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This story still isn’t quite finished, but here’s a sneak peek at it…

*****

We pad barefoot back into the kitchen, wrapped in thick towels, and I grab us each a bottle out of the fridge. We tap the necks of together. “Happy birthday, dude,” I say and you smile, taking a long drink of good beer. I lean against the counter and my elbow causes the little white birthday candles to roll into the sugar bowl before coming to a stop.

You set your beer down and pick up the candles, rolling them thoughtfully between your fingers. You smile a secret smile and raise your eyebrows at me.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you reply. “I was just thinking of how nice it would be to have some of those special low-temp candles…” You smirk. “Sometimes my dirty bondage fantasies just slip out.”

I put my beer down and undo my towel, re-wrapping it around my waist, baring my breasts. “Go for it.”

“No way, man. You’ll burn yourself with these.”

I sigh. “I can handle it. Trust me.”

“You keep saying that.” You look dubious, but the image in your head of hot wax dripped on my skin is clearly vivid.

I take one of the candles from you and light it. I hold it over my arm and let the wax drop on my skin. It stings, but not enough to make me flinch. “See?”

I scoop a handful of soft breast in my hand and hold the hot flame just inches over my quivering nipple. Silently, the first drop hits the sensitive flesh and I inhale sharply as the too-hot wax burns my nipple. It cools instantly to a more comfortable warmth, but that first sting is delicious, like a well-timed bite, painful, but good. Another drop joins it, and another until my nipple has a coating of white wax.

I blow out the spent candle and peel the wax off and the tender pink skin is hot and red. I do the same to the other nipple, wincing as the hot wax stings and then cools to a tender ache.

This time you blow out the candle and peel the wax off me. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mmm hmm,” I answer, nodding. “They could definitely use some soothing.”

You pull me close and kiss me, then you lower your head to the hot, aching red spots on my nipples. My towel comes unwrapped and falls to the floor. Your hand slides between my thighs, parting the still-damp curls and sinking easily between my lips. I moan as your finger finds my clit; you rub it gently, making it hard under your fingertips.

Your lips are gentle on my nipples, your tongue flicking against the hard points. The slight burns from the wax hurt, but the combination of the sting and the ache of pleasure of your licking and sucking are driving me wild. The subtle, constant pain is better than clamps or rings, even.

My cunt is reacting powerfully to the play. Your hands are working my body like you’ve known its every curve–every secret–forever. You slide your fingers inside me, pressing against me, leaning me hard against the counter. I’m bent back, arched for you, my legs apart as your fingers manipulate me. The only sound in the darkened kitchen is our breathing, soft moans and sighs, and the wet sounds of my pussy, the clicks as you plunge your fingers deep inside me and pull them back out. I know your fingers are shining with my juice and I grab your hand. You stop, confused, and then sigh deeply as I raise the two fingers to my mouth and suck on them.

I guide your hand back to my pussy, but you shake your head. “I want to taste you,” you say, and I’m in no position to argue. I hop up on the counter and you lower your mouth to my cunt, spreading my legs and easing them up over your shoulders. Immediately, you plunge your tongue into me, tasting me. I feel my own juices trickle from me, tickling down to my asshole, which you catch with your tongue and make me moan aloud. You tease the tender spot with your tongue before sliding it back inside my cunt, fucking me deeply.

My clit aches to be touched, and I reach down to stroke it, rubbing the little kernel between two fingers. You stop what you’re doing and watch me touch myself, kissing the soft skin of my inner thighs. When my hips start to squirm, you gently move my hand. “Let me,” you say and lower your head again, smiling up at me as I lick my fingers clean. You press your tongue flat against my clit and use the same motions I used with my fingers, mimicking the speed and pressure I used and making me moan anew. You slide two fingers inside me, curving them upwards in search of my g-spot.

The firm, even pressure deep inside calls forth my pleasure from a place far away, but it’s coming fast and hard. I feel myself lose control as your fingers massage and manipulate my very core, stimulating me in ways few have been able to. My palms slap against the countertop as I brace myself for the orgasm that breaks inside me, my muscles clenching deep within. I know you can feel that deep spasming and you keep stroking me, pressing the magic spot until the pulses have slowed. Your lips go around my clit and you suck; your tongue is about to bring me around again. A second time, this time on the surface, the spasms and throbs of pleasure are radiating outward, fluttering and pulsing quick and hard and fast, a high counter-melody to the first deep climax.

My cum is running over your hand, and as you slide your fingers out of me, it gushes forth, leaving a wet puddle beneath me.

You stand, and I wrap my arms and legs around you, kissing you deeply and tasting myself on your lips…

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