Daydreams & Distractions ☼ Zipper

Zipper
A Daydream & Distraction by Redbud

  • Ximena sent me a note just a couple days ago reminding me that it’s been awhile. Nothing special, but I nevertheless hope you all enjoy it.

You ask me what the first time was like. The first time was with you.

What I remember is your zipper.

That’s right..

We were going out. I came to your flat. Your parents were visiting and you invited me to dinner with them. By the time I came to the flat they had gone to reserve a table. There was a half-hour wait and reservations were only taken in person. They were that kind of restaurant. I was dressed for it. What was I wearing? Ermenegildo Zegna. I can afford what I want and I wanted to make a good impression; not just with your parents.

You were still changing when I knocked at the door. You called me in and I waited in the living room.

You had already turned off most of the lights and were ready to go. You only needed one thing. You needed me to zip up the back of your dress. You walked out. Something about you changed when you saw me. Was it the suit?

You laugh…

“Zip me?” you asked.

How a woman wears clothes is sexier than nakedness. And how she undresses is sexier than what she wears. I could watch a woman undress all day. Stripping – an eternity in the few minutes when a woman makes a thousand promises with the revelation of a hem, when a man knows her womb is already his and only waits for her to engulf him. The last whiff of clothing falls to her ankle and he already sees how her legs will open.

So maybe it was the little kink in your walk when you saw me; the little arch; the down-turned eyes when you turned your back to me. Maybe it was the furtive backward glance. Your brown hair was gathered in wisps at your slender neck and your long, beautiful spine was a shadowy question mark. At the very base of your dress, where the zipper’s V stopped, the dark divide of your buttocks began. My hands shook as I stepped toward you.

How did I feel?

Like I was on a roller coaster. My face was burning. My heart was pounding. The leather soles of my shoes sounded like jack-hammers on the tile floor. But it wasn’t your neck. It wasn’t your hair. It wasn’t your dress, just barely low enough. It wasn’t the smooth chiaroscuro of your skin in that almost colorless light, or your shoulder blades, which I’d never seen before, or the flair of your hips or the way your back supply curved into the fullness and flair of your ass. What I remember is the zipper, the V just where the crease of your ass began, the way it wouldn’t go any lower.

You made me feel like I was in high school. Was I hard, you’re asking me?

I was rigid. And that was after masturbating in the morning. I was on my back, imagining you. I came and tasted myself on my lips. My chest was glistening. But my come was yours. It was your lips that I imagined. It was your hips and your opened legs.

I couldn’t see the zipper at first. I was blind. I was sweating.

Do you remember how I fumbled for it? You arched and lifted the zipper on the shelf of your ass. My heart was banging in my ears. I can’t explain what a woman can do to a man without words; with nothing but the feminine motion of her body. When I began to lift the zipper I counted the clicks. I saw the dress begin to tighten around your hips. Then I saw it tighten round your waist. I was imagining what it would feel like to hold you there, bent over, right where your waist is narrowest. I would open you from behind. As the zipper clicked upward and the dress grew taut round your breasts. I felt you exhale and tremble. I wanted to grab your hair, I wanted throw you down. I felt violent with desire. Could you feel it?

The zipper was almost to the top and, Christ, maybe there was one latch left. I couldn’t do it.

I don’t know what happened.

Did you turn to glance at me? Did you press against me with your ass? What was it? Did you spread your legs, just that little bit? I don’t remember.

All I remember is biting your neck. Curling my fingers there before pulling the zipper down, fast. I remember how you exhaled and leaned your head against my shoulder blade. I remember kissing your neck. I was frantic. I remember not wanting you to turn around. This was too urgent. I sculpted and plucked your nipples. I remember how you reached back for my hips. Then your hair was in one hand and your wrists in the other. I pushed you to the back of the couch. I remember the smoothness of your legs. Your back was sinuous and your shoulder blades looked like they’d sprout wings.

Before I bent you over the back of the couch, I pulled your dress down but not too far. I pulled it down. The point of the zipper’s V urged me downward through the divide of your ass until it was just below the dark juncture where your thighs parted. The V was just low enough to pierce you. I remember the smell of you. I remember how you didn’t try to straighten. You waited, hands to either side, gripping the ridge of the couch back. Your elbows were high.

