I’d rather burn with you

Yeah I know. I suck as a blogger. I will restart the 3days 3posts gig. Please forgive me.

This piece is from someone who hopefully will be a regular contributor to the Ghost Writer series. Her penname’s Ms S.Y and she will be writing very naughty stories. Here’s her first. Hope you guys enjoy 😉

I should be studying.
The books are scattered in front of me, my eyes scan the lines on the pages, I barely register a word.
All I can think of is you.

Your face.
Sculpted by the gods, with cheekbones that could cut glass, yet your cheeks are softer than a baby’s bottom.
That understated beauty that many skim over. They don’t have the depth or the presence of mind to appreciate the rawness of it.

Drawn by the obvious beauties, with the make-up and waist-length weaves, they look you over. They don’t see what I see.  I must selfishly admit, I’m glad they don’t. I’d hate to have to compete for your attention.

Those soft brown eyes, shielded by your thick, long lashes. The way the come alive, how expressive they are, the stories they seem to hold, but your mouth is never willing to share.

Your mouth.
Those soft, little lips I tease you about. Ridiculously thin for an African, and incredibly sexy. You always seem to be pouting, and it never fails to amaze me how cute and harmless you look, in contrast to how strong you are.

First time our lips met, I swore I hadn’t been living till you kissed me.
You walked up to me, with that oh-so-sexy determined look in your eyes, and kept walking towards me until my back was against the wall.

You face barely inches away from mine, you looked me dead in the eyes, and said, without any hint of emotion, “I know you want this just as bad as I do, but you’re too chicken. I won’t wait forever for you to make the first move.”

Your lips brushed mine lightly, hesitating for a second before your lips came down on mine, your hands cupping my face gently. My hands snaked their way around your neck and into your hair, grabbing handfuls of your springy curls, pulling you into  me.

Your tongue traced the outline of my lower lip, your teeth grazing it. Your fingers traced a pattern from my cheek to my chin, creating a series of imaginary loops. Your fingers continued down to my collarbone and then you abruptly took your mouth off mine and kissed my neck.

The little embers of desire that had been ignited by your touch had become a raging inferno.
I grabbed you by your tiny waist, pushed you up against the wall, using my substantial bust to pin you there, as my hands held your wrists together above your head.

I noticed we’d gotten an audience, mostly the horny stoners that typically hung back to observe these sort of things. I fixed them with a fierce look and they all averted their eyes. The rest of the party raged on, unconcerned.

I took your hand in mine, and led you up the out of the throng of people grinding against each other, up the stairs, in search of an empty room, and on the fourth try, we found one.

I pulled you in, locked the door and pushed you back against the wall. My lust-filled eyes devoured your body, and my mouth and hands acted accordingly.

You were always so brooding and quiet, I couldn’t wait to hear you moan. My mouth came back to your neck, trailing little bites along as I went. My fingers fumbled for your buttons, trying to unclasp them and eventually ripped them off.

My mouth danced to a rhythm of its own that night, working my way over your shoulders and across your chest. My tongue traced the outline of your bra. A few kisses later and it was off.

I saw them for the first time. your breasts. Two mounds of perfect flesh, perky to the point of defiance.
I stepped back to admire them, and reached out my hand to cup one.
A perfect handful for my small palms.

You pulled me towards you, kissing me, trying regain control of the situation. I let you take off my t-shirt, enjoying the view of strained nipples, when you raised my arms to pull the sleeves off my arms.
I wanted to lay you on the floor right then and discover all the ways I could make you scream.

You kissed me again, your hands massaging my full breasts through the bra. I felt my self get wetter with each stroke. Your hands pulled off the straps and I would usually have been self-conscious of my bigger, not-so perky breasts in comparison to your perfect ones, but my lust-haze didn’t permit any such thoughts.
All I could think of was you and how badly I needed you.

Off came the bra, and your hands rose to my breasts, your lips close to my ear as you massaged and kneaded them, telling me how beautiful you thought they were.
All I could do was moan.
Your mouth came onto my right breast, licking everywhere except my nipple, with bites in between, my hands buried in your fluffy hair, urging you on.
Your tongue finally got to my nipple, and the suction and licks were almost too much to handle.

I pushed your head off with a sigh, pulling you towards the bed. You had this evil smile of victory on your face I couldn’t wait to wipe off.
You straddled me, your long legs wrapped around my waist, and I wondered what you’d be like with a guy. I almost wished I had a strap-on so I could watch your face as a big dick drove into you.

In the absence of that, I resumed covering you in kisses, taking special care with each breast, teasing you with bites at your sides, your taut tummy, your neck again.
You started squirming on top of me, grinding your pelvis against mine.
I lifted you and spun you over, your back against the bed, I looked at your face and the “fuck-me-now” look you gave me was all the motivation I needed.

I started the excruciating process again. Kissing from your lips to your ears, your neck, I paused at your breasts; taking each nipple in my mouth, my tongue dancing over it slowly.
“Ohhh!”, I heard you moan and call out my name, your hips lifting off the bed and grinding the air.
I left your breasts and kissed down your belly. I loved how responsive your body was; how it came alive to my ministrations.

I’d gotten to your jeans and started kissing the flesh just above them, as I undid the button, zipped you down and you shimmied your way out of them.
The smell of your sex hit me straight across the face. In the best possible way. I put my hand on your mound. Your panties were soaked. I lowered my head and dragged your panties down with my teeth.
You were completely shaved, just like I’d hoped. I had to steady myself so I wouldn’t devour you in my excitement.
I stood up, shrugged my jeans and panties off while you watched me, my eyes never leaving your dripping slit the whole time.

I hoped you wouldn’t realize I hadn’t done this before, though I’d fantasized about it a thousand times. I had no idea what to do, so I did what I liked to have done to me. I kissed you all over, spreading you open slowly to admire that angry little power button, swollen and slick with juices. My tongue went over it. Slowly. Tracing an intricate pattern as I went along, massaging the side of your thighs that were locked around my neck.

I was finally hearing the sweet music I’d been waiting for and volumes of it. Your mouth was releasing all the curse words on the planet between moans, fueling me on.
My tongue licked all the beautiful layers surrounding your pink hotness, my thumb massaging your clit as I went.
My face was covered in your juices, my nose filled the smell of them , I inhaled deeply, shut my eyes and fucked you with my tongue.
I felt the spasms start to rock your body and then I decided to switch it up.

In went one finger.
You were already so close that your soft walls were clamping down on my finger.
Not so easy. I wanted you to come hard.
In went another finger.
You were shaking like a fish out of water, profanity spewing from your lips.

My tongue was back on your clit, massaging…

“Are you alright?”, someone taps me on the shoulder and snaps me out if my reverie.
I realize I’d been staring into space for quite some time. I blinked my eyes into focus and assured her I was fine.

Packing up my books, I walk out of the library. I run into my brother, his arms around your waist, kissing your neck and laughing.
I feel like punching him in the throat, but I hold back and remind myself he’s your boyfriend.

I force a smile and make the requisite jokes and exchange pleasantries before you both walk off. You look over your shoulder and
wink at me.

It’s a promise of things to come. I smile to myself, shake my head. If I’m going to burn in hell, there’s no one I’d rather burn with.

Please leave your comments. She will like to hear your feedback 🙂

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