Free Fallon's Wonderful Machine by Maire De Léis Page B

on his
shirt her fingers found his skin. Soft fuzzy fur on his stomach.
Underneath his ribcage where the skin was the softest. She moved
upwards. Undoing buttons. Here he was harder. Muscle more defined.
Hair rougher. Except where it met in the middle like small rocky
streams meeting to form a gentler, calmer river.
    She too was greedy. She tore his shirt open
and ran her hands up and down his ribcage. Around him. The
landscape on his back. His spine. The shoulder blades moving back
and forth as his hands and arms and neck and head was all over
her.
    He lay her gently down on the sofa. They
helped each other out of shirts and sweaters. No thinking. No
fiddling with buttons. No stuck zippers, no tie-knot too tight.
Only desire to get at the skin underneath. See it. Smell it. Most
of all touch it. His arms. Oh, his arms. The finest of all. She
loved holding her hand atop his forearm and feel the muscles move.
Tighten and relax while his fingers mirrored the movements on her
body.
    She loved seeing the desire in his eyes when
he admired her breasts. That moment before he touched. A gourmet
before a meal. Made her feel desired. Safe. Exposed yes. But with
this man who admired her body so, safe.
    In his neck. His nape and his back. Fallon
touched the muscles that were doing these things to her. The parts
of the machine that kissed her between her breasts. Touched them
with his lips. So smooth the movements when his hands came into the
fray. And, and, oh. Here was a muscle she couldn't feel. His
tongue. Flicking across her nipples. His lips closing around them
as they stiffened. Rose up into that moist cavern. Oh yes. He was
gentle. Careful. Way too much so. She pressed her chest up against
him. Rolled her shoulders back. Held him tight. Here, now. Just
here, just now. It didn't matter what happened next. The armrest
pressing into the back of her head didn't matter. Didn't matter
that Darragh could only breathe through his nose. Just this moment.
Just this nearness. That was it. Her and her man and his aftershave
and his neck muscles and his mouth engulfing her nipple. Pressed
hard into the flesh.
    Had she thought he was immobile? Did she
think she could keep him from moving, keep him from pleasing her
even more? No. His arm freed, opened her jeans. Pulled them down
along with her underwear down to her knees. Now that hand between
her thighs. Grabbing, stroking, caressing. Almost pinching. Then
gentle again. Fallon held the arm. Not guiding it. Just feeling it
move. Admired how advanced every movement was. How beautiful the
machinations that allowed them to happen.
    No words now. She wanted him near and he was
near. She wanted to be touched and he touched. To be teased with a
finger on either side of her pussy and she was teased. Closer and
closer she wanted him and closer he came. Touch it! Touch it hard.
Press your hand up against me. Relax. Take your hand away and taste
it. Look me in the eye and taste it. Touch me again. Feel how wet
I've gotten from watching that. My juices flow freely onto your
hand. Part me. Find your way inside.
    Two fingers slid into her pussy. His thumb
remained on duty outside. Circling. Not touching her clit. Explored
her inside. Pushed and pressed and prodded and stretched. Found her
ready. Now the thumb touched. That magical spot. Yes. Right there.
Right there!
    A bolt of lightning. Forked into so many
small ones. Shot through her body in all directions. And one hand
there. Pushing her further and further into the place where
everything becomes unfocused. Everything but your lover's eyes go
fuzzy. Slow-moving coloured cloud. His other hand opened his
trousers. Letting his cock out at last. Breathe. Bounce and twitch
as his muscles tightened and relaxed. Seeing him like this. So
ready for her. So turned on by her. The final piece. The picture
now complete. Everything perfect.
    Fallon came.
    She was gone. Somewhere else. A different
plane. Everything soft and white like clouds made of cotton. When
they