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“Remembering the smell of your skin.” (Six Sexy Words via an-experienced-gentleman) Before I even open my eyes I bury my face deeper into the sheets and inhale. Your scent is still here and I want to lie for a moment and remember all the things we did last night. Images run through my head. The way you kissed me mid-sentence, your hands in my hair…I got lost in the taste of you and the luxurious rub of your tongue against my lips. The way you walked into the room like you owned it and pushed me up against the closed door. The weight and heat and hardness of your body over mine. The sting of your hand on my ass, how I desperately wanted to stay still but couldn’t as you kept up a steady rhythm. Even now, I squirm and clench at the memory of me draped across your knee, your stern voice and filthy words making me leak onto your pant leg. Of their own volition, my hands wander across my skin. It doesn’t feel like mine anymore. You claimed it, made it yours. Kissing and touching and grabbing. Bending me to your will with the swipe of your tongue against my clit and the press of your hands when you pinned me down and fucked your cock into me. I roll over and clench my thighs to relieve the ache that has started to build. Already? How can I want you so soon? I inhale again and this time your scent is mixed with the musky tang of my own arousal. Without conscious thought, I slide my hand along the puffy, swollen lips of my pussy. My skin is hot and damp, like wet silk under my fingers. I imagine it’s your hand, your voice in my ear. I replay all the filthy, sexy things you're growled last night. “You like being my little slut?” “Look how wet you get for me.” “Don’t you dare fucking cum until I say you can.” “Take it for me. Good girl.” “Cum for me, soak my fingers, little girl.” A soft moan escapes me as I think about the last one. My hips arching off the bed as my fingers play in my wetness, running over the hard bud of my clit. My other hand finds the tightened furl of my nipple, rock hard and aching for your mouth. I pinch it, loving the sharp sensation that zings down my body - a direct line of pleasure from my nipple to my clit. It’s so tender, sore from the way your ravenous mouth treated it like the most succulent fruit you’d ever had. The echo of the pain of course only adds to my pleasure. I rub faster, pinch harder, breathe deeper until I swear it’s like your back with me, working my body to your demands. I remember the way you looked when I came for you. And the way it felt when you finally lost control. The feel of your cum splashing onto my skin, proof that I made you feel, just for a moment, the same kind of ecstasy you give to me. It’s that memory that pushes me over the edge again this morning, my fingers working my clit until the pleasure spasms through me - nowhere near as intense as the orgasms from last night, more like a delicate aftershock that only serves to make me want you more. You own my pleasure now. I can’t get enough. exoticeva~ *Archive  "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.” |
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The sense of smell is a very basic one, biologically speaking. It can affect our feelings deeply, both in good and bad ways. Can inspire great moods and ruin them.
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Love breathing in their scent and filling the senses with their being...
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love pinch in your nipple who connect to your clit thats so right many spots on the body connect to eachother
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Scent casts such a strong memory. "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.”
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