The door handle rattles in the lock and they stumble through the door. Entwined together, they giggle, trip, and collapse to the floor in a heap of winter coats, mittens and half drunken kissing. Diana, the wife has been laughing hysterically for the last two blocks over what, her husband Keith has attributed to nothing at all. The cheap merlot the bartender had poured had obviously dissolved whatever posed as a filter for her sense of humor and now all of the laughter that the week's hard work had bottled inside her was pouring out of her like the dry, red wine.
Keith on the other hand, was always the quiet one. He laughed on the inside, but all he expressed outwardly was an ear to ear smile, the four gin and tonics loosening his muscles, but as usual not his mind. He loved it when she was happy, and since she'd taken on the extra classes during the week, there hadn't been much time for her. He slipped a hand behind her flowing hair, which began the night bound up, but in the evening of drinking and dancing and falling to the living room had become partly disheveled. He pulled her in tight for a long, soft kiss.
Diana parted her lips to emit a soft sigh ad immediately brought her lover's top lip between hers and sucked gently, releasing and sliding into a wet, warm kiss, her tongue sliding across his, the romantic flame being stoked after a four month drought of all nighters, double shifts at the diner and drama with her friends. They hadn't had a chance to be truly romantic in the better part of a semester's worth of time, and the two of them were both ready to tear into each other the first chance they got.
Keith, being the usual aggressive partner, shifted his weight and started to roll on top of his lover, but she continued the roll and ended up straddling him, her warmth pressed to his hardness, only two layers of denim and a bit of cotton fabric separating their love for each other. She continued her rant of giggling, almost tipping to one side and thus relinquishing her dominance, but she eventually righted herself and leaned forward, resting her hands on the carpet behind his head.
Always having been a breast man, the sight of his lover's bust mere inches from his face was too much temptation and he brought his hands up to the zipper of her winter jacket, starting to slide it down, anxious to reveal the next layer underneath. She stopped him mid-stride, halting his boyish Christmas-like unwrapping with a playful swat to the wrist. He retracted and looked up at her, dumbfounded. Wanting to protest, but not sure what to say, he smiled and placed his hands on her firm, feminine hips. Again, she swatted her lover's wrists. With a playful smile which at the corners curled like the randy little devil she was, she stated "Look... but don't touch."
She looked him dead in the eyes, smiling as if to say "trust me, I know what I'm doing.” and slowly began to undo the zipper herself, dragging the painted metal release slowly down the front of her jacket, progressively slower the farther down she pulled, making sure it made plenty of noise, the sound of the coat's unfastening heightening his anticipation. Keith reached up to grasp the fronts of her jacket to try and help her shrug out of it, and once again she slapped his hands away, a little more fervently this time, as if to bring the point home. Once free of the white nylon overcoat, she brought her arms behind her and allowed the garment to pile in a crumpled heap at his feet.
She next brought her hands to her front, down to the bottom of her maroon sweater. Keith, growing harder by the moment, began to squirm beneath her, convinced that she was about to alleviate herself from the weight of a knit sweater, but was disappointed when she instead began unfastening her belt, the black leather and small silver rivets coming free of the denim loops with a slip and whoosh. She grasped the ends of the belt and leaned forward, closing the garment into a loop and securing her husband’s wrists, tightening the belt until she was sure his hands were playfully shackled together.
She leaned in and started to steal a kiss, pulling away just as his lips grazed hers, Keith lunging forward, trying to take what was rightfully his. She giggled to herself and undid the front of his jacket, spreading out the thick coat, the sleeves and front portions ruffled out to his sides, unable to lift it above his head with his hands tied. Lifting up on his t-shirt underneath, she began placing small tender kisses across the ultra sensitive sides of his bare stomach. He was a ticklish man, and she was careful not to set off a laughing fit. He did anything but, groaning a bit with delight, eyes closed, reveling in the sensations. She knew what he wanted, what set him off, and she was starting to really get him going. She tugged on a finger full of the hairs leading from his pubic area up his stomach and across his belly button, lightly as she turned her kiss into the solid contact of her soft, warm tongue. Sliding one wet licking kiss all the way up his flank, across his abs, she stopped for a brief wet kiss on his sternum. Finally crossing his pec over to his right nipple, her sensuous tongue curled around the tightening nub. He gasped aloud with delight.
She tilted her face toward his and locked her eyes to his, eyebrows angled devilishly as she clenched his erect nipple between her teeth, tugging on the sensitive tissue as he once again gasped aloud, a wave of intense pleasure with just a splash of sharp pain, altogether a wonderful cocktail of sensation. She released the hold of her teeth and licked and tongued and sucked his pleasure point until his toe curled, fingers wrenched in pleasure and his back arched, his hips lifting his blushing, giggling, inebriated bride off the carpet, almost tipping her off of her perch, again righting herself, determined to remain in control.