I unzipped.

The first thrust couldn’t wait. Christ but I wanted you. You cried out and so did I. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, bent over in front of me, ass up, high heels, legs spread, neck arched, back muscles tight as a drum and your stretched abdomen filled with cock. I just held you like that and you let me. This is what I wanted to see. I knew your mouth was open. I could hear you breathing.

I pushed deeper with my pelvis and you groaned.

I just wanted to feel my cock inside you. Finally. I didn’t want to move. We stayed like that. Remember? That’s when I knew you wanted me inside you as much as I did. I liked how you didn’t turn to look at me. There’s something about the way a women gives her body to a man.

When I finally drew back you exhaled again, so did I.

Then I couldn’t wait any longer. Call it instinct. I felt like I had to finish claiming you. I had to take your womb. I couldn’t thrust any faster. I remember arching your neck by the hair. I remember how you opened your legs for me, inviting me to burst inside you. I remember your wetness matting my groin and the pungent smell of fucking, and how strange it was to wear an $2000 dollar suit and to be fucking you in your $1500 dollar dress. All the while my cock pierced you just above the opened V of the zipper.

I always imagined what you would sound like when you came.

I didn’t know I would feel you squeezing me. I didn’t know how perfect a woman could feel – so soft and softly rough. Your orgasm tripped my own. All I could do was shout and roll my eyes to the ceiling. I held your narrow waist tight against my groin, spurting as deeply into your taut midriff as I could.

What was that like?

I had never had an orgasm inside a woman. It’s different than hands or even a mouth. It’s freeing. We just let go. We can’t stop it. Every part of your pussy, the dark depths of your warm belly, is massaging and sucking us as we come. That’s what it feels like.

If you let me, I would fuck you every day. It feels that good.

Afterward?

I let you go and you glanced back at me as you straightened. Your eyes were half-lidded. You licked your parted lips. There’s something about a woman who has just made love. I’ll never forget that look – that moment when a man realizes he’s been claimed too. Sultry. You looked like a woman who had gotten what she wanted. I was inside you now. You had sucked my essence out of me. You were beautiful, womanly and powerful. I was yours.

“The zipper?” you asked.

You arched the small of your back and widened your legs. I fell to my knees behind you. I watched the zipper’s V rise as I pushed the dress upward and over the round of your hips. I could see my orgasm – a white froth glistening thickly in the dark divide between your thighs. Your pussy disappeared under the V as I pushed it up.

I stood, lifed the dress over your shoulder, then slowly zipped it.

I felt like I was sealing my come inside you.

Didn’t you want to clean off? Didn’t you want to put on new panties? No. You wanted me inside you when we went out. I put my arms around your waist and the flat of my hands against your warm belly. I imagined I could feel my heat and wetness newly inside you. You leaned back against me and kissed me. I remember thinking your lips were as soft as the lips between your thighs, that everything about a woman was soft, inviting, and different.

You know what you said?

No?

You said: “Thank you,” and then, “for zipping me up.”

William Crimson July 7 2011

Categories: Consensual, CP, Erotica, First Time, Insemination, Quickie, RedBud, Rough SexTags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

13 Comments

  1. Mystique

    I think what’s more sexier than a hot sex scene is to hear ‘what it’s like for a man’ during it.

    What he thinks, feels, expresses, senses during sex, since as a woman, it’s a world we’ll never be able to experience but love to know what we’re doing to contribute to it.

    That perhaps for me could be close to the sexiest thing in a guy for me, methinks :)

    Many thanks for the tale (and to Ximena for reminding you) :p
    For ‘nothing special’ it sure left a something special for me ;)

  2. vanillamom

    How?

    How did i miss this?

    OMG, Will….this is…wow. I hate, hate, that you’ve been wrapped up in real life for so long…but this?

    This was worth waiting for…!

    Thanks…for zipping in…and out…*wink*

    (you’ve been missed)

    nilla

  3. vanillamom

    i didn’t notice…coz i have a brain like a sieve…but i went back and looked and damned if you didn’t…

    *aww*…that is wicked awesome…i’m delighted…and it’s funny coz even reading about neck biting gets me…

    well…we know what it does to me , right? no need to bore everyone with the details…

    thanks Will!

    nilla, charmed…

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