Breathing
Do you know those moments when you’re making love and you can’t quite breathe?
Do you know what I mean? I mean, of course, those times when you’re not sure whether to gasp for oxygen or press your lips to the lips of the one making love to you.
I mean those instants where reason has abandoned you and your body has taken over: your brain may scream for air, but the rest of your body is screaming for more contact.
There is a hand, a set of long fingers, pushing the tangled hair out of your face for better access. Warm lips are making their way up your neck and to your earlobe.
Yummy.
Breathing is not an easy task at this point, especially if there is a body pressed down on top of yours. Not that you are truly suffocating. There are just more important things to think about than breathing. Like how damn good it feels to be that close to another human being. That closeness is worth a bit of oxygen deprivation, right? Heck yes!
Eventually you take a deep breath, because those sighs being emitted from your lips require air for propulsion. You may not be a screamer, but you probably aren’t entirely silent, either.
His tongue makes another foray into your mouth and you are once again reminded of why you don’t mind that he chews gum almost constantly. Mmm, minty fresh.
Your teeth bump against each other for one awkward second, and then you settle into a rhythm of exploration. You are both breathing through your noses, and this ought to be an annoying sound but it actually amps up the sensations that your body is experiencing.
Music plays in the background, and, though neither one of you is paying much attention, the beat is driving your hips. Well, there are a lot of things driving your hips, but the beat is pretty crucial. Friction—or, rather, the want of it—might be another influential component.
If you had long fingernails, the poor boy’s back would be a mass of scratch marks. As it is, there are red marks forming on his ribs. He might also have some discoloration on his butt, since you were using that particular piece of flesh to pull him closer. Ah well, he doesn’t seem to mind. He got pretty personal with your breasts a few minutes ago, so call it repaying the favour.
You’re still getting used to the manoeuvring that is required to fit a man’s hips between your thighs. There are probably easier ways to do this, but it’s all still new and there’ll be time to figure it out later.
(reader submission)
