"Moving Experience" {Pendragon} (MF toys)
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.
This material is Copyright, 1999, Uther Pendragon. All
rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous
permission.
All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.
# # # #
MOVING EXPERIENCE
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
"Keith, what are these things on the closet shelf?" Danielle was
discovering that cleaning was a central concern for her boyfriend
-- only the center of rooms ever got cleaned.
"I think they're ties." The woman asked the damndest questions.
She was looking at them, after all. If the ties or whatever
interfered with her plans for the shelf, he'd take them.
"They aren't in wearable shape. Oops. Did you get gravy on this
one? or chocolate?"
"Spaghetti sauce," Keith said. "And it was rather the other way
around." A very embarrassing moment.
"You don't really wear them this narrow do you?" she asked about
the second.
"Did at fifteen."
She shook the dust off the last one, and was instantly sorry.
"Don't tell me that you wore this at fifteen; why did your
let you?"
Now *that* memory was a winner. "Well, it's like this. George
and I were working back office together, right out of college.
(I've told you about George haven't I?)"
She shuddered to communicate how much he had told her about
George.
"Anyway..." he continued. He could never get across to her what
a really fun guy George had been; you really had to have been
there. "Anyway, the there had been wearing more and more
revolting shades of green on St. Patrick's day."
"I hate to tell break this to you, Keith, but this tie is not
green." Revolting, yes.
"And I'm not Catholic, and neither is George. So he got these
sewn up and we both wore them on St. Paddy's. We were a great
success. But George was fired a few months later for a practical
joke which the boss took the wrong way. So I wore a black tie
the next year."
"He got two ties *made* special so you could look horrible?" Was
she still certain that she wanted to move in with this man?
"Well, sure. Not even you could look good in that necktie."
"Okay," she said, though her mind was already rising to the
challenge. "Do you have a vacuum cleaner, or do you just rent
one when the occasion arises?"
She cleaned the spaces assigned to her before risking any of her
clothes to them, and it was late when she had finally moved in.
"Why don't you send out for something?" she said. "I need a long
shower."
He probably needed a shower much more than she did. After all,
he'd carried the suitcases and boxes up three flights of stairs,
she'd only wiped out and put away. On the other hand, picturing
her in the shower was worth the wait.
She took her time in the shower. She turned off only the hot
water, however, when she stepped out. Dried, hair fluffed,
carefully made up, diaphragm inserted, she experimented with the
ties she had found.
He ordered from the take-out, but the shower was still
running when the food got there. So was the in his mind,
though he had to run his image through the entire washing
procedure three times to match the time she took. He knocked on
the door to tell her that dinner was ready. She came out in a
disappointingly opaque robe which covered her completely. But,
as she reached and relaxed during the meal, it spread wider and
wider.
Keith, who had seen her naked scores of times, took more
and more peeks as the dinner wore on. For the first time in
their relationship, she got more sweet and sour shrimp than he.
"I'll clean up," she offered. Their glasses, their mugs, and
four serving spoons needed washing; two boxes needed
refrigeration. Everything else was for the garbage. "Why don't
you take your shower now?"
Of course she'd clean up. She wasn't a guest, she lived here
now. But he did need a shower. He took a fast one, fearing that
the hot water hadn't recovered from her use.
She'd planned on arousing him, but was finding that her
preparations, combined with the anticipation of his reaction,
were getting her wetter and wetter. Her first night in this
apartment, well her first night as a resident here, promised to
be a hot one. Good. She wanted to start the new level of
relationship off with a bang.
He was in bed when she came in.
He watched her take off the robe until it was draped from one arm
and covering her from the lowest ribs down. The effect was a
strip show, even sexier because she seemed unconscious of the
effect. Her was almost by her arm in the
beginning, showing only the perky nipple poking out from the pale
pink areola. It slowly emerged as she turned, revealing the soft
curve of its underside. Finally, its mate came into sight,
turning a luscious pear into a perfect pair. Already a little
hard in anticipation of her presence in his bed, he firmed more.
When she was three quarters front-on, she looked at his face.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
"And how!" He felt like whistling.
"Still like what you see?" Still giving him a three-quarter
view, she slowly dropped the robe. Then she turned to face him.
