“Your buttocks are breathtakingly gorgeous,” he said. “Your buttocks derange me. They drive me mad.”
He heard a giggle. “You can’t blame my buttocks for that.”
He stepped up to her backside and pressed himself to her, his cock against her lower back. “You feel my derangement?”
She took in a shaky breath. “Is that your pet name for it?”
She turned around, brushing his torso with her breasts. He put his arms around her, gazed into her eyes, and brought her fully against him. Her arms wrapped around his neck.
And as he kissed her, his hands went to her arse and he squeezed.You’re beautiful, and your arse is beautiful.
For the first time, he put his tongue in her mouth. A soft stroking. And she opened her lips and received him and played her own tongue along his, as he kneaded and petted and fondled her arse.
Her voice was husky when she said, “Shall we go to the bed?”
He drew down the counterpane, and they got into the bed together.
They lay on their sides, facing each other.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
He touched and kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders. He even nuzzled into the little tufts of hair under her arms as she giggled and squirmed.
He kissed her mouth deeply again as he brought his hands to her breasts. She moaned a little and he felt her nipples pucker under his rubbing thumbs.
Was he pleasing her? She was so much quieter than he had expected. He was used to a woman making all kinds of sounds before and during the act. Loud yelps. Shouted oaths. Screaming.
Her own hands were exploring him, touching his chest, his abdomen, his arms, his flanks and back. She squeezed his buttocks and murmured, “You’re not too ill-equipped in this area, either.”
He snorted, and she laughed.
He slid lower on the bed and began to kiss her chest. Only after he had gone over every inch of the skin of her breasts with his lips did he move to a nipple. He felt it stiffen under the caress of his tongue. He sucked a little. Her fingers sank into his shoulders and her pelvis arched toward him. He then paid the same attention to the other nipple.
“Oh, Kit. That feels good.”
“Good.” But was it? He wanted her writhing in ecstasy. He came back up to her face.
“Tell me what to do, Franny.”
“I want to touch your cock.”
He gulped. She ran her fingers lightly over his shaft. Ah. Sweet agony. Then she grasped him more firmly and began to stroke him.
She lay onto her back and spread her legs a little. “You touch me, too, Kit.”
“Stop.” He didn’t want to spend in her hand. And he needed to pay attention to her instructions. “You have to tell me what to do. To you.”
She stopped stroking but kept her hand on him. “Have you never touched a quim before?”
“Of course, I have, I just . . . I’m not sure anyone was very interested in showing me . . . I’m not sure—“
“I’d be delighted to tell you what I like.” She released his cock. “You’ll make me spend, all right? And then we’ll move on to the next thing. First, put your hand between my legs.”
Her confidence helped him believe he could do this. He put his hand between her thighs, a good six inches from her cunt.
“Cup me.” She sat up a little and reached for his hand and brought it up to her mound. “Feel me. Be gentle.”
She was so warm here. Her dark maidenhair was not as soft as the hair on her head but softer than his own coarse tangle around his throbbing cock. He ran his fingers over her outer lips, the crease at the tops of her thighs, and then dared to delve deeper and touch her wetness.
