excitement-fear, exhilaration-apprehension; comfort-anxiety...

Her body stretches on top of Kiril, his hardened muscles firmly felt in her softer form. His arms cradle her strongly, his lips demanding; tantalizing.

             

Surges pummel her senses; electrifying them. His thumb gently presses her lower lip, forcing her to open her mouth, his tongue sliding smoothly in. Her eyes fly open; another joy to learn, her low moan suggesting there is lots she’s ready to learn tonight.

             

Hesitantly, she touches his tongue with hers, feeling a jolt shudder her core. Becoming braver, she explores his mouth with her tongue, their tongues entwining. A low growl escapes from Kiril’s throat, his hands stray down to cup her buttocks, to knead her firm flesh, tracing their rounded shape and lightly trailing down the split.

             

Her fingers cup his face, her kisses also becoming more demanding; more resolute. She feels his snake (I can’t believe I was so naive as to allow Gryfaw and Nasko dupe me; gawds, I’m so dim-witted!) press against her tummy as she wriggles against him, unable to remain still with so many sensations fluttering around her at once.

             

Her breasts ache and tingle. Her tummy is sending mixed-up messages; excitement-fear, exhilaration-apprehension; comfort-anxiety all swirling in a vortex of tickles and throbs. She lifts her head away from his for a moment, her breathing harsh. “Teach me, please, Kiril. Teach me what you talked about last night. Show me what I only vaguely understand. I want to understand what I’m feeling.” She lowers her mouth to his, kissing the corners of his lips before kissing his chin, his cheeks, his eyelids as his arms tighten around her.

             

“Spring,” he groans, his fingers tugging the nightshirt she wears upward, their flesh touching as she realises he is not wearing his loin-cloth; the contrast in his, rougher, hairy skin and her smoother, softer flesh adds to the growing mound of pleasure she is discovering.

             

She sits up, her legs straddling his hips as he tugs the shirt off and drops it on the ground beside them, his groan worrying her, “Are you okay?” she asks anxiously, leaning forward, her arms on either side of his head, her peaked breasts grazing his near hairless chest.             

“Oh, yes,” his voice is rough, low, “I’m more than okay.” He reaches up and strokes her back, his fingerpads lightly tracing her spine, encircling her waist. “Kiss me,” his wish is whispered and like a steel thread, she feels compelled to acquiesce, lowering her mouth to his, his hand moving to cup her breast, his thumb to flick her thick nipple...

o0o