She leaned back on her hands, both between his thighs, lifting a hand off the beige, shag floor and dragging it across his lap, teasing his testes through his jeans with her fingertips. His senses were heightened, and he cried out with pleasure, so eager to rip the belt from around his wrists, rip her clothes from her perfect body and fuck her silly until she didn’t know which way was up. He tugged at his stylish leather restraint, and reality set in, she was clearly in charge, just roll with it.
She spread her fingers, splayed across his bulging package, his hardness almost painful, being restricted uncomfortably by the denim jeans and the black cotton boxer briefs beneath. She pressed her hand against his hardness, curling her fingers around its outline, grinding the fabric against his taught skin, the sensation sending a ripple of sexual tension up his spine. She squeezed harder and then released, leaning back into an upright kneeling position, sliding her hands slowly, sensually up her hips, across her skin tight blue jeans, across the missing belt loops, across the fuzzy surface of her knit sweater and coming to rest on the outside edges of her perfect, womanly breasts. She squeezed with her hands, the skin, fabric and underwire contorting as she moaned aloud, putting on a show for him.
She ground her warmth against him again and the sensation returned, another wave pulsing from his long neglected genitals, all the way up the length of his body. She gazed into his eyes as he moaned, grinding against him with a bit more fervor, enjoying the sense of empowerment as she continued to dry hump her supine lover. She slid her hands down the length of her stomach, to her waist, undoing the metal fastener of her pants button.
She released her grip on her upper pant waist, deciding it wasn’t time for that yet, and things would happen when she wanted tonight. She grasped the soft fabric of her sweater and lifted skyward, first revealing the soft, pale skin of her belly, then her ribs, slowing to an inching crawl as the fluorescent lighting started to tease and reflect the intricate lace of her black, low cut brassiere. The black, lacy fabric barely enough to contain her beautiful, soft, womanly breasts, She tossed the sweater aside when she had finished the first part of her little strip tease and contorted her wrists behind her back, expertly shrugging loose the rear clasp of the bra and leaned forward, catching the straps with her arms tight against her sides. In doing so, she prevented the whole garment from falling completely down her front, the hint of a tight, pink nipple peeking through the bountiful display of flowing mammary tissue.
She had teased him long enough she decided and released her arms, allowing the bra to fall silently to her man’s chest, her beautiful breasts free from clothing, Keith did everything he could to keep from salivating. She brushed the garment aside and returned to the business at hand.
Another thrust and it was almost too much for poor Keith to bear, having to fight his instincts back to keep from coming right off the get go. He gritted his teeth and let forth a primal grunt, expressing his pleasure, his frustration, his animal aggression all coming through in one monosyllabic utterance. Diana sensed his loins tightening and slowed her gyrating hips to a stop and leaned forward, pressing her breasts to either side of Keith’s face. He began to eagerly lap, lack, and suck, teasing her sensitive nipples, dancing his tongue across her areolas, drinking in deep her skin, her scent, her taste.
As he took to her breasts with a ravenous relish, she reached down, gasping between breaths as he pleased her as only he knew how, the best he could without the use of his hands. She brought her fingers down to the half undone zipper, fumbling between their two bodies to undo it the rest of the way, beginning to slide her blue jeans down from over the top of her black g-string panties. Using the heel or her right shoe, she kicked the left free from her foot, her cold, socked toes forcing the other shoe off, wriggling her body against his, she managed to slide her tight denim jeans down her perfect, round buttocks, down her toned legs and down to her feet. Kicking and thrashing for just a moment, she fought against the denim and still a bit against the merlot, to free her legs from the name brand blue jeans.
She was in a forceful mood, more so with each passing moment. She decided to herself, time to take what she wanted. Propping herself up on her hands, she slid her pelvis across his, their sexes meeting once again in a hot preview of things to come. She stopped when she came to rest with her knees on the carpet, straddling his chest, her near naked wetness only inches in front of his face. She wasted no words, no bothering with the usual sequence of foreplay, the usual routine. She was way too heated for that bullshit. He ripped the front fabric of her cotton panties to the side and forced her sex into Keith’s face. Totally taken aback by his woman’s dominant, forceful behavior, he slipped easily into the role that his current restraint forced him into, burying his nose into her pubic mound and licking away at her wet, slippery sex. Her lips parted and a louder moan and giggle of sheer delight sounded from her being as she pressed the back of Keith’s head into her, encouraging him to continue eating her, wishing he would never stop, the attention to her clit causing shivers, the slow, soft penetrations of her womanly lips by his tongue, pressing shallow strokes inside her, driving her mad.
