Holding Hands

4 min read

photo: SexArt

The lamp is projecting its warm light in the bedroom of the rooftop apartment in the old town of that French city by the sea. She is lying on her back and our little love dance is about to start. Her hands get a hold of mine and with our fingers intertwined she places them on the bed above her head. She is a strong girl, but sometimes, she feels the need to give control away.

The bed has this metal bedstead, and on one wall there is a mirror silently witnessing our playfulness. It has been a few weeks since we last saw each other and I can see the hunger in her eyes. She pulls her legs up and makes place for my manhood. We are trying to lock each other into position, and she moves her hips up and down until I am at the entrance of her pleasure. I can feel her desire for me, in the way she looks at me, and the way her body cradles mine to let me into her secret garden.

She is wet, as in, ready wet. We had been walking through the narrow streets of the old town, holding hands, hugging each other and sharing passionate kisses in corners. All that foreplay is showing now, for I only need to begin sliding my tip inside of her to realize how her well of desire is starting to overflow. She keeps my hands holding hers above her head while arching her body to let me in. She wants me to slide it all the way. We are like a well oiled rig, working together for our mutual benefit. Bespoke made to fit each other.

Our dance starts in slow motion, the antithesis of what rabbits do. We start slow and the rhythm of her breathing matches the circular motion we are into. It is like the old steam trains as they were set into motion. Firm and slow first moves which slowly build speed. I lower my head to kiss her and she welcomes me with her mouth wide open. My pumping accelerates a little as she kisses me passionately. I can feel her concentrate on the task at hand. Her body is telling me to keep doing what I’m doing, and I am happy to obey her unspoken wishes.

I let go of her hands and place my elbows on the mattress. I want to hold her and place my forearms under her shoulders. I know this will be the moment when she will scratch my back with her nails. We never feel when it happens, we only admire what she has done after the fact. Right now we are too focused on building her momentum for her first O.

I know we are getting close when she stops kissing me. She needs to concentrate on her breathing. I turn my head to the side and see our reflection in the mirror. Her legs are on top of my back and we are rocking this bed together. The mattress is starting to squeak, giving us away. But we are at the rooftop, there will not be any neighbors to keep awake at night. We like to hear the rhythm of our love making reflected in the bed.

She is getting close. I can hear it from her moans. Suddenly she arcs her back, and places her hand on my butt to hold me into position. Her legs start to shiver. I hold her with my arms, and after the second shake she moves me out of her by pushing my chest with her hand. I wait patiently with my tip at her entrance as I see her shaking one more time. I need to give time for her sensitivity to go down a notch. I know her senses are in overdrive down there and any slight movement I do gets amplified for her.

Her eyes are shining with passion and after she gathers her breathing she uses her leg to push me back in. She pushes my chest up until she has me at arm’s length, and places my hands on her neck. She wants me to hold her tight, almost choking her, but not really. We are not into SM or hard play. I would never want to hurt her even in a figurative way. But I respect her need to be held tightly.

It is a strong contrast to the strength of her personality. When we walk together she has this strong march, like someone going places. She has a very elegant posture, and her gait is something that passersby admire. But in this tiny room she needs to give control away, and she has chosen me as the one she trust to go through this. I feel humbled by this fact.

My hips are moving faster this time. Her legs are crossed behind my back. I can see the expectation in her eyes. Her beautiful long hair is covering part of her breasts, but I can see her nipples standing up, as if they were soldiers mounting guard. She has moved from Aahs into yes, yes! I can see how she prepares to land her second O of the night. Sometimes she tells me that orgasms are not important. One time I counted eleven of them in a single loving session. I know that she wants to take away the pressure of having them. Still to me it is extremely rewarding to feel her reach them.

Just as she is doing right now. I can feel how she slows my motions and pushes me all the way inside until I feel her walls cave in. As if in an earthquake, I can feel the aftershocks. She has her eyes closed, trying to capture the moment and not let it go away. I see her Mona Lisa smile, and the way she opens one of her eyes to look at me. Again she places her hand on my chest and moves me out.

I am a patient man. I know to wait with my tip at her entrance until she recovers her breathing. It is too sensitive for her down there right now, but I know she will be coming back for the encore. She grabs my butt with her hand and drives me in again. I hold her legs above my shoulders and place her feet on my chest. We need to accommodate and the first time I go in I hear her gasp. She feels me too deep. I ask her if she is ok and she mumbles a version of a “no-yes-it’s-ok.”

It is as if we were drilling deeper in the well of pleasure. This third act is where we melt together. When I move all the way in I lose sight of where my manhood ends and her pleasure starts. It is as if we are one body only. She looks to the mirror and I can see the curiosity in her eyes. She grabs my butt with both hands and pushes me as deep inside of her as I can get. Fireworks will start for her again in a second. I can see the spark in her eyes. She starts to laugh, that special laugh of hers. Once she starts she can almost not stop. I can feel her body rocking with the contractions of her third O.

I let her legs go, and move down to kiss her on the lips. Her kiss is telling me everything. Her happiness, her exhaustion. I can feel her heart beating fast and the shaking of her lower muscles. I look at this fantastic woman that destiny put in my path. And I am so thankful for her having chosen me as her guy. It is right at this moment that I know that love is indeed the answer, and the quest. The reason and the reward. The sweetest thing, and the meaning of life.

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