She is gorgeous, backlit by the glow of the candles on my nightstand. Her strawberry blonde hair firey in the dim light. I see a twinkle in her eye, flickering, the smile on her face as her finger reaches that point.
The feeling is intense and unfamiliar. She knows she's found the spot and moves a bit to keep her barings, firming up the pressure. My thighs tense involuntarily, and my asshole contracts around her index finger.
“Ooh,” she says, leans forward and kisses me.
I'm exposed, on display for her, lying on my back on the chaise lounge, my ass propped up on a Wedge. “For easier access,” she said when she slid it under me.
“To what?” I asked.
She merely hushed me.
When her finger first arrived at the doorway, Liquid Silk running down her hand, she rubbed gently first clockwise, then counter, eyes never leaving my face. My eyes alternated between rolled up and closed, but every time I refocused on her, her eyes were smiling at me. My lover had a goal.
She slid her finger in, to the first knuckle, then second, then curved up. That same gesture that I'd perfected, that gesture that called to the G-Spot orgasm, asking of it the same thing that you'd ask of a person with that gesture. Please come here…it asked, and the G-Spot orgasms always came. But here was the first time this request was being made of me, and by a woman so determined to draw it out. The P-Spot orgasm within, the one that I'd told her seemed beyond my reach.
Now though, I wonder if I was wrong all along. As the tip of her finger massages my prostate, I feel something strong. A tug. Deep within, something new and different. And I sense she may be on the right path.
“Go ahead,” she whispers to me, grazing my cock with her forearm as she runs her tongue in a circle around my left nipple, a distraction perhaps because the pressure intensifies as a second finger joins the first. And now they're alternating, up and down. A distinct difference in tactic between my Please come here and hers. Shouldn't be a surprise, really, we are drawing two very different animals. Yet perhaps they are like the yin and yang, two sides of the same coin, the G-Spot and the P-Spot.
A sudden intake of breath, I gasp.
“Too much?” she asks, but she knows the answer. The question is to soothe any concerns I might have.
“No,” I regain my bearings just long enough to smile at her.
Time is elongated here, drifting on the sea, feeling the ebb and flow of that tug within, the one I don't know how to fulfill. My cock lies limp between my legs, but I know that's not even close to an indicator of what I'm currently feeling. This growing euphoria at the sensation as she begins to alternate fingers faster, massaging harder, back and forth and up and down. She knows that my body has decided it wants to focus all its energy on this concept once foreign, that it may not need my cock to cum, yet even so, she can't resist sliding down onto her elbows and gently sucking the head of my cock into her mouth.
Without her hands she pulls it deeper and then releases, deeper, then releases, awakening the senses once more, intensifying her fingering. She takes my entire cock into her mouth, running her tongue along the side of my scrotum. Again, this may be simply a distraction, for when I regain a modicum of awareness, I realize that a third finger has joined the first two.
My open, my mouth as well, about to protest that three fingers is too many, but this is simply a concept in my mind. Three fingers are getting along famously, and now rhythmically pumping the prostate, pushing that tug, that unnamable sensation forward until it throbs in my cock as well.
She catches my momentary hesitance, and a devilish smile crosses her lips.
“I should be fucking you,” she tells me in a sultry voice, knowing, commanding, but still allowing for me to reject the concept.
How could I possibly, though? With three fingers of her right hand buried inside me, kneading me like clay, her blue eyes twinkling in the candle light, how could I say anything but “Yes…please!”