1. Fever Dream


    Date: 9/12/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 15, Source: LushStories

    ass princesses in those Disney movies, beholden to man. Well, woman in this case. She makes me feel desperate. Weak. Dependent. And the cuffs certainly aren’t making it any easier. When she licks the tears away, I feel another flush of embarrassment burn my cheeks. Anger and lust burn hot. If I could, I’d break the cuffs, pin her down, and ride her face to a trembling orgasm. I settle for biting her lip when she leans in for a kiss and flash her a toothy grin when she reels back. An uncomfortably long pause hangs in the air as she perches astride my waist, hands cupping the small swell of my chest, fingers lazily tweaking my nipples. My throat tightens and I can’t help but think I just brought an end to it all. All I can hear is the fire and my heart beat. She doesn’t make a sound. And the damn blindfold hides all the finer details. I can make nothing of her out, just outlines and shadows. So when a loud, husky giggle pierces the silence, I let loose a strangled yelp, my heart feeling like it wants to jump out of my mouth and run through the snow until it escapes into the night. There’s a sharp click and the cuffs release their hold on my wrists. My arms, stiff and tight, start to fall limply to my sides. She catches them in surprisingly strong hands and plants a soft kiss on each sweaty palm, tongue lingering to taste the salty sweat. Then she’s pulling my arms around her and leaning close again. Her breath is spicy and she smells like wood smoke, clean sweat, and ...
    lemongrass. Once more, I try to break the rules, to get some kind of word in. But she captures my lips with hers and I go nuclear. The kiss is frantic and messy. The metallic taste of blood from her split lip fills my mouth and stokes my arousal to even greater heights. Strength returns to my arms and I crush her to me, my fingers threading in her soft tresses. Through the fog, an idea comes to me. The inner writer, the investigate reporter, always looking for an angle, always looking to get what she wants. Panting, breathless, the kisses slowing to soft, almost innocent pecks, I start to write. I trace the letters slowly across her back. I repeat each word a half dozen times until she catches on, realizes the stroking isn’t a simple massage. F. The kisses slow even more. U. Her slick forehead presses against mine. C. Her knee slips between my legs. K. Her pussy smears hot juices along my thigh. M. Her fingers tighten in my hair. E. Fuck me. Fuck me! I trace the letters over and over until her mouth curves against my chin, until her heart races in tune with mine. She shimmies down my body with cat-like graze until her breath is warm on my cunt, her hands pushing apart my now unbound legs. I lick my lips, uncertainty now flickering to life in my belly. I think back a mere two weeks, when we stole awkward kisses in the tenth floor lavatory, the button of my pants skittering across the tile floor, her needy fingers pressing against the damp fabric of my panties. That was a different kind ...
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