Photograph property of Breath-Takers. Of course.
“I think I’m going to come.”
“Stop fucking yourself.”
She does.
“Relax. Watch what I’m doing. Take it all in,” I tell her. “Feel it all.”
And she does.
And with all the nuzzling and teasing and nibbling and slathering and suckling...
...Mai comes.
If I had to describe it, I think I’d say ‘It was as if she’d been told something that disappointed her grievously, and then had been punched in the gut’: Mai moans, then folds, all her energies going inwards as she trembles and whimpers and jerks and flutters...
I keep licking at her nipple.
“Can I have the other one done, please...?” Her request is hardly one I could refuse.
“On your side, please.”
And she does. She shifts over onto her side, presenting the other breast. As I approach it, Mai’s hand goes to the back of my head, her fingers caressing my scalp, and I begin to perform magic here, too.
“You still speak Russian.”
“Mmm...”
“Talk to me. In Russian. Say anything you want. Lie to me, if you want. But as I’m doing this, I’d like to hear you talking to me in your native tongue.”
Her initial words are a little thin, faint and reedy. But as I suckle, as I massage and knead the one I’d just attended to, they become more articulated. And the speed of her delivery increases. As does the coursing of her fingernails through my hair.
I pinch the other nipple, tugging on the post, really wrenching everything out from her chest. Mai cries out, but there’s an element of longing attached to her action, so rather than stop, I continue...and suckle harder.
“I...” Deep breath. “I can’t believe...”
“What’s that in Russian...?”
There’s a stream of words, absolutely unintelligible to me, but searingly intense, barks and yells and whimpers and everything in between...and on it goes.
She stares at me once more.
Only this time, I’m level with her. So she’s not looking down. We’re equals.
“What now?” she asks.
“You’re bored...?” I laugh.
There’s hardly a reaction. But even so, in her eyes, on her face... Adoration.
“This,” I tell her, reaching down to her pussy, placing my palm flat on her, then pressing in, ever-so-gently.
“Mmm...”
“Yeah?” I ask, even as her hips begin to gyrate, as her pelvis juts, as she attempts to increase the contact.
She nods.
“Clit...or coombe...?”
“Coombe...?”
“Vag.”
“I do want your fingers inside me.”
“Uh-huh...” I begin moving in a slow circle.
“But I think you could perform some magic on my clit.”
“What about both...?”
“I like the way you think!” she says, arms over her head, clearly relishing how I’m ministering to her.
“While I go back to suckling...?” I ask.
“No,” she replies, moving closer with her face. “I want that mouth on mine.”
And so for the first time, Mai Bailey and I kiss.
Now, you may or may not know that I love kissing.
Oh, I love just about everything connected to women. Their bodies, their minds, the way they move through the world, everything having to do with sex with them, oral, anal, a kajillion positions...
But kissing...?
Wowza.
Kissing is it.
Everything leads from kissing.
And to it.
And nothing is complete without it.
And the one thing that takes it to another level entirely is when your partner is enjoying herself so much that she’s smiling, nearly laughing as you’re kissing.
My index and middle fingers lovingly scraping Mai’s vulva-vaginal border, my thumb does something similar around her clit...including pressing down on the root, the mass beneath, stimulating generally, and on a large scale.
“In-side me!” she pleads, biting my lower lip.
“No,” I whisper, watching her eyes flash, hazel-to-olive-to-brown-to-copper...and back again. “Not yet.”
“Bastard!”
“That’s me,” I concede softly. “That’s me entirely.”
“Stop fucking yourself.”
She does.
“Relax. Watch what I’m doing. Take it all in,” I tell her. “Feel it all.”
And she does.
And with all the nuzzling and teasing and nibbling and slathering and suckling...
...Mai comes.
If I had to describe it, I think I’d say ‘It was as if she’d been told something that disappointed her grievously, and then had been punched in the gut’: Mai moans, then folds, all her energies going inwards as she trembles and whimpers and jerks and flutters...
I keep licking at her nipple.
“Can I have the other one done, please...?” Her request is hardly one I could refuse.
“On your side, please.”
And she does. She shifts over onto her side, presenting the other breast. As I approach it, Mai’s hand goes to the back of my head, her fingers caressing my scalp, and I begin to perform magic here, too.
“You still speak Russian.”
“Mmm...”
“Talk to me. In Russian. Say anything you want. Lie to me, if you want. But as I’m doing this, I’d like to hear you talking to me in your native tongue.”
Her initial words are a little thin, faint and reedy. But as I suckle, as I massage and knead the one I’d just attended to, they become more articulated. And the speed of her delivery increases. As does the coursing of her fingernails through my hair.
I pinch the other nipple, tugging on the post, really wrenching everything out from her chest. Mai cries out, but there’s an element of longing attached to her action, so rather than stop, I continue...and suckle harder.
“I...” Deep breath. “I can’t believe...”
“What’s that in Russian...?”
There’s a stream of words, absolutely unintelligible to me, but searingly intense, barks and yells and whimpers and everything in between...and on it goes.
She stares at me once more.
Only this time, I’m level with her. So she’s not looking down. We’re equals.
“What now?” she asks.
“You’re bored...?” I laugh.
There’s hardly a reaction. But even so, in her eyes, on her face... Adoration.
“This,” I tell her, reaching down to her pussy, placing my palm flat on her, then pressing in, ever-so-gently.
“Mmm...”
“Yeah?” I ask, even as her hips begin to gyrate, as her pelvis juts, as she attempts to increase the contact.
She nods.
“Clit...or coombe...?”
“Coombe...?”
“Vag.”
“I do want your fingers inside me.”
“Uh-huh...” I begin moving in a slow circle.
“But I think you could perform some magic on my clit.”
“What about both...?”
“I like the way you think!” she says, arms over her head, clearly relishing how I’m ministering to her.
“While I go back to suckling...?” I ask.
“No,” she replies, moving closer with her face. “I want that mouth on mine.”
And so for the first time, Mai Bailey and I kiss.
Now, you may or may not know that I love kissing.
Oh, I love just about everything connected to women. Their bodies, their minds, the way they move through the world, everything having to do with sex with them, oral, anal, a kajillion positions...
But kissing...?
Wowza.
Kissing is it.
Everything leads from kissing.
And to it.
And nothing is complete without it.
And the one thing that takes it to another level entirely is when your partner is enjoying herself so much that she’s smiling, nearly laughing as you’re kissing.
My index and middle fingers lovingly scraping Mai’s vulva-vaginal border, my thumb does something similar around her clit...including pressing down on the root, the mass beneath, stimulating generally, and on a large scale.
“In-side me!” she pleads, biting my lower lip.
“No,” I whisper, watching her eyes flash, hazel-to-olive-to-brown-to-copper...and back again. “Not yet.”
“Bastard!”
“That’s me,” I concede softly. “That’s me entirely.”
