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Touch Me Again
episode: "see in"
A burn.
Revved up by three days of ocean plunges in high surf windward on Maui, voracious food runs, and numerous rides on top – still she could not exhaust lust. Even waking him in the night provided no relief. Now, a profound morning orgasm from stark physical sex … that settled nothing. She had reached a height of vivid libido – a burn.
Emerging from the bathroom naked, slipping under the covers, looking him right in the eye, she reignited the drama.
“Let’s do it again.”
“Ayiiyi,” he said. He squinted in disbelief.
She squinted back, to bring her unchaste urges into focus and inflict them on him.
“Again?” he asked.
“Guess that last one was pretty good,” she admitted.
“Your legs were shaking.”
“They were?”
“Quaking.”
The burn roared up. Is the fire in her pelvis from the last, or the ignition of the next? She dropped a red coal of it on the bed.
“What if that was just a good scream on the way up? What if I don’t want to cool off? What if I want to come again? And again?”
He took the edge of the sheet and in one motion stripped it off, spilling it onto the floor, leaving them naked except for a ring each on the best fingers.
The organ of concern jutted erect, waving with arrogance. The sight of the rampant rigid raging thing made her mind go white with greed … slow, simmering greed.
“I’m in charge,” she whispered.
He met her eyes, then nodded.
“I want to show you.”
In slow motion she opened her legs, slipping one over his hip, pulling behind the knee of the other to part thighs out of the way.
“Right here,” she said, lifting her bottom from the bed, rotating her pelvis in a small circle. “Here,” she said, fingers on the lips. “Don’t you like to see it after you just fucked it?”
“Mohh…”
“… after you just fucked it.”
She caressed the lips and folds, deliberately causing the sound of wet parts sliding together.
“See in.”
Her fingers parted the lips, slid deep, and pulled open to reveal the interior, the coral-colored rills shining with luster of syrup. Surely, he could see the opening of her womb nestled deep.
“Your cock, all the way in. It loved me sweet all night and then it pounded me raw when the sun came up – hard honeymoon sex in the morning.”
“You’re turning yourself on, the way you’re talking.”
“That’s right,” she answered. His eyes came up to find hers. With a tug of triumph, she saw he had fallen into a sexual spell. When a woman makes a man fall in, it turns her shameless – she will say things.
“Kiss it and drink it and fuck it ten thousand times. That’s why we are married.”
“Whoa.”
“I love it, so sweet, so sweet, to keep the lips open, and one of them rubbing just right …” she could not speak for a moment “… and oh, the ache.”
“What?”
“Touching it makes it ache. It hurts so good, scary good. Like a burning ache somewhere in there. It aches so good. I’m afraid nothing can put out the fire. How did you get a woman to burn like this?”
She shut thighs tight. Her hand stayed in the vee, stroking. Its sensuous movements made her hiss.
“Show me again,” he said. A tiny catch in his voice.
They shifted on the bed. Her leg slipped off his hip and she opened to the fullest -- flat-out spread wide as a woman can get. Her left hand joined the other in between. Its fingers went in the opening as well. She moved slowly. He followed this dance with fascination. It made a thrill in her heart to see him watching, to see him adoring her sex. She delicately pulled the lips apart again.
“Are you in love with it too?”
A pause … stunned dumb by the flow of flesh.
Then, “Yes, I love it,” he said.
“In love with it all swimmy and spread open, where you just fucked me?”
“Yes.”
“Clit happy.” She contracted her pelvis around the ache.
“Yes.”
“It’s lying in its little nest, like a pink pearl,” he said.
She moved the forefinger of each hand to fit at the sides of the nest, used them to urge the pearl up and away, a femme-way of getting more erect. She did this for seconds, hissing and cooing while he watched. Occasionally she pulled the surrounding flesh away and down, while two other fingers kept the opening parted.
“That makes it really stand out,” he reported. “It’s beautiful.”
“So beautiful you fall in love.”
He nodded.
“Every time you thrust in, it pulls on my clit. I love that. And sometimes when the angle is right, you rub it and bang it a certain way, it drives me right up the fucking wall.”
