He is moaning sighs and tensed thighs. Quivering need and shaken-breath supplication. Gasps and pleas and taut-muscled beseeching strain under the circular suede ministrations of wax-covered fingertips massaging buttery hot over satin-hard desire.
The candle melts.
Warmth pours forth.
Searing. Sensual. Seductive.
As are my hands, molding his arousal, reducing him to liquid heat under my touch.
“It feels,” he chokes out through caught-breath bursts of want swelling in his throat, “like you’re rubbing my cock with… like that massage oil is hot jizz.”
I keep stroking until that’s exactly what it is.
Truly awsome! Thank you!
And I feel like we need to try massage oil in a new. An experiment if you will…to see if JB and I get the same results. 😉
I had totally forgotten about it ~ we bought two candles originally, but after the ‘meh’ of using the first one for a backrub, I’d set the second aside ~ until I was cleaning out the closet, and then I was like, “Oh, I know what we can do with this…” 😉
Ooh, hot!
Your writing can be quite poetic at times. I wanted to say that his last line (that stanza) and your ending response was perfect
Thank you! 🙂
Outstanding… and hot as a match.
Now I have that song stuck in my head…
hotter than a match head…
https://youtu.be/U5bUmx-hk-c
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