Interstate Love Song, Part 2 of 3

You were trembling slightly, anticipation thrumming through you. The hem of your t-shirt barely covered you, teasing me with glimpses of the soft curve of your hips and the dip of your waist. A flash of bare skin here, the subtle shadow of your thighs there — just enough to drive me wild. I leaned down, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your calf, then another a little higher, following the heat of your skin up to your thigh. Your body tensed and melted in equal measure beneath my touch. My hands slid up, gripping your hips firmly, my fingers slipping underneath to grasp the full curve of your ass.

I moved painfully slow, drawing out the moment, savouring the build-up. Every inch of you begged for my attention, and I was in no rush to deliver it all at once. You did say you wanted to be teased, although by now it felt like I was teasing myself as well.

My mouth hovered just over your vulva, the last sliver of fabric barely shielding you. The heat radiating from you was undeniable, the smallest shift of your body pressing you closer, urging me on. I held there for a breath, watching, waiting, feeling you pulse with need beneath me. And then, finally, I moved.

I lifted the edge of your shirt to reveal your vulva, eager with anticipation, with short trimmed pubic hair. My eyes lingered, taking in every inch of your exposed skin, before I leaned back down, my breath hot against your inner thigh. My hands slid beneath you, fingers curling around the curves of your hips, pulling you slightly toward me. My mind flashed, just for a second, to the thought of you trimming yourself — an image so intimate, so tender, it made my desire for you even more unbearable.

And then, I tasted you.

You were glistening wet and radiating heat. I couldn’t wait any longer, and placed my mouth over your lips, and pressed my tongue inside you. The first stroke of my tongue sent a shudder through your body, a soft, helpless moan falling from your lips. You were impossibly wet, glistening with heat and need. I pressed deeper, letting my tongue explore you, savouring the way your body responded — hips lifting, thighs trembling, the ties around your wrists pulling just slightly as your fingers curled instinctively.

As you lifted my hands slipped below you, feeling the full curve of your ass, at which i let out a desiring moan, or grunt, of my own.

I pressed my tongue deeper still and gripped your bum with both hands. You were lifting and clenching in response, and using all the leverage you had with your hands still tied. I let my tongue trace upward, teasing, before circling back down and finding your clitoris, hard and ready. I pictured you grabbing my hair if you could, while I ran the tip of my tongue back and forth, your body quivering with every flick of my tongue and stroke of my lips. Your legs came up around my head, and I could feel you squeeze as you wrapped them around me.

I continued to flick and tease, while you lifted and swayed your hips, eager for maximum contact. I could only imagine how you felt, experience so much pleasure but with nowhere to go when it got overwhelming. I imagined you riding the crest of a wave that could fall at any moment, plunging you into depths of pleasure and driving you crazy.

I relocated a hand and slid my underwear off, which you didn’t notice but would in time. I ran the same hand up your thigh, and pressed two fingers smoothly into your vagina. You felt tight and there was resistance, but your overwhelming wetness made it easy. Your body answered, pushing toward me, wanting more. I gave it to you, my hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you even closer, my tongue teasing, flicking, and my fingers pressing deeper.

Your breath came faster now, each exhale shaky, filled with pleasure. I could feel the tension winding inside you, building, spiralling toward something inevitable. I let my lips close around you, sucking gently, then harder, letting my tongue roll against you while my fingers pressed in a steady, torturous rhythm.

I placed my mouth back over your vulva, my tongue pressing against you with urgency now, drinking in every moan, every shudder of your body beneath me. At the same time, I reached up, hastily pushing your shirt higher until it gathered just beneath your collarbones, revealing your breasts in the dim morning light.

They were perfect — soft, full, your nipples hard and eager for my touch. Wet from being inside you, I ran my fingers over them, watching as the moisture left behind caught the light. Your skin felt electric, and as my fingers found your nipples and began to squeeze and flick them, you let out a sound that was pure, desperate pleasure.

You were panting now, moaning without restraint, the sounds coming from your lips in a steady rhythm that only made me harder, made me want you even more. I leaned up, replacing my fingers with my mouth, my tongue circling one nipple before I closed my lips around it, sucking gently, then teasing it between my teeth. You gasped, arching into me, your body begging for more, and I gave it to you — switching to the other, lavishing it with the same attention, tasting the sweet salt of your skin.

As I shifted my position slightly, you suddenly tensed, your eyes going wide as you felt it — my cock, hard and straining, and casually brushing against the inside of your thigh. It was just a passing touch, a small, teasing moment, but I felt the way your breath caught, the way your legs instinctively parted just a little more.

I smirked against your skin. A new idea had taken root in your mind. A new desire, one that neither of us could ignore much longer.

I continued kissing you, my lips trailing across your skin, moving from your breasts to your chest, relishing the rise and fall of your breath beneath me. I kissed higher, up the delicate line of your collarbone, over the curve of your neck, where I felt your pulse hammering against my lips. Your skin was warm, fevered, and as I made my way back to your mouth, I felt your hands instinctively tug at their restraints, not to resist, but to reach for me.

When our lips met again, it was intoxicating — like I had been away from you for too long, though it had only been moments. Your mouth was soft and welcoming, your tongue meeting mine in slow, eager strokes, as if drinking me in, pulling me deeper into you.

As we kissed, my hips moved against you, and I felt it — felt the head of my cock brushing against your wetness, the slick heat of you coating me, making it nearly impossible not to slide inside right then and there. The temptation was maddening, the way you fit against me, how effortlessly our bodies aligned.

But I waited.

I kept our rhythm, my lips still tangled with yours, as I let my cock glide against your clit, teasing you with slow, deliberate movements. I could feel every shiver that ran through you, hear every breath that caught in your throat. Your legs shifted, welcoming me in, parting just enough that I could slide between them, nudging against your entrance, so close, so impossibly close.

Then you looked at me, your eyes found mine, and in that single glance, I knew. I saw the need, the ache, the silent plea, but I wanted to be certain. “Are you sure?” I murmured against your lips, my voice rough with restraint. You bit your lip, and nodded. Then, barely above a whisper, you breathed the word —

“Please.”

I had loved every moment of having you tied up — watching you writhe under my touch, seeing the pleasure ripple through you while you surrendered to the slow, deliberate teasing. The thrill of exposing you to me, piece by piece, feeling you tremble in anticipation. Two strangers, bound by an unspoken understanding, coming together in this shared, intimate hunger.

But I didn’t want to fuck you while you were still tied up.

(Continued in Part 3)