Before he got a chance to truly set her off, she retracted from his oral attentions, pulling back just enough so she could swivel her position, still straddling his chest below the shoulders, but now she faced his feet, his gaze on her perfectly formed buttocks, the displaced string of her panties still off to one side, the outer lips of her wet warmth peeking from between her soft thighs. She leaned forward and grasped at his pants button and zipper. With no pause for effect, she unceremoniously ripped them both open and reached inside the new opening in his clothing, her fingers plucking up the elastic waist band of his gray cotton boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his rock hard erection, which sprang free. She eagerly grasped the bulging shaft of his hardness, as eager to play with her favorite part of his body as any child would be eager with a brand new toy, without hesitation she took him into her hungry, eager mouth, sucking and licking the throbbing tip of his penis.
He leaned forward and once again buried his face in her wet sex, desperate to please his bride, who no longer blushed, but rather fellated her loving husband with the deft skill of a veteran, her hand stroking up and down on him as she pleased his most sensitive bits with her mouth. As he licked and sucked away at her, he felt her begin to tense up, her clit tightening and her breathing began to become ragged, beginning to take breaks from her own loving attentions to catch her breath, as his ample hard on left no room in her mouth. Eager as she might be, she was beginning to lose control of herself. Her breath turned shallow, as though she were breathing in something other than air, something which would not allow her to catch her breath, she leaned back a bit, pressing his stiffness against her chest, against her heart. Her back arched a moment later and she began to cry out, trying to gasp encouragement to her lover, but her exact meaning getting caught between "Oh, God." "I'm cuuuuuuumi--- God, yes!" "And don't you dare fucking stop!"
Wanting to simply collapse into heap on top of her lover, let him take control and let him fuck the rest of her orgasm out of her, she realized that in his current position, it would be damned near impossible to take control of anything, up to his neck in his wife's wet sex, shackled at the wrists, pants still partly secured around his thighs, he wasn't going anywhere, at least not without looking totally retarded. She gathered what strength she had left and slid herself along his body, her wet labia teasing his chest, stomach and finally coming to rest right where they belonged. She raised herself to the balls of her feet, still holding a firm grasp around his well aroused manhood, she lowered her weight, impaling herself on him. They both cried out with pleasure as he entered her, or rather she took him in.
The two exchanged no words, no "I love you's", not even so much as a soft start-off. No, this was different; they weren't a married couple, husband and wife making love in their married home. They were a man and a woman, two young animals. Animals with a distinct lack of body hair and the ability to perform math and with an appreciation for art and religion, but they nonetheless were animals. They weren't making love; this was a good rough fuck on the carpet, the two grunting and panting with the pulses and waves of sexual energy, pleasure, and the raw animalistic force of sex.
With each passing thrust, she ground deeper and harder against his body, her swaying undulation causing her breasts to bounce and her breath to become more of a rhythmic pant. She was thoroughly enjoying her newfound dominance, lost in her own gratification, neglecting their usual niceties of eye contact and deep kissing, focusing solely on her sensations, still mid orgasm. She cried out with pleasure, throwing her head back, running one hand's fingers through her hypersensitive hair and scalp while the other clutched tightly at her left breast, squeezing and contorting the squishy flesh as she rode her man hard and fast.
Keith moaned aloud as the all too familiar sensation began to build in his loins, the tension increasing by the second, begging for release. The rhythms of his groans and pantings began to coincide with hers as he neared his climax. She knew him well enough to know what was happening, and as his groans nearly became a ragged shout she leaned forward on her elbows, her thrusts changing to an up and down slide, skillfully masturbating his shaft with her slick, hot wetness. She took all of him in, and back out as his loins contracted, groaning and gasping with each wave as he began to orgasm, his fluids pumping into her waiting insides in spurts. Several waves of pleasure and his mind was jello.
He collapsed back, eyes nearly shut, head contacting the carpet with a muted thump. She slowed her hips to a crawl, and then stopped; looking over her shoulder at her post orgasmic husband, lying slumped on the floor. She slowly raised her hips, his slickened hardness sliding from her and falling against his body, already softening. She rose to her feet, and without words walked away toward the bedroom. As she hit the doorway, she turned her neck to view her man, still on the floor, just starting to get control of his faculties. He lifted his bound hands against his chest and slowly, shakily sat up, attempting to rise to his feet. He tripped over his pants, still around his thighs. She smiled wickedly at him as if to say "You have fun with that", and stepped through the threshold, shutting the door quietly behind her, playfully, smugly swaying her naked bottom as she went.