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It’s the scent of leather. It’s a scent you can’t get enough of, although damned if you know why. Part of it is the sheer scent of it – it fills your head, a scent you can taste in the back of your mouth and the soft smoothness of it against your skin. Quite a lot of your skin, since you’re lying flat on the couch, legs wide open, skirt hiked around your thighs and your shirt pushed up across your collarbone. You’re biting into it to keep quiet, your face pressed into the cushions and your hand working between your legs, in your panties, no doubt stretching the fabric. The pad of your thumb is against your clit, circling over it, while your index and middle finger are inside of you, up to the knuckles, thrusting into you. Your feet are flat on the couch cushions as well, and you can feel the leather sticking against your skin, which makes sense considering how much you’re sweating. You press your face into the back of the couch, surrounding yourself with the heady, smooth scent of leather. You’re not close, nowhere near close, but you can feel how wet you are, and your heart is racing under your other hand, kneading and pressing against your breast, twisting the nipple in that way that always sends your nerves tingling and your hips twitching.
You shouldn’t be doing this, and you know it – it isn’t exactly your couch, and you’re in the open in the middle of the day. You got some time off, he offered you his place to crash for a little bit, and you expected to do just that. Sprawl out on his couch, read, maybe watch a movie. But then you took in the scent of all that leather, smooth and sensual, filling your head and making you tingle between the legs, your panties getting slimy, your nipples pebbling. He’s away, still busy, and he’s not due back for a while yet, so what’s wrong with having a bit of fun? It’s not like he’ll notice – you won’t leave any mess (which is why your panties are still on), and you’ll open the windows to air the place out, keep it from smelling too much like sex. You move your hand from your breast to your mouth, pressing down, keeping away any noises, even though you know nobody will actually hear you, not in the empty apartment. But it’s a holdover from the days when you shared a room, and anyway, it makes it sexier, somehow – having to stay quiet, the naughtiness of it.
You throw your head back, your back arching, toes curling, one foot nearly falling off of the couch. You’re bucking your hips wildly, breathing in deep, gasping pants, pressing Akbatı escort down on your mouth, then giving up and going back to twisting your nipples, still stroking your clit, adding another finger and groaning at the lovely fullness of it. You wish you had one of your toys with you – something more satisfying to put inside of you, or something to press against your clit and let the vibrations hum through your bones. But you don’t ordinarily carry those things with you, so you settle for your own thumb against your clit and your fingers curled against your G-spot, making you gasp and moan while the decadent smell of leather coats the inside of your mouth, and you press your face into the back of the sofa and inhale, letting the scent flow through you, making your skin tingle and your toes curl.
You’re lost in it, and you know intellectually that that’s probably not a good thing, you should be on the alert in case he comes back, but you can’t, not when everything is throbbing, when you’re so wet that you can feel it smearing across your thighs and slick against your palm, your muscles clenching so tightly around your fingers that it almost hurts, but it only makes you gasp and moan more, your hips working faster, your mouth wide open, and you’re practically sobbing, it feels so good, you’re almost there, and it will be amazing, and he’ll come home and not know what you were doing on his couch, because you’ll be all sweet and angelic, curled up on the couch, your fingers still musky and sweet with your own scent.
You almost fall off of the couch when the door slams, and you pull your hand out of your panties, but there’s still an obvious wet spot, your fingers are still wet, and your skirt and shirt are still hiked up in a way that’s anything but innocent. You know he sees you, from the way his eyebrows go up, but his expression is unreadable. You know you should start apologizing, you can feel the sobs building up in your throat, but you don’t say anything, because he’s looking at you with a look you’re not entirely sure how to interpret, and you can’t move. Instead, you stay put, transfixed, like a mouse in front of a snake. You’re shaking a bit, and you’re holding the fingers that were inside of you up. He walks towards you slowly, then crouches down in front of you, so that you’re eye to eye. Very carefully, he takes your index finger into his mouth and sucks on it, his tongue flicking along the digit. You’re shaking now, your arousal Aksaray escort bayan still coursing through you, and you whimper out loud.
