Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

Not Enough

Ciana Rose 2004

© 2004

All Rights Reserved

 

 

I await his arrival anxiously while I prepare his favorite dish. Hard to believe he has been away for only a week. More like a lifetime.

The ring of the bell sets my pulse racing and I rush to throw open the door. The smile that greets me makes me laugh with joy. He drops his case and opens his arms, and I stumble into his embrace. God how I have missed him! Heart-to-heart, we hold each other and feel.

The kisses come, loving at first, but quickly turn more amorous. With childish fervor, I inhale his essence to distinguish dream from reality. I will never have enough of him.

He takes my hand and leads me to the couch where he takes a seat. I kneel before him. With a tender hand, he cups my face and stares into my eyes until our reconnection is substantiated more adequately. Then another kiss--probing possessively, taking what is his.

He is home.

I Cannot get enough and rise higher on my knees so that my body may express more articulately that which words can not. With my mounting frustration, he circles his arms and secures me to him while his tutored tongue conducts an in-depth exploration. Passion escalates in our fusion--restless hands slide, feel, and draw sustenance.

It is just not enough.

He calls upon control and severs our kiss, slowing the pace. He playfully stretches the elastic neckline of my peasant blouse and draws it off, one shoulder at a time, slowly bearing my breasts. Perky and tight, they stand for his pleasure. I regard him with admiration, my breath quickening, while he looks his fill in leisure.

Gentle fingertips brush the contour of my heavy orbs, silently, urging me to arch and offer. He tweaks one distended nipple. Then the second. Then he exhales a contented sigh and relaxes in his seat. I cannot bear the separation, the distance. I lean into him and press my face to his chest, caressing my cheek against the roughly textured shirt he wears while I listen to his life beat. It is not nearly enough.

My free hand blindly reaches for his belt but I am too anxious and fumble. With a small laugh, he relieves me of the responsibility. I grow breathless with expectation as I wait and watch while he extracts that which I burn to possess most at the moment--his cock. He works slowly deliberately, taking pleasure in taxing my hunger. Truth be known, it is a burden I care to never be relieved of.

Blindly, my hand reaches for his belt but I am too anxious, and fumble. With a small laugh, he relieves me of the responsibility. I grow breathless with expectation as I wait and watch while he extracts that which I burn to possess most at the moment--his cock. Deliberately he works slowly, taking pleasure in taxing my hunger. Truth be known, it's a burden I care to never be relieved of.

I manage to still myself a moment to take in the princely sight upon appearance. But that is hardly enough. I lose patience and devour him with the satisfaction of the starved in the throes of a feast. "Mmmm," I hum, striving to deepen my intake for mutual fulfillment.

While I suck to quench my thirst, he strokes my head with forbearance. He will not grant pacification so readily, regardless of the extent of my yearning. This I know well.

My physical lust wanes with his continued resistance, paving the way for a more emotional union. Detracting me from sweet suckling, he raises my face and with a soft kiss, praises my lips for their tender loving.

My eyes fall on bare chest gaping through his now open shirt and my fingers gravitate toward the field of dark cashmere and the pectorals that it cloaks. I hardly savor the touch before he lays his hand on mine and stops me. He brushes his rugged lips across my knuckles then rises, dragging me up with him.

As we stand face to face, he casts a slow consuming look that penetrates through flesh and bone as it travels down to my feet, and then back, causing me to tremble with anxious desire. He tucks his hand inside the unbelted-waist of my shorts and jerks me closer. His eyes bore into mine as he, piece by piece, slowly rids me of every stitch. Then he divests himself of his own clothing while I wait with baited breath.

He takes his seat again and per his instruction, I climb the couch on my knees and move astride his lap. Once more, our eyes meet and converse in silence, his, speaking of lust, of pure male demand. His desire for me never fails to raise me to the highest of heavens.

I carefully position myself over the rigid instrument created to lead us through the mating ritual and into the depths of its pleasure. My gaze returns to his face and the armament shining through his keen eyes sets my heart to somersaulting. He will use my anticipation to torment me. And to confirm, he commands my obedience with a strong grasp on my hip.

Desire festers within me and I ache for his fuck while he ruthlessly teases me into agony with a slow finger. "Please," I whimper, my abdomen contracting with the sensitivity he has generated. Hooded eyes climb to my face to gloat, then descend in dismissal to watch my helpless cunt be driven to weeping--a misery so sweet that even I treasure.

Only when he is ready, when he has soaked me to his satisfaction, does he begin to guide me into a descent. Vibrant nerves soothe one by one, wringing little gasps of pleasure with my glide downward. It warms my heart that I am not alone in the fight against the talons of ecstasy, lashing out to ensnare us into visionless sensation. Our gazes locked in resistance, he lowers my full weight and completes the sheathing. Long-suppressed moans escape and we come together anxiously.

Urgent needs clamor but we ward them off for a demanding mouth-to-mouth interlude that will not be deterred. How well we were constructed to fit each other.

Stretched tight, full and moist, I remain in blessed awareness of his presence inside my body as I let my hips initiate the first rhythm of our dance. Attuned to my every need, he returns my strokes, easing me into the steady pace that will best escort me through my journey to the summit.

Destination within grasp, my blood brews in preparation of the percolation that is mine to come. Reaching, nearing...and yes, arriving...

But privacy is not mine to be had. He suddenly clutches my hair just as heat waves break loose and jerks my head back. "I want to see it," he roars, searching my face to find the ecstasy he has brought upon me.

It is by sheer will that I bid my fluttering eyelids to remain open under the merciless pounding of completion. His blatant satisfaction in conquering me brings a whimper to my lips. I would not chance to miss such a reward, regardless of how deeply I have fallen into the cups of pleasure.

Intensity begins to ebb, raising the quiet screams of the passion raging through me. How do I adequately declare that it is just not enough? A fierce need to mesh with him overcomes me and I lunge for the appeasement. He resists briefly, then draws me hard against his chest and its sanctuary.

Allowing passion to sweep him, he throws a cushion to the floor and swiftly brings us down. Now, he must claim his own. With my bottom positioned high, I wrap my legs around his waist. If only I had the key of eternity to lock him there... He rocks for a deeper joining, and siphoning through our frantic appetence, he unleashes his hunger with a punishing kiss. Then, the pounding begins in earnest.

My screams grow louder, urging his pleasure to complete mine. He thrusts faster, his breath harshening in the drive. When my fingertips catch his nipple and squeeze, his demands turn more brutal--he cannot take enough. And then, one final delivering stroke and he grinds to penetrate to the soul until he bursts with a heartfelt groan. As the purging commences, I strain to spread myself wider so that he can take all that he needs, and I can receive all that he offers. He fills me. He fills my mind, my heart. He fills my body, my womb. He fills me with love, and he fills me with desire.

Could it, at last, be enough?

 

Later, when I remember dinner and begin to untangle my pliant body from his warmth, steel arms tighten around me and he whispers, "No. It's not enough."

 

 

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