Soft cotton and vanilla

What if you found me seated, gathering wool, bare chested and belt loosened, pleased to see you?

Would you straddle my lap with your lovely strong legs? Raise your arms so I could lift your shirt over your head and bare your warm, braless breasts? Put your arms around my neck? Let me put mine behind your back? Let me pull you tight against me? Would you want me to slip my hands down the back of your [mmm, yoga pants? skirt and cotton tights] and press my palm against your lowest back to pull your pussy against my cock? Would you wickedly half-lid your eyes and grind slowly against it and watch me struggle to keep my own eyes open against the sensation?

Would you want my hand to slip lower behind and beneath you to softly press not your clitoris but the sensitive wetness just inside your entrance while you stirred your clit against me through our layers of clothes? Would your lips kiss down, down my neck and collarbones and chest to my nipples? Would you be interested to know that your lips and tongue would be teaching me by example how you'd want me to mouth your own breasts and nipples?

Would you mind if I grew impatient, slipped my hands under your ass, and stood up, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around my waist? Do you think I wouldn't kiss you hard as I walked the few steps to the bed and laid you on your back? Do you know that if I wriggled my hips to let my jeans slip down my hips then down my thighs that I'd be doing it because I knew you'd enjoy seeing my hardness revealed that way for you? Would you be surprised if I grabbed the cuffs of your pants and pulled up, up, up to reveal your softness? When they finally slipped away leaving you utterly naked would you modestly close your legs to my gaze or wantonly part them wide so I could feast my eyes on you?

If I knelt between your legs and leaned forward would you know I was going to kiss your breasts? If I began a line of kisses down your belly would you know where I planned to stop? When my tongue parted your folds to taste you would you think I was only being polite or would you know that nothing would please me more than laving your petals to plump, full, hot-house-lust bloom, teasing them to part on their own so I could see your depths?

If I stood and reached for your hand and pulled your torso up would you take a moment to brush my cock with your face, to feel its velvet heat against your cheek and eyelids or would you open wide and swallow me whole, closing your lips around me, savoring each gnarled ridge as it slowly slid out over your tongue as you drew back before bobbing down again for more? Would you enjoy my hands wrapped in your hair not to press me into your throat, not to guide your tempo, but to support my trembling legs? Would you stop for a moment, with only your lower lip against my tip, and look up, catch my eye, make sure I saw your hand draw me straight, make sure I watched you inch-by-inch me back past your sex-puffy lips? Would you enjoy the struggled throbbing against your hand? Against your mouth? Would you hold the warmth of my balls, nail-scratching behind them, while your other hand languidly kept your clit centered for what would surely come next?

Would you want to drink me or would you mind hands on your shoulders, my belly nudging forward against your forehead to tip you away from me. Would you feel my cock slip from your mouth as you feel back? Would you feel your saliva wetness as it traced down your body, past your breasts, over your belly, against your pussy? Could you bear all my weight as I lay down upon you, kissing your mouth hard while my cock first patted, then parted, then lodged itself against you, finding its own way into you, dipping then pausing, dipping then pausing, painting itself with more and more of your wetness before finally vanishing its way inside you?

Would you enjoy the padded bone-on-bone as I rocked against you fully joined? Would your hips rise to meet mine? Again and again? Would you notice my hand slip behind you again to fingertip the center of your ass while the other reached further, past our juncture, to find its way between us and magnetically bump and roll across your hidden little twig? Would you snake your own fingers down to press my ass? Would you rock with me, roll with me, move together faster with me to find our pace? Match my breath with yours? Bite my shoulder to let me know you were close? Pull my hips to press me harder into you? Take the quick breaths that signal your arrival and trigger my own? Feel me slow, then stop, then rest all my weight on you for just a moment before rolling you over on top of me so that if... when... we leak out of you it'll onto my belly and not your coverlet? Would you kiss me as the last quivers passed? Reach for a soft cloth to catch us in? Wait till I returned with a warm wet cloth to refresh you with? Sigh as I gave your pussy a quick kiss before rising... then falling beside you for snuggles and murmurs and how-was-your-day?