Lucy Martin<br/>Location: GPC<br/>Tagged: Dylan Murphy<br/><br/>A kiss. It wasn’t their first. In fact, their kisses grew more intense, filled with more passion each time. She could feel her clothing being pulled away tenderly, and yet at times she almost felt as though he was pawing them away, ripping them from her body. The soft tug of her panties being slipped down her legs while she moved her body aiding him, the motion as natural as breathing was compared to the ripping of her bra. It was a garment she would never wear again. That was certain as the fabric gave under his influence. The clothing that had seemed like it was too much to have on her body, the clothing that was suffocating her with it’s hold on her flesh as it covered it, was soon removed.  Lucy was confused by her feelings. While she felt free, unrestrained, she also felt a deep sense of vulnerability as her body was now bare for him to see. There was no place to hide. His eyes could drink in her flesh, and she wanted him to, but if his eyes weren’t closed while their lips met, he stared into hers’.<br/><br/>He moved, his body shifting in a fluid motion as he tugged his own pants down. Her heartbeat rose, threatening to burst through her throat. Through parted lips she was panting, trembling, knowing soon was would happen, what she wanted to happen. She lifted her hips slightly, wanting him to lean back to her, to touch her, to kiss her, and yet he seemed to pause. The absence of his body close to hers’ was torture.  It was a torture that was ended the moment he leaned back to her. She felt it. Him. He was ready, more than ready. It was clear.  She gasped before closing her lips to swallow hard.  Breathing normally was impossible. Her lips parted instantly, and the gasping sounds of a woman struggling to breathe filled the air. A sharp squeal cut through the air as his hand touched her sex. There was no fabric to hinder his touch.  This was a contact she had only felt before in her dreams. As it was happening now though, her dreams could not compare. Her hand reached for his, not to stop him, but to add to the contact. She wanted every part of his body touching every part of hers’.  His lips were hot, driving her further. Another high pitch sound came from her mouth as he began to tease her. Her clit, a bundle of nerves, reacted to his touch, sending waves of electricity through her, waking up sensations.  Her hand gripped his tighter, as if she were urging him on.<br/><br/>His touch seemed all over the place, shifting all over her body. His grasp was firm as he massaged her breasts. His touch wasn’t as tender as before. There was a certain hungriness to it. She liked it. While her flesh was being molded by his powerful hands, she cried out softly anytime his digits captured her nipples, squeezing them.  Again his touch shifted, and his lips found hers’ again, waiting and hungry. She pressed her hand to his again as he teased her clit. She knew he feel how aroused she was. His touch, his body, had clearly had an effect on her. She wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, she wanted him to know.<br/><br/>As he leaned back from their kiss, she wanted to protest, but once she looked into his eyes, she knew. The hunger, the lust, had grown far too intense. The emptiness that he had left her with was about to be replaced. The fires that they had stoked were about to consume them both. When she felt him, her lips parted, as if she were going to speak, but the words she wanted to say seemed too far away.  He slipped inside with ease, at first. Lucy’s eyes widened, and her breathing quickened. Her chest rising and falling with her ragged breath.  Her hands planted firmly on the couch beneath her. She could feel her fingernails digging into the material.  As he pushed, she could feel her body resisting him. He did not let up. His pace was slow and even, even as he met her deepest resistance. Lucy groaned, arching her back as she felt the barrier broken. She felt his movements come to a halt, knowing she was filled. Her body was stretched, as he was embedded within her. His touch was soft now, a stark contrast to the feeling his words lit on fire inside of her. He moved again, drawing back, leaving her empty, but only for a moment.  He filled her again and again and again. His pace quickened. Lucy began to writhe beneath him, panting, moaning.  Each time he touched in her new ways. She heard his words, but her reply did not come instantly.  Instead she drank in every thrust, every sensation that gripped her body.  When she finally spoke, her words were low, laced with pain. It was a sweet pain, one that grew with each thrust, one that she wanted.  “It’s too much,” she groaned, “but don’t stop. Don’t stop Dylan. Please. Don’t stop. Yes Dy….lan. Don’t stop. So much. So….full. It..hurts. Don’t..stop.”