He did whistle. She had turned the tie into a breechcloth.
Dangling from a dark band around her waist, a patch of orange
covered the space where her legs met. Concealing the area, it
enhanced the mystery; swinging free, it implied access. He
turned on his side so that his erection wouldn't tent the sheet.
"Then take it back," she said in her coldest tone.
Take what back? The tie? "I'd love to take it off you, but you
do so much more for it than I ever did."
He was babbling; well, it was a start. "Take back what you said
about my not looking pretty in this necktie." She hoped that she
wasn't overplaying the confrontation. Since dinner, the first
strand of the tie had been working its way deeper between her
outer lips and was rubbing against her inner ones every time she
moved. His teasing had started a minute ago; hers had gone on
for an hour.
"Darling you are beautiful. It's just an expression, like 'old
as the hills.' 'So ugly that not even Danielle would look good
in it' -- I didn't mean that. Though I will say that you look a
lot better that way than the way I pictured you wearing it."
"Take it back."
"I thought I did. You look absolutely gorgeous. Even in that
tie. Especially in that tie when you wear it that way. I take
it all back." He was starting to wilt under this barrage.
"Okay. You're forgiven." She started to walk towards him; well,
she started to sway towards him. She tried to concentrate on the
broad flap in front, moving so that it waved back and forth
without quite revealing that it was not the only barrier. But
the thin section pressed between her outer lips kept distracting
her. It tickled her at every step and tickled more when she
swayed.
He stood up as she drew closer. Her kiss of forgiveness made up
for all the silliness of the accusation. Her mouth melted open
under is, and she accepted his tongue. Meanwhile, her
pressed against his ribcage until he reached up his hands to hold
them.
She enjoyed his kiss until her knees tired of their burden.
Lying on the bed, she was open to his kisses everywhere. And he
accepted her invitation, lavishing kisses on her face, neck and
shoulders. He kissed over both and kissed her mouth once
more before settling on her right nipple. There he teased,
tasted, until it almost hurt, and then teased again. Her
legs spread even before his hand reached her thighs.
Her were delights. He licked the bulging, smooth,
softness while he could resist the bumpy firmness. Once there,
he was immediately drawn to the taut bud on the top. Mouth
helplessly locked to this, only his hand could stray lower. It
stroked the silkiness of her inner thighs until the magnetism of
their meeting place captured him. He remembered the flap of
gaudy orange hiding her mystery from his eyes but not his hand.
When his hand slipped up to explore that mystery, however, the
way turned out to be barred. This was definitely a problem. He
kissed the luscious nipple goodbye and moved down the bed to take
a closer look.
The suction on her nipple and the strokes on her thighs aroused
her, the arousal made her writhe, the writhing tickled her lower
lips with the tight band that it drew between the outer ones and
over the inner ones. The tickling added to the arousal, which
made her writhe even more. By the time that he dropped lower in
the bed, she had tired of the game. Let him rip the whole thing
off and plunge inside to finish them both.
Pulling the flap revealed most of her furry mound. But there was
still another part to the tie, splitting her lips apart and
squeezing each of them upwards. He petted each lip with a
finger. Poor bulging flesh, he sympathized with those sensitive
lips as the squeezing distended them; but the way that they
seemed to reach out to him was so arousing. He kissed each one,
but couldn't bring himself to free them. He moved up on the
middle of the bed, away from the right edge where they had both
been crowded. That way he could kiss the other nipple while
caressing her with his right hand. A little pull at the tie
crossing her mound seemed to loosen things. He ventured another.
Danielle sighed as the first layer of the tie was removed, but
kisses and strokes on the outer lips added to her tension without
promising the slightest chance of relief. The tugs on the thin
end of the tie were a mixed blessing. While they changed the
tension enough that different parts, at least, of her labia were
being tickled, each of them drew a quarter inch of tie through
her furrow.
The nipple was delightful to his lips and tongue, but the outer
lips didn't feel as engorged as they had a minute ago. He
reached down to the broad part of the tie and pulled it tight.
For a moment, her labia bulged as much as they ever had. He
rubbed a finger across each, as lightly as possible.
The new tension was more than she could stand. She struggled to
reach the knot in the thin tie. A moment's fumbling before she
was free. Raising her left leg, she pulled the whole contraption
off. The relief was wonderful, although the built up tension
remained.