He smiles at you around your fingers and takes the other two into his mouth, sucking on them wetly, his tongue flicking across the digits. When they’re clean of every last bit of arousal, he carefully withdraws them and puts his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you into a sitting position. He nudges your legs open and smirks up at you, nuzzling between your legs, his nose against the wet spot in your panties. You moan, arching your back, your bare toes curling in the carpeting, your hips rising up, and you press both hands against your mouth to keep quiet, a nervous gesture.
“Don’t do that,” he tells you, and slips his thumbs under your panties, beginning to slowly slide them down. “I want to hear you.”
You lift your hips up to help him, watching with some amusement as he presses them to his face and takes a sniff, then puts them down on the floor next to him, nudging your legs further apart, and he begins to lick, holding you open with two fingers, his other hand kneading at your thigh. He has the most gorgeous hands you’ve ever seen, and you moan, grabbing the leather couch cushions, then your skirt, twisting it around in your hands. You move your hand to your breast, kneading it roughly, twisting your nipple again, harder this time, making your hips jerk. You’d be embarrassed at all of the noises you’re making, except you’re too caught up in the feeling of his tongue inside of you, his nose brushing against your clit and his hands kneading at your thighs, which are spreading wider and wider, trying to take more of his tongue into you.
You whimper when he pulls away from you, looking down at him and whining. “Why’d you stop?” You wish your voice wasn’t quite so plaintive, but you’re so close, almost at your orgasm, and you’re so turned on you can feel it dribbling out of you, dripping along your thighs and over his fingers.
“I’ll keep going, I promise. I just want to do something else.” He smiles at you and pats your thigh. “Get on the couch. On all fours.”
“Are you going to fuck me?” You certainly wouldn’t mind, but you’d prefer knowing beforehand.
“I’m going to keep licking you,” he says, and you nod, climbing onto the couch in the slightly awkward position, your arms folded on the arm and your face pressed into them, your ass in the air. You can’t Escort Ankara smell anything but leather now, leather and your own arousal, and it makes you moan. You moan louder when you feel his fingers stroking along your slit, feel his other big hand reach down to play with your nipple, then move back to your ass. “Here. Is it okay if I lick you here?”
“Yes!” You wriggle your hips and widen your knees as much as you can, without slipping off. You know you should be embarrassed – you’re wide open for him, and he can see everything. You stop caring when you feel his tongue against you, sliding into your ass, while his fingers are slipping into you, curling to press you in just the right place, making your hips jerk forward. You sob into your arms, biting one of them and curling your toes, feeling the leather stick to your bare skin. You’re so turned on, it feels so good, it’s almost too much – his long fingers inside of you, his tongue doing things you’ve never felt before. Your knees are going weak, and you can feel them shaking as your orgasm sparks at the very edges of your nerves. Your fingers curl into fists, nails digging into your palms, and you’re trembling from the anticipation alone, because you know this orgasm is going to be amazing, epic, mind blowing.
You gasp when it hits you, your legs shaking as the muscles deep inside of you clenching and spasming, leaving your knees shaking, sobbing, actual tears dripping out of your eyes (to mingle with the sweat dripping off of your face, between your breasts, down the backs of your knees, your back , your belly) as you feel more fluid drip down your leg and onto the couch, mingling with the scent of the leather. Heat flows from the base of your spine outwards as you feel your muscles grip his fingers. The heat spreading under your skin leaves you panting, your toes curling, every hair on the back of your neck standing on end, the pleasure through your whole body almost impossible to describe, except that it leaves you stunned. You stay frozen for a few moments, your knees shaking, then you sag forward, face forward into the arm rest, your face in your arms. You whimper when he withdraws his tongue and his fingers, already mourning their loss, and you lie there, acutely aware of the way the leather sticks to your skin, the fabric of your skirt brushes against your oversensitive nipples, his big body curling over yours, the stubble on your face rubbing against your neck and the denim of his jeans against your bare legs.
“I’ve got a leather jacket,” he whispers into your ear, and you squirm, imaging being surrounded by the smooth, rich feel of the leather against your skin, the scent filling your mouth. You shiver, and he chuckles, his erection hard against your ass and his arms warm around your belly.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32