a fantasy...III

Oh how he remembered it all.

Naked before him now, he had been nearly overwhelmed by the need for supplication at her feet, she was so impossible. He had been fully clothed still, and she had been stark but for the stealthy smirk of her lips, and he had never felt more exposed.

How he remembered the glow of her skin skulking underneath, the straightness of her back, the welcome of her breasts, those hard coffee nipples, pulsing with his desire, completely holding his desire in her hands, and knowing it too.

His first venture onto her had been a hesitant prayer, he had tried to touch every part of her, had tried to suck every sacred part of her as she stood there, but it had been too much. His fingers had scrambled in between her legs too soon, and she didn't seem to have cared, seemed to have guessed, because she had been waiting, and she had been deliciously moist and willing, rolling covertly in her own pleasure .

Oh that urge to worship her, oh that urge to go on his knees and bow his head, he had fought it, but she had taken over his living room, washed over him, swimming, as she anointed his hand with her wetness.

Then just as his knees had started to buckle, just as her moans had started to echo off his own like in a cathedral, she had grabbed him and pushed him against his wall. And unbelievably gotten down on her knees. Undeniably on her knees, the blessed inspiration of it. Her shoving his pants down, the wonder of it. Her finding him, her immortal mouth on his head oh, the lovely dirty miracle of it. And it hadn't been just her liquid luminescent lips and tongue that had blown him, her shining eyes had blown him, the tan rounds of her stripped shoulders had blown him, the hunch of her back, the curve of her stomach, every itch, every motion, every tinge of herself had blown him away. She had grapsed him so snugly and so smoothly he had felt himself slowly chipping away. Etching away at the seams, thinking of coming death, thinking noone had told him death could feel so good. How unworthy he had felt. Not proud at all, him towering over her, but her spinning him deeper and deeper into her power with every bob of her head.