1. For The Taste Of It


    Date: 3/4/2020, Categories: Fetish Author: WannabeWordsmith, Source: LushStories

    Nobody has seen this bedroom but me. It's my sanctuary. Even stood naked in the doorway with the lights off, its mere smell calmed my racing pulse. Above the faint stuffiness of being sealed, earthy low notes swam across my nostrils, a rawness to them mixed with edgier tones. Lust. Desire. Unbridled masculinity. In the rectangle of light from behind me that cast my shadow into the gloom, I shivered, but not through cold. It rippled through my body, all the way from toe ring to scalp where my mane of blonde hair cascaded to brush the full-colour dragon tattoo at the base of my spine. The wall lights sprang to life as my fingertip found the switch. 2900K bulbs. Chosen specifically to bathe the minimalist spare room in a soft yellowish glow that mirrored the long tail of my orgasm as it continued to warm me. His scent still pervaded my body. Clung to me like an invisible second skin, inside and out. Leaving the key in the lock, I padded across the plush cream carpet to the queen size bed along the far edge, the condom swinging from my fingertips under the weight of its contents alongside a toned thigh. His delicious salty essence, captured. All mine. To do with as I please. Right here. Right now. A curious mix of exhaustion and sexual energy swamped me after the two-hour cycle of build-up, torment and release, over and over, each level more intense and thrilling than the last. Our bodies had been slick with sweat, gliding together, nails clutching and digging, desperate kisses ...
    ... and bites across tender flesh. Exploring. Experimenting. Pushing boundaries, just the way I like it. I licked my full lips, finding no remaining trace of Chanel Incandescente; all transferred to his tender neck, firm chest, firmer cock, and more. A smile formed at the fresh memories as I slithered onto the bed and crawled to its centre. My glazed pussy lips rubbed together. Felt… exquisitely used. Tingly. Unsurprising, really. Even by my standards, I'd been wild. Virtually insatiable. It took him by surprise at first, but he soon caught on. Matched my licentiousness, as I suspected he would. That's primarily why I'd chosen him at the club. Saw his potential beyond the chiselled looks and impudent charm he exuded. Singled him out through the crowd among the lasers and dry ice and crushing wall of drum 'n' bass. Danced with him, gyrated against him, snared him. I doubt he'd ever be the same again, but it's the price paid for selection. And I was very clear up-front, leaning into his ear as we flirted by the bar and rasping, "Be warned: I will ruin you." He followed willingly. Of the three orgasms I'd coaxed from his supercharged body, the contents of the condom represented his first. Voluminous and equally as impressive as the second and third that swam inside me, dancing on my taste buds and leaking from my heart-shaped peach that deformed the sheets as I sat cross-legged and basked in the room's lush warmth. Draping the condom across my knee so it dangled, careful not to spill ...
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