He Took Me On The Rug By The Fire

I had just lit the fireplace when he walked in, smelling of leather and spice. His hands were cold from the weather and I let out a squeak when he lifted the bottom of my gray knit shirt and warmed them on my abdomen.

With his lips on mine he backed me into the living room and slowly worked his fingers up my midriff to the teal lace that covered my breasts. My nipples, already hard, happily sprang from their enclosure as he unhooked my bra. In swift, fluid motions I was stripped of shirt, jeans and underthings. He pulled my naked flesh against his clothed body and began rapidly coating my skin with searing kisses. I arched against him, my head tilted back and my hair grazed the lower half of my back.
Wordlessly we sank to the floor, the softness of my chenille rug cushioning our decent.

He unzipped his pants and his hard cock sprang forth, throbbing and ready. In the flickering firelight as he hovered above me he looked like a conquering hero of old. His blue eyes softened as he looked into my green ones.

And then he entered me, slowly, gently. I bucked against his pelvis, attempting to hasten the coupling. Taking my cue, rapidly he rode me, the hardwood floor beneath the rug letting me feel every thrust and parry.

My orgasm came fast and hard. His followed soon after so that as I was recovering from mine, I felt him pulsing and then surging deep inside my clenched channel.

“Hi,” Nathan whispered in my ear.

“Hi,” I whispered back, smiling as I realized neither one of us had said a word until that moment.

41 thoughts on “He Took Me On The Rug By The Fire

  1. I’m honestly happy for you because he seems like he could have substance. It does makes me wonder…will he be a fish in a basket, a love in a casket or your tender heart’s gasket. ( sorry – had wine with dinner- words start to fling)

Talk to me. Please.

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