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The escape and rescue. The end.

And then I wait.

I keep my hand so still in that place as I feel you come to life, no words, no acknowledgment that we're even awake, just gently nudging, pushing up against my hand, becoming way more than a handful, before you turn around, and I do so in unison, so I am wrapped up and spooned and smiiiiiiling, with that cock, now wide-a-fucking-wake, nudging up at my curvy arse. But no eyes open, and maybe it's a dream; I, on my side, back to you, lift up my leg, and your big, now fucking rock hard, cock sneaks up and sniffs at those open lips of mine, and nudges in its head for a tiny peek, before pulling back out again and rubbing up and down between my wet-wet aching lips.

I push my arse further up against you, as you tease around that opening, and I give a little moan, before turning around to meet you.

You push me onto my back and me, I'm not arguing, not one bit, eyes, mine, big, blue, wide open, watching you intently, looking up at your face, but you not looking into them at all... a man on a mission, and you nuzzle your way down my neck and nibble and gnaw at my breasts. You bite gently on a nipple, which rises to meet you, and I close my eyes and stroke your beautiful head, run my fingers through your hair, as my back arches feline-like, pushing my voluptuous breasts up and into your face. There'll be marks for sure, and in the days that follow every time I look down to put on my bra I'll smile like the pussy that got, or is about to get, the cream.

I am just mmmm-ing and wanting that goddamn dick of yours so much at this point, and when your hand moves down, my legs are open wide, desperate for your touch, your rub, up and down around my whole pussy, which, frankly, and at the risk of becoming appallingly clich__d, is on fucking fire. My rounded hips push up to meet your hand, as it snakes its way down, and then I close them just before you reach your goal and turn myself slightly around, just a little out of access. For the first time, you look up at me, taking your attention away from the task at hand, and shake your head like I'm some naughty school grrrl. I am jelly and you, not roughly, but firm for sure, make it clear who's the boss. You steer my body back onto my back and push open my long legs; I don't need persuading.

You open me up, put your face right down there and suck me like a goddamn juice-dripping peach. Just, wow. What you can do with your mouth should be bottled and sold on the open market, and you, my friend, would be a fucking millionaire. Taking in that whole area, somehow you manage to be nibbling at my clitoris while poking with that tongue, down, in, at exactly the spot which is burning to be poked.

So... if ever a woman were ripe for the picking, I would be that woman.

And then you stop. You stop and reach over to the dressing table and start scrabbling around while I watch and resist the temptation to ask what's required.

You grab hold of some kind of lotion, hand cream maybe, and pop the lid, before straddling me and easing your way up my body so that you're seated astride me, round about my waist, and I watch as you squirt cream all over my chest and into your own hand.

I see where this is going and let you rub that cream on me, massaging it into my breasts, while I scoop some of the lotion from your palm and take hold of your shaft, which has edged up my body a little and can all-but look me in the eye.

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