Wide Open

s i x t y t h r e e

There is an urgency in his touch as he moves his hands frantically through my hair, down my sides, around to my backside as if he's unable to decide where to touch me first. My hands are no better, continuously sliding over every square of inch of his body that I can manage.
Taylor's lips, however, take their time. The soft skin caresses my lips gently a few times before moving to press a kiss to each of my cheeks. He uses his nose to nudge the angle of my jaw to the side, giving him access to my neck. His lips continue to work their way down, stopping at the sensitive skin of my collar bone. I can feel his tongue glide across my skin forcing a sigh to escape from me. The urgency that he had moments before has slowed to a near halt. This new rate allows him and I to savor each touch.

I pull him by his lapels into my room, closing the door behind us. Once we're inside, Taylor's hand works its way to the front of my body, pulling and unfastening my robe, exposing nothing underneath. My breath hitches as my body feels the rush of cold air. Taylor grumbles something, but neither of us stop. No words are important enough to earn a place in the air surrounding us. We need to talk, but I don't think I could even form a coherent sentence at this point.

My nipples become pebbles as Taylor takes them into his mouth one at a time. I fall against the door, unable to hold myself up as he continues to tease me. His mouth traces a path back to mine, leaving behind a trail of kisses and little nips at the skin in its way. His hands cup my ass, gently lifting me and allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel his erection pressing into me. My own anticipation grows to a desperate level.

"Couch," I breathe in between kisses. With three of his large steps we're across the room. Taylor moves to lay me gently on the futon, but cracks his head on the wood bed frame in the process. We laugh open mouthed against one another, but don't dare break our contact. Instead he swallows my giggles in between kisses.

I stretch my body out beneath his to give him the access he wants and that I crave. Taylor continues to explore me. My body is his map and his lips are his compass. But it doesn't feel like uncharted land for us. Taylor seems to know exactly where to go. He pauses at my most sensitive spots like their his favorite landmarks to visit. He takes his time to stroke and caress me until I'm panting for more.

I scramble to undress him. His jacket comes off easily. I move to unbutton his shirt and curse at how insufficient the speed at which my fingers are moving is. When I make it down far enough, Taylor leans back slightly to help me the rest of the way. It's the first time his hands have left my body since we began, but his eyes burn a hole through me as he works through the buttons quickly. I swallow hard, biting my lip to keep myself calm. And to prove that this is really happening.

I knew Taylor was a specimen of a man, his muscular torso forever visible under the fabric of his t-shirts, but the details are even better than the abstract idea. His body is a religion that I could worship, a type of false God that could bring me to my knees. My stomach swims in anticipation of the level of pleasure his body can make. My hands shake as I reach out to touch him. My palms slide slowly over his skin, taking the time to appreciate the bumps and grooves of his muscles. The fingers of my right hand work over the black lines of a tattoo shaped like a longhorn skull running across his side. The slope of one of the horns runs adjacent to the defined V of muscle leading into Taylor's pants. My fingers continue tracing, finding that new hard line and following it until they're dancing along the top of his boxers.