Without fail - Sex Stories

Without fail

Have you ever had one of those days where you think the whole world is devising some evil plot against you? A day where you wake up in the morning to find your phone has not charged, the coffee machine needs repair, your favorite shoes have broken, the public transport system is running an hour behind, your boss has decided to drown you in paperwork, and the place you frequent for lunch has burned down. And to make matters worse, it’s only Monday. This is the type of day that makes me wish I never crawled out of bed; it is the type of day that makes me wish I had stayed wrapped in your arms while your hot breath soothed the back of my neck as you slept. Despite such a horrid day, there is nothing in this world greater than crawling back into bed at night where I know you will be waiting for me. Some nights you wait with the softest of kisses which would make any woman melt in her skin; other nights the kiss is matched with a gentle touch that soars over every inch of my body. And so I am elated on this Monday night when, after a horrid day, I strip to my core, manoeuvre my way through the dark to lie in bed with you, and feel the whisper of a kiss blow against my jaw. Each successive kiss that skips down my neck, along my collarbone, and to my shoulder serves as an eraser to wipe away the shreds of my day. The trail of hot breath that you leave on my tingling skin with each and every kiss is matched by the way that your hands expertly glide up my thighs in order to find ...

... rest on my hips. It is at this moment that I realize the power of your touch, when my knees weaken and I find myself thankful that we are lying down. I will never be able to deny the fact that you know my body better than any other. You can even anticipate my every move and every breath before I make it: you are well prepared for every jolt, each plea, each cry, and you are even prepared for that moment when I arch my back and gasp in reaction to your soft lips, finally landing below my navel after a slow and torturous journey down my core. While my hands lie idly by my side and I am lost in your touch, your hands continue to inch along my body. It would be an understatement to say that I am slightly overwhelmed by the combined consequences that your lips and now roaming hands are having on my body. Yet this feeling is only heightened the second that your lips move alone and continue to torture me at new depths. With eyes glued shut, I am easily lost in the sensations of the night, and the dealings of the day are but an irrelevant fragment or speck of dust. My troubles are quickly forgotten at the hands of the one who is with me each night, and each morning; at the hands of the one who has the power to sooth any plight with the flick of a tongue. But despite the torture of your touch, it is the sweetest torture of all; despite the long dreaded days, it is the long nights, and early mornings, with you that are the best of all. But despite the plague of sweet torture, I am ...