"Lie on the bed. On your stomach."
The voice is low, with an almost panther-like growl. It resonates in your ears, your chest, your deepest self. You do as it says, dropping your robe to the floor and lying down with your head turned toward your left shoulder, arms at your sides.
"Spread your arms."
"Now spread your legs."
You do, and cool air rushes in to touch you in your warmest places.
"Close your eyes. And follow my touch."
You feel the bed shift as weight is added, and you know he is astride your naked back even though nothing is touching you.
There is a long pause and you sink into the darkness behind your closed eyes, feeling the air in the room slowly slink across your skin. Another chill passes, and is replaced by a heightened sense of every square inch of yourself, from fingertips to the bottoms of your toes. You stretch and spread your legs and hands a bit more and settle just a little further into the bedspread.
It almost startles you when your hair is slowly and sensually slid from your back, over your shoulders, parted at your neck and spread on the bed around your head. It lies across your cheek, covering your eyes. Your breath warms your face and sends a flush down your neck.
At that instant, a fingertip touches the centre of your neck at the base of your skull. You shudder at the vivid spark of the touch.
The finger waits for your shudder to pass, then slowly, riding the nail, draws its way down the centre of your neck, down the centre of your spine, through the small of your back, over the small rise of your tailbone, and stops where your buttocks part. It draws a small circle just at the top of the cleft and lifts off.
A moment later it touches the back of your neck again, paired with another. As they slowly draw down your spine slight variations in their speed and pressure let you know that two hands are working in tandem now. As the reach their destination and draw their circles, the backs of other fingers very lightly brush against the rise of your ass cheeks.
More fingers join them when the return to the back of your neck, and it feels like electricity is being drawn from your neck and back and stored at the very base of your spine.
Each time, the fingers delve a little deeper between your cheeks, a little further down, making your anus quiver. Warmth starts to flow between your legs.
The hands reach wide, and a finger tip touches the nail on the index finger of each of your spread hands. Again, the electric tracing draws across the back of your fingers, the back of your hand, up your forearm, across the soft, tender flesh of the back of your arms, over your shoulders and down your spine.
At the small of your back, the fingertips part, and trace their way around your hips and under the curve of your ass cheeks, stopping just as they draw together again.
Each time they return to your hands, another finger mates to one of yours until five fingers draw up the backs of your hands, over your arms across your shoulders and spread as they trace down your back.
When the hands reach your ass the fingers dig in, sending sparks and shivers deep through your body, back to front and down. Fingers draw together around the curve of the bottom of your ass, stopping just above where your legs meet.
They return to your hands again and again, each time spreading further apart away from your spine as they draw down your back, until they are drawing up the inside of your arms and down your sides.
Their touch on the soft sides of your breasts causes your nipples to react, pressed deep beneath you. You shudder with pleasure.
The hands stop, fingers freeze their grazing over your waist, one still lingering on a curve of each breast.
"Breathe. Focus. Relax."
You take a deep breath and hold it. Warmth is flowing through you - up through your chest and down from your belly to places below. You stretch again, spreading arms and legs and fingers as far as they will go, then relax.
As your muscles relax you can feel the route that each fingertip took to the base of your spine like lines on a map, over and around your ass to that place so near your waiting lips. You can feel energy and power flowing from your muscles, from every fibre of your being, and flowing towards the points the fingertips have directed.
"Follow my fingers."
They begin to move again, drawing across your waist and around the curve of your hips to the curve of your cheeks, spreading them and drawing in to points halfway between your lips and anus. Thumbs push down, pressing your pubic bone down deep into the mattress top, and you grind your pussy against the sheets. Your clit swells, and you hear a low moan before you realize that it's coming from yourself.
Then the pressure eases, and the hands jump to your feet, tracing up from your heels and ankles, deliciously up the centre of the back of your legs, up to where your legs tuck together, to those two points where the thumbs push in and send a jolt of electricity drawn up from your very toes right through your body and deep into your vagina.
Over and over they repeat until a charged fingertip has traced every inch of your legs, drawing up and jolting through to your flooding pussy.
Your back arches over and over, and you can't help grind against the mattress.
Slowly you relax your back and ease off. Your breath evens out again, though your swollen clit pulses with energy.
After a long pause you feel the weight shift on the bed again, and you realize you are on it alone once more.
As you roll over you sit up enough to let your hair fall over your breasts and lie back, hoping that it will be drawn off just as it was before. You're not disappointed.
Your nipples rise to the sensation of it slowly, silkily sliding over your breasts, across your collarbone, and spilling off your shoulders and onto the bed.
As the bed shifts and moves and you are joined once again by a body you can only sense but cannot touch you're suddenly aware of being naked. Very naked. Exposed, vulnerable. You thrill at the shiver that thought sends through you.
Your eyes have remained closed throughout, as though you were deeply asleep; as though their lids lying gently together were their most natural state; as though there truly were no need to see. Yet your mind wonders about your nakedness. How it must look. How spectacular you must appear, with every aspect of your womanness displayed to its finest advantage. And you wonder if the body astride your own is naked as well. You wonder how closely parts of it hang over your own. You wonder if perhaps those parts don't hang, but are pulled taught and erect and engorged like your own nipples, your own clit. You feel that you can sense the weight of it swaying above you, straining upward, longing to be inside you. You want to see it; you want to see what your own body has caused in this other.
"Keep your eyes closed."
The growl of the voice thrills you as it chastises you, and you feel your face flush.
After a long moment your breathing relaxes and evens out, and you can feel your heartbeat: in your chest, in your ears, and in the throbbing and pulsing of your clit.