He was sorry for a moment that this game had ended, but there was
now so much more to explore. Now, when his fingers ventured
between her outer lips, they didn't meet a piece of cloth; now he
could feel her thin, slick inner ones. He petted them for a
moment, taking them in his fingers and moving one against the
other. But they parted, almost of their own accord, and allowed
him to touch paradise. It flowed with honey, if not milk. There
he reveled before stroking the moisture slowly upward before
returning for more, every stoke further upward but every stroke
traveling more slowly, approaching the bud he knew awaited him.
He noticed that he was holding his breath in anticipation.
Somehow, where the friction of the tie had been as annoying as it
had been arousing, Keith's touch was soothing. But it was twice
as arousing. This had to be the time he would reach her center
of feeling, but he stopped short again. She let her breath out
as he returned to her entrance, then breathed in slowly as the
teasing approach resumed. This time. This time it would. This
time it did, and flame leaped from that touch.
He drew his finger upward with as much slowness as he could
manage. Her moved under his mouth as she writhed. Could
he get closer yet without touching it? He couldn't. He felt the
bumpiness after all that smoothness, he felt her quiver in a new
way. He felt, more than heard, her gasp. Then her abdomen was
tensing under his arm. Her nipple, too, was moving between his
lips. He hard as a goodbye kiss.
It was coming. She could feel it hovering just behind her, she
could feel it speeding towards her from afar. And she needed it,
God, she needed it. The brief plunge of his finger into her
helped; even the twinge at her helped; but the second
stroke over her clitoris helped most. Then that bud was hard as
flint, and his finger was soft steel, and they struck sparks one
after another. The flames took, and flared, and her whole body
caught fire. She gasped into his mouth and writhed on the bed.
The flames took her soaring away. And then they flared beyond
her.
He managed to kiss her open-mouthed once before her tension
warned him. Her thighs closed, trapping his hand where he had
every intention of staying. All her softness hardened, she
poised on the brink while he stroked her trigger. And then she
gasped into his mouth. For a minute, she was undulating beside
him. He felt triumph; the greatest artists never created such
beauty as he had achieved with his mouth and fingers. He felt
lust; his phallus shook in its desire to be within the soft
center of that quivering. When she dropped to the bed, he pulled
apart the legs which had been pressed so close together. He had
seconds before she came down too far.
She took two ragged breaths. God, she'd needed those. She
experienced the first return of his hand to her genitals as more
demand than enticement; after that last explosion, she needed a
little rest. But, after his fingers parted her lips, something
broader and warmer slid between them. She needed that, too. She
needed him inside her, needed to be filled. Soon she needed his
slow motion, the stretching of her entry on the upstroke and the
fullness and the pressure on the downstroke, the constant gentle
friction.
She was so hot as he touched her opening, so smooth as he pressed
inside, so close around him. This first entrance was so sensuous
that he wished it could last forever, but he also wanted to be
fully enclosed in her tight clasp. He loved watching her face as
he entered. Her mouth opened and rounded in unconscious
imitation. Her eyes opened wider as he began his entrance, then
closed when he was finally seated. He pressed forward when there
was no forward, and he stayed there for a moment before beginning
the stroking within her. On his third instroke she moved to meet
him, and they found a rhythm to suit them both. The desire built
slowly, dominated by enjoyment of the present sensations.
Her arousal, having lacked time to dissipate, was climbing once
again. His strokes pleased so much, but tickled so much more.
She rose to meet them, moved against them, tried to hurry them.
And then her body ambushed her. In the midst of one withdrawal
to match his, her heels dug in. The tension flashed up her legs,
rolled her hips forward and thrust them upward, tightened her
belly, and pressed down her arms. She arched like that until she
was filled once more, filled more deeply than before. Then the
fire rolled through her again, taking her higher, rubbing her
groin against the stake he had driven into her, shaking her.
Finally, it tore her apart and dropped the pieces in a heap.
When she arched under him and pulled him into her, he fought back
his own orgasm to enjoy hers. He pressed inward and shook,
pressed inward and shook, rubbing himself against her entrance.
