Unforgotten

I don’t resist as I feel my trousers slide over my buttocks and then over my legs, and soon after that his hands again on my skin. I am surprised that I don’t feel uncomfortable at all under his gaze, even though I can clearly feel his eyes on me, how they follow the slow lines his hands are drawing on my body. Everything feels just too good to make me uncomfortable. I notice that my breathing turned deeper and louder, but I think I don’t care. I don’t want to mull over it. I don’t want to think at all right now. I only want to feel and sense. And the sweet desire that burns within me tells me that I don’t only want to take, but also want to give. I want to touch, see, taste, smell, hear him. I want *him*, only him. And he shall know it. I want him to know that I desire him as much as he desires me, but this very moment... this very moment his caresses enchain me, tie me to the bed and make me motionless.

Bit by bit he moves deeper down my now completely bare body, caresses and kneads every inch of my glowing skin that his fingers can reach. I’m almost a little sad that he doesn’t pay more attention to my bottom. He only glides over it very tenderly, with just his fingertips, and then continues with my legs. But when he massages my thighs and later my calves so thoroughly and the last bit of tension seems to fall from me, I cannot suppress a sigh of pleasure.

I think I have never before felt so good in my life. I had a few affairs during the last years, and those were exciting and satisfying as well, but never before did anybody tend to my skin with that much devotion. Never before did somebody take his time to caress and fond my spine, the hollows of my knees, the soles of my feet, the crooks of my arms... Never before did I want it this way. I never would have thought that it can be that arousing to get stroked in all these places of my body, but now I know better. The blood has unstoppably gathered in my middle and I press heavily into the matress under me, although he works only my back all the time. The sheets are cool and a little rough against my sensitive, delicate skin that stretches over my impossible hardness, and I can hardly control myself. Determinedly, I fight the urge to rub myself against the blankets I am resting on...

Once again he seems to know exactly what is going on in my mind. When he finally starts to work his way up over my legs again, his hands carefully glide between my knees, then slowly along my inner thighs. I don’t hesitate, not even for a split second, as I open my legs a little for him. One of his oily, warm hands slowly yet determinedly pushes under me from behind, and without thinking about how begging I will probably look, I lift my pelvis a bit to provide him better access. The breath that I didn’t even notice I was holding rushes out with a soft moan of pleasure as his moist, sleek fingers at last close around me again and caress me with a torturingly slow rhythm.

~ ~ ~

I would love to go on pleasuring and watching him for hours and hours, but I slowly yet surely sense that my patience is leaving me. Apart from kissing me, he hasn’t been active at all tonight, and even though it is I who is doing all the touching and stimulating, he drives me crazy. It arouses me how his oiled skin feels under my hands, how he writhes under my touch, how he sighs and groans softly. And how he now longingly pushes himself into the lock of my fingers, rubs himself against my palm. I squeeze him a little more eagerly in my fist and he pants abruptly and in an oh so unbelievably erotic way.

“Turn around”, I tell him and I am startled at my own voice as it is unexpected throaty and uncontrolled. When he doesn’t react, I grab him by his waist with my free hand, rougher than I had intended, and he suddenly raises his head from the pillow in alarm. “Come on, Éomer, turn around.”

He does what I told him, and I have to withdraw my hand from between his legs, and then he lies under me on his back. The sight of his slightly flushed and sweaty face takes my breath away, and I quickly bend down to claim these wonderful, parted lips. He tastes intoxicatingly, of lust and strength and heat, and I lose myself into the passion of this kiss and it takes a few moments until I notice his hands on me, how they hastily fumble with buttons and laces of my clothes that I am still wearing. Judging from his visible impatience, he can hardly wait. Very good. I cannot wait any longer, either.