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as if you would stare at the ceiling, taking the moment in. Your breathing, I notice, has become a little heavier, agitated, perhaps. I can feel something in the air. Release. Abandonment. Desire. With the same firmness I follow the flow of your back again and lift my hands under your shirt. You raise your arms and allow me to lift it off, and it drops silently to your side. You stand in front of me still with your back towards me, wearing only a pair of blue mens boxers. I can see from the lack of outline that you are wearing no panties. I want them off—but not yet. We must wait. I take my fingertips and gently—barely—press them against your back, up, to your shoulders. I have finished with the firmness with which I caressed you earlier. Now, gentleness. Now, ease. Now, caring. I stop again at your neck and glide slowly, methodically over the spot that made you lose your breath in anticipation. That spot. I circle it with my fingers, over and over again, listening to your breath become heavier, quicker. I can move now. Over the shoulders, down the front, slowly still, still with nothing more than a gentle brush of my fingertips. I reach your breasts, which have been patiently waiting my arrival. I know you want to turn around, to have me take them into my mouth, but you wait and allow me to continue with my plan. Your nipples, one under each set of fingertips. You feel them grow as I feel them grow under the slight weight I put on them. As they grow, I notice the first of the goose bumps raise over your back, your arms. I take a breast in each hand, gently still, then move my hands down over your belly, where I feel thousands of goose bumps there, waiting to be comforted. I move forward and place my lips to your back. You start to moan, but again I insist: "Shhhhh," barely taking my lips from your back, so that you feel the "Shhhhh" on you and the goose bumps persist. My lips are on your back again. I kiss you, gently, my tongue following your spine. My hands have moved to the front of you boxer shorts. There desire awaits me, and I intend on meeting her demands. Now, there is no tension left in your body at all—only the anxiety of not knowing when you will feel me beyond the soft caresses I give you. I move along the fragile outline of your pussy, the fingers of my hand meeting and joining in a V around you. I slide my fingers underneath, still outside of the shorts. It is starting to get wet there; she quivers, excited, restless. She wants released. I must obey the unspoken words I hear. I grasp the rim of the boxers and slowly—slowly ease them down. Inch by inch, second by second, moving slowly to build the wet fire


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inside you. I look down and see that my underwear is wet, stained with the precum that desires so much to pour from me. I can wait though. I hesitate, the boxers wrapped around your legs above the knees. I take in your fine, firm ass. I let the boxers rest there and move my fingertips up again, against your thighs, to your pussy, which I find engaging as my fingers enter you. A soft sigh exits you as I enter. Wetness. Smoothness. You have shaved your pussy, and I take the wetness I find on my finger and rub spread it around where your hair should be. My fingers glide along the area, easily slipping back through the crack, where I find your clit, and I wet it as well, knowing she is pleased that I have found her. Your supple sigh confirms this knowledge. I let your boxers fall to the floor with a silent finality, and I gently push you forward so I can stand up. I remove my briefs. You can hear my cock release from its bindings, a dull yet lively thud. You reach your hands back and touch it, and I wait a second, almost willing to let you turn around. No. I can feel the pressure in my cock, almost a cry, as I remove your hands and set them back to your side. I press up to you, my cock into your back. The precum wets your back, and I simultaneously take your hands into my hands and your neck into my lips. I release your hands—I know they wont go anywhere nor try to interfere. I press harder into you, as my hands search out your wet pussy once again. The time for gentleness is not over, no, but we can be a little more aggressive now. My hands encompass your pussy, my fingers definitively moving through your labia, as I push my cock harder into your back. Sandwiched between my belly and your back, my juices intermingle with our bodies. I move back a little, away from you, but you move with me, as if my cock caressing your back this might bring you to orgasm. I know I am close already; my balls ache, screaming to let go, let go, let go. I do let go, but of your pussy, and I sit back down and bend you over. There, in front of me, your pussy gleams. I take a finger and run it along your lips, turning it as I move under you, so I can fondle your clit. I push my thumb into you as my finger circles your clit. No—my thumb isnt enough, right now, even though I feel your juices slowly ease out of you into my hand. I want to taste you. I want you to feel me taste you. I bend forward and start softly, moving over your lips with the point of my tongue, inching towards your ass, then back down. My