He worked his fingers gently into my white lace knickers and stroked slowly, teasingly, maddeningly. I trembled at the sensations that rippled out from my centre, feelings so strong and so powerful that I feared I might drown under them.
“Don’t be afraid, my darling,” he murmured against the shell of my ear. “I will never hurt you.”
He slid my panties down my legs, watching me with intense and lascivious eyes. Bringing the underwear up to his nose, he inhaled deeply, and the thought of him smelling my most intimate aromas made me flush scarlet and crimson.
He lowered his head between my legs, and I mewled as he began to lick me with long, torturous stokes. Like a shameless hussy, I ground myself against his face, eager for more. More of this sensation, more of his tongue, more of him. When he pulled away suddenly, I couldn’t help but cry out, “No, please. Don’t stop.”
“Shh, my love,” he cooed. “I promise that I will explore every inch of you tonight. But, first….”
I watched as he stroked his rigid length, a few slow tugs to prepare, before he slid on the condom. I closed my eyes, in a strange mixture of anxious trepidation and delicious anticipation. As he pushed his way inside of my tight flower, I remembered a piece of graffiti I once saw in a beach-side ladies room: “Virginity is like a balloon,” it read. “One prick and it’s gone.” 🎈
Inspired by Friday Flash No. 52- Red Balloon