I never knew my mouth could make such noises, let alone how a person could make me utter said noises, using just his tongue. That's part of what I loved about John: he gives off the "Ooh-rah, man's man" vibe, but deep down, he valued what I wanted and was happy to oblige; making me comfortable in addition to being satisfied.
From every stroke of my clit to his finger simulating his dick, I couldn't help but squirm each time he rubbed against my G-spot, and he knew exactly where it was, too.
Just when I thought it was time to finish, John backed out of my entire lower body, gasping for breath. I called him a nasty name in return, to which he smirked and got on top of me. When he kissed my lips, I could taste what he had when he performed cunnilingus. I spread my legs, but he didn't want to enter me just yet. My arms crossed behind his neck as I grabbed his hair and kissed him back. For a beat, all we did was make out as he grinded up against me, his cock rapping against my entrance.
"You ready, baby?" John whispered.
"Yes..." I muttered back.
John sat back up at my legs as I prepared myself for penetration. Instead of going straight inside, he decided to have a little fun of his own. He took his cock and rubbed it against my labia, reminding me of the sensation of his tongue at that exact spot. He said, still panting for air, "How badly do you want me inside you?"
"So bad..."
"Yeah?" John asked. "You really want it?"
"Please," I croaked a little quieter than intended. "Johnny, I want you."
When I opened my eyes, I found John staring back at me. He wanted to make me happy, and I was ready to make him cum in return. The passion we felt for each other was more than just love; it was a hunger and we needed to nourish one another.
Understanding this, John slid himself inside me and laid back on top of me. Before making any thrusting movements, we took a moment to exchange kisses to prove that this wasn't just about "la petite mort", although that was an epic physical perk. When our lips separated, our eye contact never broke as he started moving in and out of my body; neither of us were tempted to break it as we kept moving our bodies up and down the bed as one.
My voice emitted this whimpering. I was stifling myself, and he knew it, so John responded, "Let it out."
"But I'm going to scream."
"That's the idea."
His current was clear now: to make me the cause of us receiving noise complaints from the neighbors. With John keeping in mind how close I was just minutes ago, his thrusting became more frequent between the seconds that passed. Between his own grunts, he assured me that it was okay to breathe and not stifle myself.
After some internal deliberation, I decided he was right: it would've been easier to let go and whatever noises came out of my mouth would be loud but liberating. Moaning turned to a high belt and the diaphragmatic groaning became squeals of extremely wet pleasure. Moments before the big eruption, not a peep came out of John or me, which only left what sounded like someone sucking on a melting popsicle taking up the silence.
There was no turning back now, even if our bodies had stopped rocking back and forth. Eager to get me to orgasm, John pounded even harder into me, about to cross the finish line himself. He said, "Argh, I'm gonna cum."
"Don't you dare cum without me," I demanded as the wet storm in my body was about to become a full-blown hurricane.
"I have to—" Before John could finish his sentence, he finished inside me. Feeling his cock squirming around in my vagina also caused me to reach climax, causing our sexual fluids to mix as one; the perfect symbol of our mutual experience, as if we made something magical together.
