We were on the couch.
I was straddling you.
I leaned down to kiss you.
My hair fell over us like a curtain.
Until your hand went into my hair and pulled me closer to kiss me deeper.
I felt your other hand on my breast.
Then you let go of my hair and moved your hand to my other breast, squeezing both my nipples. Not gently, but not hard. Yet.
The moan that escaped my lips broke our kiss. And the moan encouraged you to squeeze a little harder. I moaned more – and you squeezed harder still.
I sat up as you continued your assault on my nipples and breasts. And when you released my nipples, you pulled me forward, so you could suck on them. First one, then the other, then you’d push my breasts together, so you could take them both in your mouth.
And as you did this, my moans continued.
You looked up at me after your mouth released my nipples. The look in your eyes – the smirk on your face – told me how much you were enjoying pushing me – walking that line between pleasure and pain – then pushing that line further as you read my expression and thought I could take it.
“I love how wet you are getting – I can feel you soaking me each time I do this,” then you squeezed them again – making me moan and squirm – and grind against you.
This continued until you put on a condom, lifted me onto your cock, then pulled me down hard onto it.
It was the start of our afternoon together.
And afternoon, I still remember fondly.
All because you figured out how they worked….