From: "Molly Dillhoff" Date: Fri, 19 May 2000 13:49:30 PDT Subject: Their Fatal Hands Source: direct Title: Their Fatal Hands (1/1) Author: Sol (mdillhoff@hotmail.com) Category: SR Rated: NC-17 of course Summary: Silent musings on a quiet Tuesday afternoon and what they lead to... Disclaimer: They ain't mine. I don't know them. I wouldn't want to. I'm just borrowing them. Author's Note: M/S sex. Sometimes I have a nameless, senseless urge. Deep in me, in the part that makes me a woman, I feel a throbbing. A pulsing. I may be a virgin, but I know what I need. I need him inside me. I need the heat of him, the hardness sliding smoothly in and out of me. I need his mouth on mine, on my breast, in me. I need him everywhere, surrounding me inside, outside, and cocooning me; making me his. I arch my hips futilely in my empty bed, searching for a feeling I know is out there, but forever denied me. I lower my hips and send my fingers searching. Even the pale shadow of that little death is better than the emptiness I have harbored for so long. My hands find the nubbin of tissue and fondle it. I moan his name as I feel a wave crashing toward me. A baby wave. Pitiful, but better than nothing. I swim upriver toward it, searching and straining... My fingers are lifted from their manipulations. I dazedly open my eyes and gaze befuddledly at his face. Before I can ask any of the questions trembling on my lips, his fingers replace mine in my center, and I abruptly forget everything but the unfamiliar flesh inside my passageways. I arch my hips off my bed, wanting more, and he obliges by slipping another finger inside me, then another, so that three fingers are rapidly pumping in and out of me and I can't take any more and it's no puny wave, it's a fucking tsunami, and I'm going under, stars in my eyes, the whole deal... I slowly floated back to my limp, sweaty, panting body on the bed with the awareness of dark eyes on me. I whisper some words to the effect that I want him inside me *yesterday* and he chuckles, unbuttoning his jeans and letting himself free. I stroke his erection, wondering at the beauty of the straining organ. He gasps and rips my hand off, pulling my head back to receive his ravenous kiss. He wants to swallow me whole-and I am perfectly willing to let him do this. I let my hands run down the rest of his magnificent body. His fully clothed body is arousing against my nakedness and my nipples have become rock-hard against the fabric of his shirt. I moan and pull his head down to one. He takes his time, placing kisses around the areola. Finally, *finally*, he takes it into his mouth. I moan once again, arching my chest into his mouth, digging my fingers into his hair to keep these sensations from ending. By this time, my knees will not hold me and I collapse to the floor, bringing him with me and pushing his erection into the center of my heat. He had switched his attention to my other nipple in our minor catastrophe while fondling the other, sucking lustily and sending waves of sensation to the newly awakened center of me. The pain I feel at his entrance only arouses me further, if this is possible. My toes dig into the carpet as I moan his name. I stroke his back and arch my hips, bringing him ever deeper inside of me. This is what I wanted. This is what I was craving. Him inside me, bringing me pleasures unknown... A change in his strokes signal to me that the edge is nearing for him. I don't believe that I can come again, it's simply too soon...but I feel the stirrings inside me, becoming ever stronger. He gives a muffled yell and jerks me closer, tighter to him, driving deep and holding there. I feel him, the essence of him, flood into me, burning me with the heat, his inner fire. A chain reaction starts inside me, burning behind my eyes and threatening to burst my brains out of my ears. I throw my head back and arch my neck, struggling to keep insanity in check. I open my eyes to see that he has fallen asleep or unconcious, one of the two. I snuggle up to his side, content finally now that I am satiated. I whisper to him of my love, and with that done, I fall asleep. The man on the bed opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling sightlessly, waiting a short time before covering the sleeping woman with a blanket. He flipped an errant lock back before putting his clothes back on. Looking back with intense hazel eyes, as if memorizing the scene, he turns off the light and shuts the door with finality, as if to say...that this would not happen again. Please please email me, I feel naughty now and I need reassurance