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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Adult · #2182728
Laying in bed tracing letters on skin. Jim and Kimmie pick up where they left off.
Jim led me up the stairs to our bedroom. Our playing around on the couch got hot and heavy. I could still taste Jimmie’s saltiness. We left our discarded clothing on the floor. My honey pot was still tingling from the workout he gave it. He had something he wanted to show me, and it wasn’t that. I handled that for him on the couch. Jim carried an uncorked bottle of wine and two glasses in his big hand. He pushed the door open to reveal his secret.

“Jimmie, my God this is gorgeous. So many candles. I want to light them all. And the flowers are just beautiful.” He had bought a nice assortment of red and yellow roses. I walked around the bedroom lighting about a dozen candles of various sizes and colors and smelled the roses he placed on the dresser. He poured both of us a glass of wine.

Jimmie lifted his glass in a toast, “To us, babe.” We drank from our own glasses and then did the silly thing you see on TV when the couple wrapped their arms together and drink from their glass. It was fun. Jimmie getting that contract really put him in a mood tonight and I loved it.

I went over to the bed and stretched out on my side. He finished his wine then refreshed both our glasses. I patted his side of the bed. “Come on.” I gave Jimmie my best come hither look batting my eyelashes. He got the message and laid down beside me.

“Kimmie, I think I’m madly in love with. Does that scare you?”

“No, it doesn’t scare me. And you think. You don’t know?” I tried not to show a little irritation, but he picked up on it.

“That didn’t come out right. I know I love you but I’m afraid you might get sick of me. This is the first contract in weeks I’ve landed, and you work all those doubles to make up the slack. That’s all.”

“Look, that’s just what couples do. Support each other. I don’t mind the doubles. And when you do get a contract, you bring home more than I do in a month. So, forget it and don’t worry.” I ran my fingers up and down his thigh. I teased the curly dark hairs and tried to wrap them around my fingers. I could feel the muscles tense under my touch.

He rolled over and up on one arm and brushed my hair back off my eyes. Jimmie ran his hand over one breast and played with the already erect nipple. His finger tip orbited my nipple in small shapes as though he were tracing circles. The roughness of his hand kneading my tit excited me. Jimmie reached over me and dipped his finger into my wine. His finger circled my nipple again and then the other. He dipped his finger into my wine glass again and traced an “L” on my left and a “K” on my right.

“What are you doing, silly?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Writing. I wrote “Look” using your areolas as the “O” s. Isn’t that what women want? They want a man to look at them. Right. Not that “my eyes are up here” stuff. Women want men to look at their tits.”

“Of course, we do. But not to stare. Just a quick look so we know that you paid our tits homage.” Jimmie’s smile could lite up a room. He traced my lips with his finger freshly dipped in my wine glass. The taste of his finger was exciting because I knew where that finger had been half an hour ago. My own taste was different. Jimmie said I tasted like fresh plums in spring, but I decided my taste was more like warm cider in autumn.

He moistened his finger again with his own saliva and began tracing letters across my flat stomach sending little flashes through my body. I could feel the letters as he traced his finger up and down, then side to side. First the “I” followed by “L-O-V-E” then “Y-O-U” written across the white skin of my tummy.

I looked up at his face. He was still smiling. “What are you up to, mister?” I asked knowing full well where we were going. Jimmie didn’t answer but dipped his finger in my wine and traced the outline of my navel as he wrote out, “I want you.”

He rolled over on top of me and I could feel his weight pressing down on me. My legs spread with a will and need of their own. I could sense a burning building up inside me. I needed to be filled. Jimmie’s mouth crushed down on mine. My breath caught in my throat as I felt him shift his weight. The head of his penis firmly against the opening that needed attention. My heart pounded against my chest as I wrapped my legs behind his ass holding him in. I moved my hips up allowing his penis to slide into my waiting, needy hole. Jimmie buried his manhood in my dampness.

“Again?” I asked looking into those dark eyes.

“Always, babe. Always.”



(WC: 869)

Prompt: Touch - Tracing Words on SkinOurr




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