Audrey and I have been talking a lot recently; we discussed the inspiration picture, the construction of "my Audrey" like I saw someone say in another group about their significant other and we decided that outside of negotiated BDSM, we don't like that "my," that seeming ownership that too many monogamous people insert into their relationships. We continued to look at the picture and consider it as we've made love recently, talked about our other relationships (we're both polyamorous and actively engaged in more than one romantic/BDSM commitment). And finally, while the picture is of an apparently white person with a breast, I saw Audrey in the picture, even as my mind struggled for words to describe her skin tone other than "food" words; she still laughs though when The Queen/Onyx and I think of her as "a perfect cup of coffee."
I stand at the open doorway and gaze at Audrey sprawled in the middle of my bed; the gray of the comforter's edge against her tawny skin encourages wetness to gather in my mouth and between my legs as my mind wanders beneath the blanket. "Love?"
Her gaze meets mine. "We're speaking?"
"Well for now, since our mouths aren't otherwise occupied." I grin as images of sucking her cock earlier in the day dance across one of the movie screens in my mind. Slowly I approach the bed as her hand drifts down her breasts, then her stomach only to pause just above the comforter's edge. "Tease," I murmur, the huskiness of my voice surprising me. I look back at her chest, the beauty of her breasts startling me; I seldom like breasts, although especially my own, but the pleasure of seeing her lovely breasts holds me. "Tell me about your breasts," I plead again.
"These old things?" Her grin matches mine of minutes ago as her other hand returns to her breasts. "Around about twelve, rather than boy things happening to me with puberty, my chest ached something fierce. I didn't think nothing of it at first, but when I started to grow small breasts like my momma, she taught me how to hide them when I was out of the house. My misadventure taking HRT on my own in my thirties got them to this B cup you and Onyx love so much on me."
"You should have asked Dr. Karl, love."
"Yeah." Her hand starts moving underneath the blanket. "You gonna cuddle or just continue to watch?"
"Cuddle?" I rest my knee on the bed not far from her hip.
"Get under here with me." She grabs my arm and tugs me against her. "Love my sweet girl."
"Now that's not like a title, little love."
"Love you." I kiss her cheek and relax into the essential oils gracing her beautiful skin. "How long you've been waiting for me?"
"Long enough that I'm most ready to orgasm."
I press hard against her, feeling the skin of her hip rub against my clit. "Most ready," I echo.
She flips the comforter so it rests at her knees. Her fist wrapped around her cock speeds up with no fabric in the way.
I swallow; pre-cum shines on the tip of her cock. My nipples throb as I lift my chest to get a better look at her masturbating. I let my fingers brush her nipples as my eyes close to enjoy her moaning in the momentary darkness of my unlit mind.
"Joelle," she whimpers.
Without opening my eyes, my body moves so my cheek rests on her lower belly. I part my lips as the salty odor of her pre-cum teases my nose. She slides into me and I wrap my lips around her just before she starts to ejaculate. I stretch my legs, my toes point, my hips go rigid. I lovingly swallow her cum as the pleasure and release of my orgasm dances through me. Love you, feel so good, trips in writing across one screen and she smiles at my thought words.
Her hands on my shoulders, she leads me back up the bed, my cheek coming to rest on her breast. She moans again when I open my mouth to pull the nipple between my lips.
Her worry when I worked out her age flashes on a different screen.
Love you forever.
"Love you, little girl."