency. I’m almost tempted to reach up and feel them, but I stop to let myself be teased.
She places one hand on either side of me, and spirals her shoulders offset from one another, so that her whole body rocks back and forth and her breasts sway from side to side. I look up and see she’s smiling. I notice my mouth is hanging open. She must’ve noticed what she was doing to me. With her effect unnecessarily over-established, she turns around again and sits on my lap so she can start to tease me physically, but she keeps her back arched so that she can maintain some delightful visual torture. At this point, I’m not exactly sure what she is doing, but it is so good. She looks amazing, her hips are wiggling, her hair is waving, her shoulders are spinning, her head is turned slightly to look at me, and whatever her butt is doing on my lap feels abso-fucking-lutely amazing. That perfect ass that I feel I still haven’t described quite as well as it deserved, is caressing my loins in a way that completely annihilates any and all coherent thought.
I don’t know how long she spent doing that, but no matter how long it was, I’ll tell you, I would’ve been happy if it went even longer. But alas, at some point, she stands up. She turns around, and sits on my lap facing me with her knees bent. She tilts her head foreword so that she can kiss me. After all that teasing, I jump for the opportunity to take some action and kiss her strongly. Some of my tension is finally released by allowing myself to have at her. We both pull each other into ourselves, kissing deeply, tongues sliding against each other, moisture seeping out the edges.
She gradually begins to thrust her pelvis across my lap. Gently at first, almost bouncing. But then it gets stronger. It becomes powerful, too powerful to maintain and kiss so passionately simultaneously. She starts to lean back, and she returns to the arched position. Her hand is kept behind my neck though, using it as leverage to pull herself against me. I drop my hands to the bottom of her nightgown and slip them underneath. I catch the edges of the gown with my thumbs, while my palms slide up her body. She slows her thrusting for a moment while I lift the gown over her head and arms. As I bring my hands down to her perfectly smoothed sides, she returns to her faster pace of thrusting.
I rotate my hands so that one is against her back and the other is lowered to her black panties. I press my thumb against her vagina, rolling it over the cloth, pulsating the pressure. She keeps thrusting, but she stabilizes her head so that she can look me dead in the eyes as she curls her lip beneath her teeth. I lay backward, and feel something on the bed. I stop pressing her panties to feel what I laid on. I pull it out from under my back to see that she’s gotten out a bottle of lube. She starts to get up so that we can take off the rest of our clothes, but I stop her. She pauses, curious what I am about to do. I sit up and take off her bra, and then I pour an extreme excess of lube upon her perky, supple breasts.
I drop the lube beside us and begin to play with her breasts. As if they weren’t soft and malleable enough, now they were also covered in lubricant. My hands easily slide over her now slippery body, squishing her breasts, pushing them this way and that, and pressing them until they slide out from under my hands, only to do it again. I know she isn’t thrilled about how much lube I used, but she’s still smiling because she knows I love to play with her breasts. They feel good in my hands, warm and soft. Squishy and round. Beautiful and sexy. The way my hands fit around them as if they were built just for me is simply delightful. I run my finger over her nipple repeatedly, and then squeeze each breast in the palm of my hand. While holding them, I lick some of the minty lube off one of her nipples. She sighs in a way that sounds somewhere between sexual and ticklish.
She leans forward and lies on top of me. In my ear, she whispers, “I want you inside me.” Her lubed breasts slide across my chest in the best way imaginable. I reach down her lower back to her butt. I squeeze it a couple of times, and then try to push down her panties, but I can only reach to her mid-thigh. We roll onto our sides and I get her panties down to her knees. She kicks them off the rest of the way while she pulls down my boxers. Once they pass my knees, I do the same. I roll on top of her and slide over her, still enjoying her super-lubricated breasts.
Then I slide very low, low enough to put myself in a position to lick her genitals. “No, don’t do that, I want you insi-hi-hi-hi-hi…oohhhhhh,” She moans, “mmm….” I only use the tip of my tongue, moving just a little bit, tickling her clitoris. I keep going, starting to do different things. Try to add a little variety. Switch between long and short strokes, soft and hard pressure. Despite my efforts to persuade her to relax and enjoy it, she still eventually says “I want you inside me” again. I don’t give up yet though. I pivot from my head, so that I am laying the opposite direction on top of her (69). “Come on.” She says.
“You come on,” I tell her. “…me.”
She snorts at my terrible line, “you idiot,” and then exhales in pleasure.
I take hold of her thighs and try to pull her so that she’s on top of me. She somewhat resists, but then she rolls over. (She knows that it feels even better if she’s on top of me.) She ignores the penis right next to her face for several minutes while I lick her, but when she starts to really fall into bliss she takes hold of it with her hand. It’s wet from all the lube that’s everywhere. Her hand slides over it easily, up and down, up and down. Every now and then she comes very near an orgasm, and will tense up too much to play with my penis, but then she falls out of it and starts shaking it again. After nearing and leaving an orgasm multiple times, she puts her mouth around my penis. Her head bobs up and down several times before she nears the orgasm again and lets my penis pop out of her mouth so that she can sigh in pleasure. Her sigh releases her from the proximity of the orgasm, and so she puts my penis back into her mouth. Once more, she nears her climax. This time she doesn’t stop sucking on me. As she comes nearer and nearer the orgasm, I can hear muffled moans, but she won’t let my penis out of her mouth because she doesn’t want to let herself relax. Suddenly, she lets go, shudders, and moans with sharp breaths.
She lay on top of me for several seconds. Her warm, comforting thighs are wrapped around my head. Her vagina smells strongly of pheromones that drive me wild. My lips are coated in a thick, warm liquid. Her body on top of me is like a blanket. It pins me down with heavy relaxation and warmth. I feel good knowing that I have pleased someone I love so much in the purest, most rudimentary form available. I can feel her breathing, but otherwise motionless. I am 100% responsible for what she is feeling right now. I made her happy.
She let out another sigh as she rolls off of me. “Oh my god,” She breaths, “That was awesome.”
I spin around once more so that we are aligned, and then roll on top of her. She spreads her legs and I lie between them. I press the head of my penis against her naturally well lubricated vagina. “Go in slow,” she says.
“I always do,” I reply. I push in just a tiny bit, but she still gasps. I bounce just barely inside her without going any deeper over and over again. Then I stop. I kiss her. Then I slide it in deeper. She gasps again. She tightly wraps her arms around me. My arms shake at her sides to hold myself up. I keep thrusting, getting deeper and deeper each time. She’s so wet that I slide with ease. And, since she’s already had an orgasm, it feels even better for her than normal. Her legs wrap around my waist. She gasps every now and then, and I grunt from the physical exertion. In and out, in and out, Over and over-
I shudder, my head buries into her shoulder, my arms relax, my body collapses upon her, I try not to move, I can only feel her.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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