A fingertip touches the bottom of your throat, in the soft cup at the centre where it meets your collarbone. A shock runs straight from the point of contact to deep down between your legs, charging you further, then the finger draws its electricity slowly down your chest, straight between your breasts, and down the centre of your trembling belly.
It swirls and spirals around your navel, and you sense the hand has changed positions, no longer dragging but moved around and deliberately pushing on towards your smooth, shaved mound.
Then the whole hand is on you, palm down, flat on the bottom of your belly, cupping your mound, fingertips curling around to almost touch your moist hot lips, and it squeezes, charging all of the energy it has drawn down with it right into your throbbing clit.
With every draw down your chest from your neck the squeeze is repeated, sending thrills shivering through your entire body and heightening every touch.
As more fingers are added to the draw down from your neck they graze and caress the insides of your breasts as the hands have passed between. You can feel your nipples straining, and you know your areola are swelling too. An ache begins to build at the base of your breastbone, a deep, desperate longing for the next touch to be your nipples.
Instead, fingertips press into your open palms, sending almost electric shockwaves down your arms and through your chest to your belly and below. Your hips roll and you ache for the mattress you ground into, but only air greats your raised, rocking mound.
You calm, and the fingers begin their draw from your palms, inside your forearms, over your shoulders, tracing along your collarbone and down between your spread, lusting breasts to your belly beyond, squeezing your mound and imparting their charge.
When they return to your hands you curl your own over top, hold the fingers into your palm, but they spread your hand open again and lay it flat on the bed before making their trip up your arms.
You want so badly to grab them again when they return, but you keep your palms open and hands flat against the bed, knowing not to try to return the touch.
After five long strokes up each arm and down your centre to store their power below, the fingers start again at your toes, drawing up your spread legs and moving inside your thighs as they approach their destination. The palms cup your pussy from below, thumbs laying atop the smooth shaved skin of your mound, and again and again and again the squeeze each time. You barely believe that you haven't gone over the edge yet, you want to, you need to, you're filled with an overwhelming urge to, but you hold yourself back, letting the hands supercharge you to the point of explosion.
They pause, as though they know your teeter on the brink.
When your breathing eases again, fingertips return to the soft place a the base of your throat. This time they move up, around either side of your neck, trace your jawline up to the soft, sensitive area in front of your ears, move over your brows and orbit your eyes before drawing gently down the sides of your nose, across your cheeks to the corners of your mouth. You become aware of your own breath racing across your lips, over your teeth and across the back of your tongue before it disappears down your throat to your heaving chest.
Fingertips move from the corners of your mouth to gently caress your lips. You open your mouth wider, and you move your tongue to your teeth, wanting to taste, wanting to suck the fingers in but knowing to let them do what they will, and you force down your urge to flick your tongue out and invite them in.
They trace the oval of your mouth and disappear, and you lift your chin, arcing your neck, rising up on your shoulders, hungry for something to invade your mouth.
Fingers pinch your nipples instead, and you almost loose control in the spasm of pleasure that rocks through your body.
They hold your nipples in a firm but unmoving grip, and you slowly lower your back, spreading your arms again and consciously deepening your breaths.
The fingers slowly ease their grip, and you feel your breasts slide back and settle and you realize that they were being held aloft by your nipples.
When touch returns, fingers trace circles around the edge of your swollen areolas before spiralling in to graze your engorged nipples. Pleasure racks your body, and the fingers surround your nipples, giving them a gentle tug as they pull away and draw down over the sides of your breasts, over your waist, across your hipbones and inexorably in towards your quivering mound.
This time the hands cup completely, palms resting against your dripping lips, thumbs lying atop your trembling, pulsing, overcharged clit, fingertips tracing small circles on your smooth mound, and the squeeze begins.
The pressure builds and the squeeze deepens and deepens and you're barely aware of weight shifting on the bed and the touch of flesh against the inside of your legs as your companion lies down between them, so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs, moving over the soft, sensitive flesh of your pussy not covered by his hands.
As the pressure builds deep within your belly, focused on your clit, pulsing through the walls of your pussy you realize that you're about to lose control completely. A sound, small and desperate and hungry escapes your throat and the hands let go immediately, leaving you lying at the brink, primed and charged and overloaded with pleasure, every nerve alive, humming like a tuning fork with a clear perfect note of desire.
Then a deep rumbling growl forms in your companion's chest, resonating between your legs, vibrating through you before the words are even audible:
And you do.
Your entire body orgasms as wave after wave after wave of electric pleasure crashes over you. Each spasm connects every nerve in your body, every traced line of touch, directly to that place behind your clit, deep within, where ripples of sensation circle out from and back like a stone dropped in a pond. Your hands grip the sheets and pull as your back and neck arch and your body writhes in pleasure, shaking and jerking with sensation.
At long last the waves begin to break further apart and softer, washing over you more gently, and you sink beneath their warmth, spent and exhausted and alive with warmth and pleasure.
They taper to a hum, a pleasant buzzing of delight, as the electricity stolen and charged into your pussy flows back to every scrap of naked skin from which it had been taken. Every inch of your body revels in pleasure and exhaustion, and you lie with your eyes still closed, as though you were asleep.
As your mind begins to surface from the ocean of pure sensation you realize your companion is no longer on the bed with you, and with your eyes still happy in their lazy dark you somehow know he is standing near, watching you, drinking you in, drawing satisfaction from seeing the fruits of his labour, of seeing where he'd brought you and delivered you to.
You imagine what he must look like there, not ready to look just yet, but rather to picture it, visualizing your own hands reaching out and exploring his body.
Something stirs in the deep place below your belly, a small hunger growing even so quickly after such a feast of its own, and you know that it won't be long now before you rise and growl to him:
"Lie down on the bed..."