Mick's Mission

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Lilith Darville

Tom - Part 3

After he left, I crawled back into bed and cried myself to sleep.  I’d just drifted off when the phone rang.  I picked up the receiver; eyes still closed, and muttered a cotton-wool hello.  I heard a chuckle, and an adorable male voice said, “Get up, unlock the door and go back to bed.  If you have any clothes on, take them off.”  I was instantly excited.

My eyes flew open.  “Tom, is that you?  What are you doing?  Are you at work?  Why should I unlock the door?”

“Are you wearing any clothes?” Tom asked laughing.

“Aren’t you going to get into trouble?  Shouldn’t you be at work?”  As usual when excited, I babbled.

“I’ll be there shortly.”  And he hung up.

I was wide awake by this time and breathless with anticipation.  I unlocked the door, crawled back in bed and waited.  Time walked through quick sand and Tom didn’t come.  I grew certain it had all been a joke.  Depressed and eventually drowsy, I drifted toward sleep.

I awoke lying curled up with my back to Tom’s stomach as he gently ran his fingers over the length of my body.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he stroked me, covering almost every inch of my body from neck to knees. I reached for his touch like embers for bellows.  He whispered, revelling in the beauty of my physique as he explored, his breath a faint breeze stirring my ear.  Desire like I’d never felt ignited the unlit fire of my sexuality as I lay feeling him touch me as no man had touched me before and listening as his voice joined the caress.  For the first time, my juices started to flow over the crack of my ass and down my thighs.  My body took on a life of its own.  My breasts grew hard, pushing out my nipples as they burst under his gentle manipulations.  Frenzied with new-found excitement, I writhed and reached for him in a state of clumsy arousal.  Here was the birth of my impatience, or maybe it was just gluttony.  Whichever, I’d started to feel pleasure, and I couldn’t wait for more.  And I was sober.

Without words, but with firm pressure, he stilled me, making me wait.  I remember starting to whimper then feeling his full lips brush mine with quiet insistence, stilling me.  His murmurs assured me that we were in no hurry; he needed time to sip the nectar of my body.  And all the while, his touch, his desire, his attention made me feel I was the most desirable woman in existence.  His desire for me was opening up a depth of desire I never knew I had.  I turned toward him submerged in the responses awakening in my body. Feeling the nerves come alive, I yearned for him to touch me, although I dared not consciously think where.

Like a marionette, his fingers seemed to coach my thighs open as if he gently pulled the strings of my conscious will.  The tips of his fingers wandered up and down the insides of my legs, sometimes brushing over my sex.  Barely.  I tried to relax and enjoy the sensation but could not control the thrusting of my hips.  The entrance to my vagina tightened and throbbed with engorgement.  My mound strained toward his fingers begging for release from this building pain.  With each thrust, he stopped stroking until I won control over these involuntary contractions.  After what seemed an eternity, he began to rub his fingers up and down my clit, first dipping into the origin of my dripping juices then slowly spreading them around the entire vaginal area.

This went on for what seemed an eternity.  None of the usual sad excuses for what men called foreplay I had previously experienced.  He seemed like he had all the time in the world and wanted to take all that time with me.  When I was screaming with frustration, he slowly entered me, and began the dance all over again with slow rhythmic thrusts.  He asked nothing of me, but his body demanded everything of me.  I gave what I had.  It wasn’t much.  As our sweat-soaked bodies subsided into quiescence, he ran his fingers over my back.  He hadn’t leapt up; he was still there whispering about my beauty.  I lay worried that I wasn’t good enough for him.  I had no idea how to be a good lover.  As if he read my mind, he said, “We’re just getting started, my precious.  There’s more, much more, you’ll see.”