Need

Need The evening had ended as it usually did……in frustration. She had come for dinner, chatting amiably as he prepared the table. Seated, they enjoyed the meal. After moving to the lounge area, they partook a glass of wine. He sat on the sofa, surprised when she sat closer than usual, eliciting a gentle spike of his desire. There, under the viewport, they talked of inconsequentialities until eventually….inevitably, she rose and stretched her beautiful body, signaling the end of the evening.

Walking her to the door, she turned and uncharacteristically touched her fingers gently to his face, then leaned in and kissed him chastely on his lips. The door opened and she glided from his view, the sighing doors, as they closed, accentuating the silence of his cabin.

His chest rose and fell in an expansive sigh, his head lowering. Standing motionlessly, he struggled to gain control of his desire, his pain, eventually moving into his bedroom.

There, after a visit to the lavatory, he shed his clothes, donned a pair of sleeping shorts and crawled slowly into his bed, knowing that sleep would be slow in coming.

He stared intently into her eyes, as with each deep, powerful thrust she gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him. They had started slowly and gently, each caress, each touch driving them further into the web of incredible heat that was building within them.

He knew her climax was approaching and pounded harder, touching her deeply with his body and soul. She arched up to him, groaning his name……and abruptly, he woke up.

Panting raggedly, his chest heaving, he rolled onto his back, staring into the darkness of his bedroom. Desperately seeking control, he tried to shift his mind away from the erotic images that cascaded vividly behind his eyes. He struggled to ignore the hot, throbbing erection, pressed hard against his stomach, confined in his shorts, aching to be touched. Clenching the sheets with both hands, he screwed his eyes tightly shut, vainly willing the powerful sensations to cease. He was a man of formidable strength of mind, accustomed to being always in control, but not now.

Almost with a will of its own, his right hand released its death grip of the sheet and moved to his chest, the flat of his hand roving through the soft hair, over his well formed muscles and over each nipple, bringing a sharp intake of breath. Lower the hand moved, soon joined by its partner caressing his stomach and moving ever lower to the waistband of his shorts.

Slipping his thumbs under the elastic, he pushed down, sliding the silky material down the length of his swollen penis. He reached down as far as he could, until he could use his legs and feet to rid himself of the unwanted garment.

Trailing his fingertips back up his thighs, he skirted his straining erection and again caressed his chest and stomach. Behind his closed eyes, his hands became hers. Recalling the dream, he could smell her perfume, hear her moans of pleasure, spurring him on to greater heights of desire.

Soon, his right hand moved down and, with his fingertips, lightly traced the veins on the underside of his erection, following their path from base to tip. Using his palm, he spread the bead of fluid over the head then gripped the shaft and squeezed firmly. Unable to

stifle a groan of desire, he squeezed again, his hips bucking in response. Sliding his hand up and over the head, he again spread the fluid and used it to lubricate his hand.

He began to slowly stroke himself, arching his hips in time to thrust into his strong hand.

His body taut, muscles flexing, he opened his mouth, panting with exertion. Faster he stroked, his mind replaying images of her wanton passion, imagining her writhing in ecstasy as he thrust inside her.

Feeling his orgasm approaching, he slowed, replacing his fist with the thumb and first two fingers, lightening his touch. He allowed the climax to recede, regaining control.

Now, as he gently stroked himself, his other hand expertly pinched his nipples in time with his lower hand.

Bending his knees, he lifted his legs, planting his feet firmly on the mattress. He licked his dry lips and again summoned images of his dream lover. In his mind’s eye he saw her wrap her long legs around his hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper, harder. Wrapping his fist once more around his engorged penis, he again started to stroke himself firmly, his hips bucking in sync with his hand.

Leaving his nipples, his other hand moved down and, in the space between the base of his penis and his testicles, formed a fist and pushed down hard on the sensitive orbs. The intense pleasure/pain this induced drove him to a higher level of need. His desire for release was becoming overwhelming, but still he clung to his iron control.

In his mind, she writhed and groaned constantly, calling his name, begging him for completion. But he was not yet ready. Still maintaining the steady rhythm of his pumping hand, he lifted the fist of his other hand and gently grasped his testicles, pulling down, tightening the sac. The effect was immediate and pronounced. His body, glistening with sweat, arched up from the bed, his legs straightening, a loud groan issuing from his throat.

Gripping his penis tighter, he increased the tempo of his jerking hand and felt the oncoming rush of his orgasm. Bow tight with tension, he arched again and twisted his body sideways as the first spurt of semen left him, hitting his stomach and sliding off to his side. The subsequent emissions jetted over his still pumping hand onto the bed, accompanied by a choking cry as he released his testicles.

Loosening his grip, his hand slowed, eventually stopping altogether. He lay, panting and gently groaning as the aftershocks passed through him.

The last thought before blessed sleep claimed Jean-Luc was “Beverly”…….