I love evenings like this.
Orli and I are sprawled on the living room carpet with a feast of spicy Chinese takeout spread before us to serve as our dinner, watching an old movie on TV. At this point, we're finished eating and the movie is nearing its conclusion, so it's only natural that my mind starts wandering to other things. Like how incredibly beautiful my lover looks lounging on the carpet.
He's bathed in the soft glow of the black-and-white film, one hand distractedly twirling a single chopstick while his eyes are focused on the television. My libido predictably comes alive at the sight, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when he won't arouse me beyond belief. I doubt it. This is what happens when you're in love with the most impossibly gorgeous man in the world.
The chopstick is now in his mouth and he's nibbling on it for some reason, either to get the last bits of taste of his dinner or because he simply feels a bit twitchy right now. Knowing Orli, it's probably the latter. "What are you doing?" I chuckle.
He shrugs. "I don't know." With a wicked grin, he slides the chopstick deeper into his mouth and makes an obscene sucking noise. I roll my eyes and laugh, wishing my camera was right next to me so I could capture this absurd moment for posterity.
"Why are you giving a blow job to a chopstick?"
"Because I have an oral fixation," he explains as he pulls the wooden stick out of his mouth and tosses it on top of the takeout cartons. "Lucky for you, huh?"
"Very lucky for me," I laugh. "Of course, I think I have a bit of an oral fixation myself."
"Oh, I'd say that you do."
"And I also have an Orli fixation, but that's a whole different matter."
"Cheeky," he admonishes with a smile, leaning in to kiss me. My tongue teases the seam of his lips and it parts immediately to give me entry to his mouth; our tongues duel as our clothed bodies entwine on the floor. The dinner is forgotten and so is the movie, as all that seems to matter is where Orli's mouth meets mine.
His hands fumble blindly for the remote, and then there's a sudden silence as the television is turned off. Well, silence except for our small moans as the make-out session progresses, our hands roaming over each other's bodies while the kisses intensify even further. The jeans he's wearing are so loose that I'm able to simply slide them down over his hips, which makes my quest to get to his cock much easier. Also making my task easier is the fact that he's not wearing underwear.
"Going commando, I see," I tease as I break away from his addictive kisses.
"There's no reason to wear underwear when it's just the two of us lounging around," he reasons. Well, I can't really argue with that. Besides, who wants to debate the politics of underwear when there's some serious fun to be had? Orli's jeans are bunched around his knees and his erection is jutting proudly from between his thighs -- a tantalizing sight if ever there was one.
He leans back against the couch in a silent invitation and I kiss his mouth once more before leaning down to press my lips along the soft skin of his inner thighs, teasing him until his hands are pulling gently at my hair in an effort to direct me to where he needs my mouth to be. I take the head of his cock into my mouth, gently swirling my tongue around the slit that's already oozing precome so I can savor the unique taste. Above me, his breath grows ragged as I suck at the hard flesh between my lips, and I hear a moan escape him when I begin to take more of his cock into my mouth.
I relax my gag reflex to let his entire length pass into my throat until my nose is brushing up against the musky black curls of his pubic hair. He always tastes so unbelievably good in my mouth and this is no exception; I start moving slowly up and down on his cock, showing him just how much of an oral fixation I have. The mixture of sounds he lets escape from his mouth, from slight whimpers to throaty sighs to low moans, is an aphrodisiac to me, and my hands push at the hem of his tee-shirt as I try to touch the skin of his stomach.
After quickly removing his shirt, Orli lets his hands come to rest on my head, his fingers running through my hair as he continues to let out those delicious moans. My hands do some exploring of their own, one moving up to roam over the muscled, now-naked plane of his stomach while the other caresses his balls. Meanwhile, my mouth stays focused on bringing him as much pleasure as possible, pulling back to lavish my tongue on the tip of his erection before deep-throating him again, making sure to use my tongue generously.
"Shit, Viggo . . . I'm gonna come," he gasps. That declaration only makes me step up my efforts, sucking as hard as I can at his cock while my hand gently squeezes his balls. "Viggo!" he cries as his grip on my hair turns almost painful. His hips buck a moment before the first jet of come hits my tongue, and I keep my mouth on his cock as he rides out his orgasm, determined to catch every drop of his release.
When I'm satisfied that he's finished with his climax, I pull away and move up to press my lips to his for a deep kiss. Orli lets out a muffled cry of surprise when I push his come into his mouth, then breaks away so he can swallow his own taste. There's a quick flash of pink tongue as he licks hips to make sure that there are no more stray drops he can capture.
"That was . . . wow." Orli's breath is still uneven as he pulls me into a tight embrace. "I mean, you talked about doing that on the audio tape you sent me when I was in Mexico, but this was amazing."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I chuckle.
