The Threshold - Sex Stories

The Threshold

... that you've given to, and given yourself to, countless times and yet still be able to be paralyzed with desire from their simplest touch. To learn every curve, recess, and plane; to know what makes one come undone. And, more importantly, letting one undo you. To hand someone every code and key to your world, trusting them to make the body a living conduit that they can speak to you through without using a word, is a gift. Sensation speaks volumes. Bodies write stories. A lick can be a paragraph. An arching hip can be a page. The sudden change in one's breathing can be an entire chapter. Emma's hand wanders lower and lower, drawn to the heat in herself emanating from below. Fingers glide along the soft layer of thin cotton panties that cling to her skin from how wet she's become. Up and down, her fingertips make a slow trail. She loves to tease herself as well, so patient even though she longs to plunge a finger deep within herself to help relieve a powerful ache of her own. She resists though, and continues to just tease for now, to make her own desire flare through every nerve below. Her other hand is still busy teasing him too, fingers caressing under his waistband. She feels the need waiting to be unleashed, the way he bends and moans to her every touch. When she frees him from the confines of his jeans and boxers, the heat is unbelievable. The hot wave of all that potent, throbbing want, is all just for her. It makes more juices trickle from her depths, knowing she has ...

... full command over his body, mind, and that mysterious bridge where the two converge. "Please... " Adam moans in a whisper, a plead for her to keep going. His voice is overcome with desire, body yielding and waiting so patiently... Emma loves it. While her hands and lips have roamed, her mouth has grown restless and needs more. He shivers like an electric current surges through him when her tongue finally makes contact. She licks along his entire length, savoring the smooth warm hardness of his quivering column. He moans her name again, a guttural chant, as her mouth begins to close around him. Emma moans too, and the vibrations around him are almost too much. Her mouth brings him to the brink every time. It's an unspoken exchange of power between the two when she reduces him to pliable flesh. If she listens closely enough, the sound (as all sounds elicited by familiar lovers do) has a rhythm to it. A melody that she can control, build and swell to any crescendo she chooses. Each throb vibrates through him like his veins and nerves are really strings to be plucked and her every note is pure music, primal reverberations. And it's time to play. Adam tenses as her lips seal over his head, slightly trembling, just a precursor to the frenzy she will build. She knows his being more than any woman ever can or will. They have long since arrived at a place where neither measures themselves against who they have been with before. Deep down, though, there's always a part of her that revels ...