Rating: NC-17
By Mary S.
She sat naked, hunched in an armchair, arms wrapped around knees that were pulled up under her chin. Her gaze was fixed on the man sprawled face down on the bed next to her. Beginning at his toes, very slowly she let her eyes wander over him.
My god, he was beautiful! His feet, broad and sturdy, the arch subtle, curving into strong ankles, then muscled calves which led to powerful thighs, sparsely covered with black hair. Thank goodness, like most of his people, he didn’t have much body hair. She had never liked touching hirsute men, probably because it felt like patting her dog.
She chuckled silently at the thought, then allowed her eyes to travel further up his body. Smooth, rounded buttocks sloped up to a broad back, which widened into powerful shoulders, muscles rippling under taut skin.
Skin – golden, darkening to bronze where a shadow fell across it. He had gorgeous skin that just begged to be touched, stroked and caressed. Her fingertips actually tingled remembering the feel and texture of him, and a slow curl of arousal crept down through her belly to her groin. She moaned very softly but didn’t move, unwilling to rouse him just yet.
Instead, she brought her gaze to his head, covered by heavy, black hair, curling slightly now that it had grown out from its regulation cut. That was something else she liked to touch. He always said how much he loved to run his hands through her hair and how glad he was she was letting it grow again, but his was just as sensuous. Thick, glossy, and very soft, with just a few gray hairs sprinkled through the raven black. He didn’t like them, she knew, despite her assurances that they gave him a distinguished look, in keeping with his current position as visiting professor. He’d retorted that she made him sound like a tribal elder, to which she’d replied that she didn’t imagine any elder alive had the stamina in bed that he did.
She grinned to herself. The man was a stud, pure and simple, and willing to try anything that would increase her pleasure as well as his own. She, who’d thought she was quite experienced in bed although she hadn’t had many lovers, had discovered that she was a mere novice.
Walls, tables, the floor, shower, the bathtub – anywhere and anytime, she could expect to feel his hands reaching for her, caressing her as his hot breath blew on her neck before his mouth came down on hers, and he drew her once more into their own secret world. She caught her breath as the coil of arousal increased, making her groin itch. Absentmindedly, she reached down a finger to scratch it as she debated whether to rouse him enough to get him to turn over. She didn’t want to wake him up, but she did want to continue her inventory of his assets.
Quietly, she eased out of the chair, then moved to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. She touched his shoulder, then carefully nudged his side, coaxing him over and onto his back. He muttered something unintelligible, and one eye opened slightly, but she quickly soothed him back to sleep. In moments, he’d settled down again.
She returned to her chair and resumed her previous position.
Starting at his feet again, she admired his toes, surprisingly long with nails trimmed short. His feet were big, like his hands, she thought. Her eyes slid up past rounded calves and knees, to sturdy, muscled thighs. His legs were spread apart, one knee bent slightly, giving her a clear view all the way to his groin. She licked her lips slightly, remembering all the things she liked to do with that groin.
She could see the heavy sacs of his scrotum, sagging slightly with their own weight, and just behind them, the very sensitive spot that, when stimulated, was guaranteed to send him into overdrive. Above the sacs lay his thick penis, flaccid now, nested in thick, wiry black hair. One of her favourite pastimes was to bury her nose in his groin, licking, smelling, tasting, touching and looking. She could quite happily indulge all five senses for hours just in that one area of his body.
As if aware of her scrutiny, his penis twitched slightly and began to lengthen. She watched, fascinated, as slowly the big vein running along the underside became engorged with blood. He moaned and tossed his head, eyelids fluttering. Must be a good dream, she thought, watching him thicken to a full erection. His hips shifted, jerking slightly, as he muttered something she couldn’t make out. Again, they jerked, harder, as unconsciously, he dug in his heels and arched his back. She could see his buttocks clench, straining against the mattress, his body twisting. His mouth was open now, breath coming in shallow pants.
She felt herself react, nipples hardening, her vagina swelling and lubricating, so that she left a damp spot on the chair. She caught her lip between her teeth, biting hard to prevent the moan that would surely wake him up.
He groaned once more, then relaxed, the dream apparently having ended. His penis gradually softened until it rested, semi-erect, against the top of his leg. She resolutely pulled her eyes from it and continued up his body, past the firm muscled abdomen and trim waist, to the wide, smooth chest and flat nipples, which she so loved to lick.
She sighed and kept going, determined now to finish before she gave in to her arousal and disturbed him.
Her gaze slid over the thick neck, then down one strong arm to his hands. Oh, how she loved his hands! Long, broad fingers that could curl into a powerful, destructive fist or tease her with feather-light touches to her most sensitive parts. She panted softly, the memory so tangible that she could almost feel him touching her. Her eyes returned to his arms, thinking how secure and protected they always made her feel. She could quite happily spend the rest of her life nestled in those arms – and with any luck, she told herself, she would.
His face – she could contemplate it forever. A broad forehead surmounted on one side with the mark of his people drawn in elegant indigo lines. Thick black eyebrows surmounting wide, deep brown eyes, eyes she could drown in. The windows of the soul, he’d told her, and his certainly were. They might dance, twinkle, laugh and tease, or snap, scowl and fill with fury. But they could also glow warm with love, or hot with passion, piercing her until she couldn’t look anywhere but into them. For now, they remained closed as he slept, but she knew that soon, they would caress her once more. She shivered slightly in anticipation.
On to his nose, slightly bent from a fracture long ago. She’d asked him once why he hadn’t had it straightened, but he’d refused to answer, except to say that it had been broken honourably, and he respected the scar. She hadn’t understood then, and didn’t now, but it no longer mattered – it was part of him, of who he was.
Finally, her eyes came to rest on his mouth. She could never make up her mind exactly which part of his body was her favourite – an impossible decision – but this was certainly very near the top of the list. He had such a beautiful mouth, the lower lip full and bowed, the upper shaped and curved in two perfect arches, just begging to be kissed. She loved to tease him by running her tongue over each in turn, licking and sucking, tasting him, until he couldn’t stand it any longer and kissed her back hard.
She sighed and let her eyes close slightly, thanking whatever gods watched over starship captains for giving her this man, for letting them finally come home to each other.
A slight sound made her look up, to find his eyes open and fixed on her. He lifted a hand, reaching out to her. She smiled and rose to move to his side, standing and looking down at him.
“What were you doing?” he asked softly.
“Nothing – just looking.” She paused, then added, “taking inventory.”
He grinned, his dimples flashing, and reached to pull her down on the bed beside him. “You were, were you? Well, my love, turnabout’s fair play.” He leaned over her, then dropped his mouth to hers as his hands slid to knead her breasts. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, letting instinct take over.
Life was
good.
The End