The Sin Like It Is....

Fingers curled around the hem of a shirt, my shirt, as skin brushed skin.

Shivers from the heat of the delicate pads of fingertips, hesitantly caressing the smoothness of another's painted porcelain as if the glass could shatter at a moments notice, just by the warmness of the heavy breaths and the desperation in the air. 

Before I could notice, mindless hands moved to hair, lightly yanking an intoxicating sound from addicting lips, awakening a sense of fervency from my tingling toes, up to my clenched thighs, to my throbbing and aching insides, even higher to my pulsing neckline, where sinful marks were placed dangerously down the side of the throat, making me move instinctively closer to the source of my desire.

Those fingers, calling out to my response, skim south over newly freed skin, caressing the smoothness of my feminine curves, melting the minutes of silence with each stroke of passion, every pinch and squeeze, joining the wetness of the tongue in leaving a trail of desire and ecstasy down my body.  Moments later, they reach another heat. My breath quickens in a gasp, as heavy eyes land on mine, and coax out an entirely new response from me. My fingernails curve inwards, urging them almost closer, as heated sounds continue to run from my lips, enticing another foreign sound from the other's swollen sinners. Fingertips, lips continue their lapping, sucking, pulling, in a rough pattern, as if this is natural to either one of us. One rough hand slides up the curves, caressing and squeezing, working the flushed skin until no crevice is left untouched. A whine slips as I yank, skin pressing on skin, until a warm wetness touches my face gently, hands still guided below, slipping fingers across the sensitiveness, while there's a pinch in my lower stomach. 

Words whispered as suddenly, everything stops, then heats up again to an even higher level. Desperate cries can be heard as a moment of gentle movement, fast then faster, quickened hands touching everything as slick smoothness of skin molds together, rocking and bending as one. The silence is broken by thick breaths, gasps even, as each are brought higher and highest, fingering, grasping the other, clenching and filling in every bit of space with another piece of skin, then suddenly, a pause before squeezing together one more time, matching releases as they relax, joining their fingers, lips, bodies one more time, not quite finished with one another. As if anticipating each others movement, the motions are fluent, effortless, loving. My lips meet their partners in crime, gently this time, but as desperate as if the moments before hadn't happened. One hand tracing the skin, as if it was the first time, so carefully, lightly touching the still trembling sensitiveness, readying it for another bit of heat, stroking its thick smoothness, caressing it again and again, as it twitches beneath my fingertips. Still breathless, my lips move forward, as my eyes meet a pair of smoldering ones...