He is under my body

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I take a second to think about what’s going on. The room is warm. He is warm. And he’s under my body.
He is under my body.
His shirt is gone. His pants are gone. His underwear is as gone as mine. But I still have my dress on. My hair tickles my shoulders, my naked ass heats up his legs. His strong legs. Mine are spread at the sides of his smooth body, kneeled on his bed, almost beseeching, eager to kiss him. But I take a second to think about what’s going on.
He is under my body.
I can smell him in me, in the air of his room. I can smell sweat. I can smell sex. The dim lights of dawn allow my eyes to enjoy themselves with the man subdued to me. Subdued to my desires. My mind works at full speed while time seems to be frozen. I’m holding my breath. My muscles are tighten and when doing so I feel him, hard, wet, burning me from inside out. His pubic hair is tangled with mine.
He is under my body.
I can see the veins on his arms when his hands press mi hips to his body. They are all over my skin, squeezing it. And they are everywhere: on my hips, my chest, my neck, my back, my thighs. My hands run slowly over his wide chest, teasing, caressing, feeling his warm skin under the tips of my fingers. His muscles are tight, hard, perfect. I wanna lick him from head to toes. I know I will. But later on. He sighs when I move my hips over him, feeling that delicious pressure deep inside of me. I look at his face, at his little frown, his half open lips. His almond-shaped eyes stare at mines.
He murmurs “I want you”.
I moan “I want you too”.

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