Reprieve

I came to the conclusion that things were not going to work with my lover and I. He is an enigma. I honestly don't know if he cares that I'm around. I know he likes fucking me. He's always eager. He's also single and looking for another to meet. So why should I care if he cares? Hmm... the dance of attention. He gives some, but not enough. I get a little but crave more.

So I start to look as well. At a concert on Friday night. Which one, maybe him?

Today my brown-eye Irish boy missed the way I taste. I relented, gave him an hour to renew my interest.

He met me with a smile and a deep lingering kiss, takes me straight to bed, whispering "Take off your clothes. I want to see your beautiful body."

Eager and generous, he sends me careening again and again before he finally spews his lust on my tits, which I generously rub all over us both.

He curls into a comma against my back, pinning me with his arm and cupping my breast in his hand -- breathes in my perfume at the back of my neck. We lay still for a while, enjoying the lull of post-coital bliss. His fingers trail a path from my hips to shoulder, lightly but consistent. He grabs my ass, pulls me against his rigid dick. Ready for round two?

Fingers dip into my wetness again and again, teasing my attentive clitoris, promising me more but pulling away before I go too far. I'm reduced to whispered begging, "Please, please make me cum. Please fuck me again. Please, baby, please.."

Finally he relents first with his fingers, brown eyes intent on my blue watching me ride each orgasm with my body and dialated pupils, then with his body covering mine and his dick buried deep.

He has earned his reprieve.