In Flagrante

I concentrate on the belly button first, after the preliminaries, the kissing and holding and stroking that we can keep up for hours without really going anywhere. It might seem a little strange that I go for something other than her breasts, when her breasts are like magnets to the hands, firm, warm, soft, perfectly fitted to my palm so the nipple presses on some acupuncture point I didn't even know I had. Chinese medicine doesn't talk enough about nipples, in my opinion.

But I don't go there first. Not today. She's giggling, a soft little chuckle that makes the point of attack vibrate, so I kiss it, which only makes it worse. My hands call out to my brain, "Hey, either put us on the boobs or we're taking matters into our own selves." They can't very well say "hands," now can they? I resist; it's no good to let your body tell you what to do. Besides, my brain is contemplating her tummy. It doesn't go in and out when she laughs, it just shudders, like the laughs are rocketing around inside, trying to get out. Lying back like this, underneath me, I can look up between her two perfect breasts and into her eyes as she giggles softly. I can't resist. I kiss just above the belly button, where the shiver is most pronounced, and then flick my tongue out between my lips, brushing her skin. It tickles. She giggles again.

I was paying to much attention to my lips and tongue and my hands wrestled free of my control, and I feel them slowly running up her flanks, over the slight bumps of her ribs, then around, and cupping her breasts, feeling her heart beating under my fingers. She sighs, and that makes her tummy move too, relaxing for just an instant before I kiss her again, lower this time, right above the bone of her hip, and she squirms a little, opening her legs between mine as I straddle her knees. I'll tease her a little more, feel the rising heat of my ultimate goal.

My hands are still softly kneading her breasts, like a massage, the pinkies around the side, the join between the muscle of breast and chest, feeling the soft skin there. Her hardening nipples are poking just so between the bones in my palms, and it's like a circuit is formed between her and me, the flow going up from her belly as she giggles, through my lips and out into my hands, then back into her. Or maybe it's the other way, the nipples sending surges of power which I return to her laughing belly. It doesn't matter much.

I don't bite. I never bite. But she's too tasty to leave alone, so I do nibble, no teeth, just lips and tongue. If she was giggling before, she's laughing now, still quiet, but the shaking in her tummy has increased. Even though I can hardly stand to pull away, I move my hands to hold from the sides, putting her nipples within reach of my mischievous fingers. When she's this hard, this ready, my thumbs in particular love the feel of rolling over her pink nubs, feeling them retreat and then surge back. I roll them gently between thumb and forefinger while I nibble my way up her tummy, which is still shuddering with laughter, over her sternum as it too shakes, then quickly snake up to give her a kiss on her laughing mouth before she knows what I'm doing.

Her hands hold me there, tangled in my hair, on my neck. I was planning on going back down, maybe putting my lips around a nipple and suckling at it like a baby, tasting her sweat, smelling the scent that comes off her body when she's this ready and just waiting for me to get on with it. But her lips are intoxicating. So soft compared to mine, or at least so it seems. She claims I'm biased, that my lips are just as soft as hers, but I know better. When we kiss, the circuit that we had below is repeated above, only this time with breath, breath flowing out of her and into me and then through me and back to her. We can't kiss completely head on when we're like this; our noses get in the way. Locking lips can only be done at a slight angle. But we can still look into each other's eyes, and I see hers, half-closed as she keeps laughing even as I'm kissing her, but still alive, shooting sparks into me.

Finally, she releases me and whispers, "Get on with it." Then she gives me a little grin, vulnerable and shy, and if I were a man I would plunge my cock into her right then and never stop. But I'm not. So she might have to wait a few minutes while I get distracted on my way back down.