“Let me in now.”
“‘By morning the groom was thoroughly shocked how rude the bride liked it’.”
“Let me in now.”
“She was still sweet though.”
She slipped fingers out, folded the lips back against the mound with fingertips, exposing the pink, making a display.
“Put your cock right here,” she said, “but not in.”
He came above and pressed the shaft against the open lips.
“Now mister cock can fall in love with it,” she said, engaging his eyes with her guileless ones. “Slide it up and down. I’ll make it all wet.” Her fingers held open the sensitive folds perfectly for the rubbing to provoke arousal. Wonderful how deep the ache reached, which told how strong the next orgasm would be – deep in her ass, her back, her pelvis. Even in her belly. All alive with sweet warm pleasure-pain, waiting to come.
“Put it in,” she said, releasing her hands, bringing her arms up to circle his neck.
He moved the tip into place. Then the penetration.
“Oh oh, oh yes.”
It filled so full, pushed her insides around. She squeezed tight and slid him deeper, savoring the salacious flow of slippery wet flesh. She whispered in his ear, “Right in my fucking cunt.”
“Yes.”
She slid her legs nearly together, instructing him to put his knees outside hers.
“Come up high,” she said. He inched up on the bed, forcing his cock deep, sliding his hips up on hers. She adjusted beneath him.
“Don’t pound me, this time. Use your weight, let me feel your weight, but don’t pound, just rub me good.”
He began a rhythm.
He has to feel that … hardness rubbing against the lips, against the little nest, against the button that feeds the ache. Squash me. Rub me and squash me. Hurt it sweet.
“Can you feel the lips?” she whispered.
He nodded.
“This way is for them, rub them, rub my clit. Do me good.”
He took it up instantly. She helped direct through moans and urgings. His cock would slip out halfway, then slide in strong. His weight and this position high astride her hips forced the penetration deep. He didn’t pull out at the end of each sinking, but rather rotated his hips, making the base of the shaft and his hard mound inflame her sex.
The ache grew enormous. She felt it ignite her core. Fire flowed up her spine. They lasted long, enduring the excruciatingly slow ascent. They laughed together, seeing how high up they were. She must say her self-love again – no mercy from lust that burns. She held her eyes steady and true for him to melt with. He did not look away. Their love flowed there, aroused.
“I love my cunt,” she whispered.
“Beautiful rude.”
“… the willing bride.”
“I feel like I’m in up to my waist,” he said, grunting with each entry.
“Fuck it good. Love me. Fuck me …” She went silent to let several thrusts penetrate to her cervix. Her torso arched off the bed to meet him. Three slow massive strokes … she cried out …
“OhFuck – OhFuck – OhFuck.”
She recognized the point of no return, but it passed so slowly, not like the usual bursting followed by a crash. Instead – a calm, wide lake, warm and welcoming, exquisite. With each stroke of her lover she surged through the water, sailing away, with music of liquids streaming past her body, and a warm rain.
The ache spread through her pelvis, up into her chest, into her very breath. It ceased to torment, instead filling her heart with searing goodness.
Then it was in her throat. She screamed. The water itself melted, and she with it.
All burning, all aching, drowned.
© John Kirnan 2003-2025
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NOTE: Touch Me Again is scheduled for release Summer 2025
The ache grew enormous. She felt it ignite her core. Fire flowed up her spine. They lasted long, enduring the excruciatingly slow ascent. They laughed, seeing how high up they were. She held her eyes steady and true for him to melt with. He did not look away.
She recognized the point of no return, but it passed so slowly, not like the usual bursting followed by a crash. Instead – a calm, wide lake, warm and welcoming, exquisite. With each stroke of her lover she surged through the water, sailing away, with music of liquids streaming past her body, and a warm rain.
The ache spread through her pelvis, up into her chest, into her very breath. It ceased to torment, instead filling her heart with searing goodness.
Then it was in her throat. She screamed. The water itself melted, and she with it.
All burning, all aching, drowned.