By Ritual

By ritual, he undresses her. He always undresses her. She lies on the bed, her breath short with anticipation. She looks at him knowingly. She knows what is coming next, knows the kiss, knows the gradual unveiling of her, knows the sounds that he will utter, half delight, half desire. The kiss comes, both gentle and passionate. His tongue is on hers and as if by clockwork a few seconds later, her centre starts to ache. She smiles internally at the thought that he can do this to her with a single kiss. She starts her dance, her squirming and writhing, grinding her arse against the bed and if he is close, her pelvis into his whatever, whatever she can come in contact with. He smirks. Now it is his turn to look knowingly at her. He knows her need has grown; her want is becoming unbearable for her. And so the unveiling begins, with unbuckling, unbuttoning, opening, yanking pulling tossing aside. She is now in her underwear and as he lays his hands on her flesh, a guttural moan escapes his lips as his anticipation builds. He is still fully dressed, as always, the bulge of his cock outlined against his pants, begging for attention. He bites at her nipples through gauziness of bra and she arches in response, her eyes now lustful and angry. He presses his whole hand between her legs, pushing the fabric of her panties against her wetness. Pushing it deeper, forcing the fabric into the slippery space between her lips as she bucks her hips up to meet his hand. He pulls her panties aside and slips long fingers between her, dipping into her wetness before sliding them deep inside. They let out simultaneous groans, she as he finds his mark and he as he feels her soft warmth encapsulate his fingers. One, two orgasms later and his clothes are removed quickly. He is poised over her now, his cock proud and beautiful, his arms and shoulders taking his full weight as veins bulge. She is desperate to take his cock in her mouth, to love it with tongue and lips and teeth, but she knows he will insist on fucking first. Always. Sometimes she begs him to allow her to taste him, but he always says no. And so, he places the head at her entrance and presses himself slowly inside. That first slide in slide out is pure bliss. There is something so perfect about that moment that sometimes she cries at how beautiful he feels, so hard against her softness, like all his love is pouring into her at that one point of contact. At that moment they are lost. So they fuck, and they love, and kiss, and suck and lick over and over again until they are exhausted, and there is nothing left but to lie on the bed motionless, she on her stomach, he on his back. He leans across and plants a little kiss between her shoulder blades. Runs his lips across the fine hair on her back, muttering words she cannot decipher under his breath. He plants another kiss, and another, on shoulders and back. She begins to respond, to start her wriggling and squirming, her arse arching up and legs parted. His hand snakes its way between her legs again and his fingers find their mark once more.