Free Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play by Sydney Jamesson

bashfulness. He lifts up the sheets and holds
them up for me. An understanding smile forms and I move towards him willingly,
with gratitude and position my body next to his.
    No words are spoken but for all of Ayden’s apparent
calmness, I feel his heart racing against my palm. I’m certain he will not
touch me, but I so desperately need to be touched. I remember my promise and I
know what I must do. I reach over to my stockings and straddle him.
    "Give me your right hand Ayden." He lifts up
his arm so I can gently wrap the stocking around it. I lean provocatively
across his face, and feel his involuntary jerking as I do so. His breath is hot
and shallow against my bra, triggering an aching hunger to be tasted and
enjoyed. Once his hand is secure, I sit back down onto him. His breathing is
laboured and his chest is lifting but he makes no sound.
    "Give me your left hand Ayden." He does, and
I rock forward again trying to find purchase for my needy clitoris on his
taught abs. His jerking returns as does my deep craving for his hands on my
body, but he’s bound by my stockings to the wrought iron bedhead and I must
satisfy my yearning another way.
    I lower myself onto him and his rate of breathing
intensifies. Arching myself forward, I push out my breasts so he can taste the
perspiration forming between the cups of my bra. He licks and traces the top of
each cup with his tongue. The thrill of letting him see me so scantily dressed
burns in my throat and finds its way to my groin. Every sensation finds its way
to that place, the most sensitive part of my body.
    I lean into him once more, gripping his shoulders for
support. His teeth tug at my bra and he rolls his tongue from one breast to the
other, seeking hardening flesh. He pulls on his nylon restraints and I long to
release him into my arms but I daren’t. I want to say his name. I want to hear
him say my name.
    "Ayden, say my name, please say my name."
    In no more than a half whisper, he says, "I’m all
yours … Elizabeth."
    The sound of his fractured voice touches me, and his
declaration spurs me on. I have to give him what he wants: to be taken. Against
my deepest desires I move to his ear and whisper. "I want you to lie still
and stay hard while I fuck you."
    Like a powerful aphrodisiac, the words ignite his
passion and he begins breathing frantically, arching his back and pressing his
throbbing cock into me, desperate for liberation.
    Keeping my hands on his shoulders I lower my thighs so
I am perfectly placed to rub myself against him. In quick response, his stomach
muscles tense and flex and I place my hands there to experience the undulating
movement beneath my fingers. I so want to feel his perfect body against mine
and I flatten myself across him, pinning him to the mattress: hot flesh on hot
flesh.
    I envelope his face in my hands and suck the steaming
breath from his body. My mouth finds his and his hunger for my tongue is
insatiable. He rocks his head and tugs and pulls, straining his arms to reach
me. I pull away to prolong his sweet agony.
    Watching this remarkable man coming apart before my
eyes is too much. I have to taste him, devour him. Without thinking I lower my
head onto his chest and lick his flexing muscles, relishing every precious
inch. His chest hair tickles my nose and I brush my face against it to savour
his faultless physique. I move lower to the firm centre of his core and brush
my cheek against soft skin and pubic hair, feeling him quivering under my
instruction. I’m not myself, I don’t know how to do this … but Elizabeth does
and she is, thanks to this benevolent God of a man.
    “Fuck, this is insane,” he calls out and I have to
agree, I don’t know what I’m doing but it feels too good to stop.
    Making it up as I go, I brush against his pubic bone
with my nose and nibble the elastic waistband on his boxers. His desire is
peaking and he’s groaning and lifting his body in search of my moist tongue. I
run my hands across his