By not withdrawing through that enticing tightness he minimized
his stimulation while maximizing hers. His reward was rich. Her
fingers clawed his seat to draw him into her, her legs spread to
encompass him, her groin rolled to take in his last millimeter.
She shook under him and pulsed around him. If her climax beside
him was beauty, her climax around him was paradise. When it was
over, he pulled out immediately to taste the wealth of her
reactions.
Her first conscious thought was of missing him. His arms were
not around her and he was not within her. Where had he gone?
Then she felt him kiss her. His tongue gently aroused the so-
sensitive flesh of her lips first. As his mouth concentrated on
the region around her clitoris, she tensed again.
The aroma of her ecstasy almost brought his own. He her
lips and then licked them, tasting her marvelous completion
everywhere. Slowly, as he sipped the juices of her past
satisfaction, the taste was joined by the subtly-different taste
of a present excitement. This increased as he licked upward. He
spared some of his attention to the signs of her readiness,
checking the tension in her abdomen and slipping two fingers
inside to find the soft button on the top of her tunnel. Finally
he blew lightly across the central bud of her sensitivity. He
barely heard a hiss as she inhaled. At that subtle warning, he
abandoned all his attentions to return his phallus to her
entrance.
She was almost there when he changed again. Poised on the
threshold, hungering for his lips and tongue, her center was
abandoned. The next sensations were totally different, but she
desired them as much. He pierced her once more, spread her lips
wider than before. She seemed somehow fuller. Then he was
moving at a new angle which rubbed her into a new sort of
feeling. The new location of her sensations deep inside delayed
her ecstasy for a few heartbeats, but it she could feel it
approach as one can hear a thunderstorm approach while the nearby
ground is still dry. And, like the thunderstorm, it crashed over
her when it did arrive. It relented for a moment; but his
movements did not, and the crashing came again, and yet again.
This time he could not slow his entry to savor it, but the
sensations of heat and smoothness were still exquisite. Indeed,
she felt tighter than ever. He adjusted his position so that he
was rubbing across the top of her tunnel, trying to stroke the
button his fingers had found. He found a way to hold her
even while moving at that angle, and he held them with a thumb on
each nipple. When she clasped around him deep inside her, he
thrust hard into her and moved only his thumbs. When her clasps
stopped, he stroked across the top of her tunnel again. This
became their pattern: she had a series of short orgasms, he rode
each one out enjoying the exquisite squeezes around him, he
stroked in and out in the intervals. He pushed back his own
orgasm, enjoying the anticipation nearly as much as the glory of
her response around him.
Having him move above her and within her was delightful, but she
doubted that she could survive many more of these climaxes. In
an interlude, she grabbed the ties with one hand and his butt
with the other. A minute's groping located the slick section
which had tormented her so long ago. As another climactic
episode began to possess her, she thrust the tie under his nose
and clawed at his butt cheek. Then she was shaken once again.
The tie in his face surprised him. Already gasping for breath,
he drew the aroma of Danielle in heat deep into his lungs. At
the same moment, her nails clawed his seat and her tunnel clasped
him tighter. His control gone, he pulled nearly out through the
tight clasp. Then he drove into her, and pulsed out his own
orgasm. And pulsed, and pulsed, and pulsed.
Pinned to the bed, with him quivering deep within her, she felt
herself climax again. The fire took her and shook her longer
than the last ones had. Then she was blessedly at peace. And
then there was a heavy weight crushing her. She pushed against
his shoulder until he moved off.
He gasped for breath until she poked him into moving. Sprawled
on his back he almost fell asleep. But he missed her already.
He pulled the sheet out from under him and managed to reach the
lamp. Then he pulled her to him, and covered them both with the
sheet. She nestled her softness against him as he began to drift
off.
After a minute, he rolled her over against his side with her head
on his shoulder. It was a comfy place to sleep. Which was lucky
since she might never have the energy to move again.
The End
Moving Experience
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
1999/07/29
For another about another couple at another stage of
their relationship, see:
hold.txt
"Hold That Thought"
Caution. That has elements which might upset more
sensitive readers. (And I'm not telling you what.)
This is indexed in the subdirectory:
etc.txt
Etc. -- not otherwise indexed
The directory to all my can be found at:
index.txt
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