"And now I think you deserve a treat for being so good to me," he purrs, reaching down to unzip my jeans, reach into my boxers, and finally free my erection. A treat? I like the sound of that. "What do you want, Viggo?" His lips brush against my ear, making me shiver as a warm hand closes around my cock.
"I want you inside of me. I need to feel that, Orlando," I tell him before drawing him in for a kiss. He groans and then plunders my mouth with his tongue, previewing what I hope his cock will be doing to my body in a few minutes.
"We need lube," he says when the kiss ends, as he frantically pulls his jeans all the way off. He then looks around the room as if a tube of lubricant might have magically appeared on the carpet, eliminating what looks like a necessary trip to the bedroom to retrieve the stuff. "Do you think we could use some of the soy sauce that came with our dinner? That could work as lube, right?"
Soy sauce? "I seriously doubt it, love," I say, trying to keep myself from wincing at the thought of being opened up by soy sauce lubricant. "Would it be so terrible for you to run down the hallway and grab some lube?"
"We really should keep some in the kitchen," Orli grumbles as he gets to his feet, leaning down to bestow one last kiss on me. "You know, for emergencies."
"Right, and what if Henry found it? Do you think we'd ever live that down or he'd ever get over it? I prefer keeping it in the bedroom, if you don't mind."
"Spoilsport," he calls as he makes his way to our room. I just grin and work at getting undressed for him, tossing my clothes over into the corner and not caring that my shirt ends up landing on top of one of our plants. Okay, now I'm fully naked. Where on earth is Orli? It shouldn't take him this long to find the lube; if I recall correctly, we put it back in the drawer after using it last night. We're very careful with where we put that little tube, because we're seriously screwed (and not in a good way) if we lose it.
He finally comes back into the living room naked, breathless, and carrying both the lube and a spare blanket that I keep in the linen closet. "What took you so long? And what's with the blanket?" I ask, wondering if maybe he has some kind of elaborate, picnic-style seduction in mind. That's a bizarrely sweet idea, but I really just want to get him inside of me right now.
"Quit bitching and stand up," he orders. I promptly do as I'm told, watching as he places the blanket down on the carpet. "Okay, now you can assume whatever position you want. I just didn't want you getting any rug burns from doing it on the floor."
"Thank you," I say with a smile. "That's very considerate."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now pick your position so we can have a nice shag."
Finding no reason to argue with him, I get down on my knees with my ass in the air for him, anticipation quickening my breath as he kneels down behind me. I can hear the sounds of the lube being opened and slicked onto his fingers and cock, then there's the first gelled finger pushing at my entrance and breaching my body. Another finger quickly follows, making me moan and roll my hips back at him when he scissors his fingers apart to prepare me for what's next.
"More," I gasp. "I'm ready for more."
"Another finger?" he teases.
"Jesus Christ, would you just fuck me already?"
"You have such a dirty mouth sometimes. You really should work on toning down your foul language."
"You're one to talk. Look at how often . . . you . . . curse." My speech slows down as his erection presses against my ready and willing entrance. "Need you now," I plead. "Please, Orli."
"Please what?" His breath is hot on my back as he presses a kiss to my spine.
"Please fuck me."
Since Orli is a man of action, he responds by entering my body with a hard thrust that rips a cry of pleasure from my mouth. He starts to do exactly what I've asked of him, fucking me with deep strokes that feel like they're splitting me open. His fingers dig into my hips as he sets a wonderfully relentless pace that knocks the breath from my body and coaxes countless moans from my mouth. Yes, this is exactly what I want from him tonight -- a good, hard, merciless fuck. I'm lucky that he knows my needs this well.
"God, you feel amazing," he marvels, dropping kisses over my back in between his forceful thrusts. "I love to be inside of you, to hear you moan under me as I drive into you over and over. You're so incredibly sexy, Viggo." How on earth is he managing to string together multiple syllables right now?
I'm not able to talk in complete sentences like Orli is, but I am quite capatble of making very loud noises, especially when his cock first brushes the spot that makes me see stars. Pleasure flares through my sensitized body and I cry out his name. My fists clutch at the blanket as I push my hips back, trying desperately to pull him even deeper into me. I want more of him; I always do. The sensation of being claimed by him is so utterly sublime, and I need it to be as complete as possible.
Orli adjusts his rhythm so that he's moving even faster, angling his strokes to hit my prostate with almost every push. His coherency is gone, replaced by loud moans and ragged gasps that are occasionally punctuated by crying out my name or that of a deity. I absolutely love that he's a screamer. To be fair, it's not exactly as if I'm being silent right now. Okay, so we can both be screamers. But in my defense, I'm dealing with a wickedly skilled lover who knows exactly what to do to me.
When one of his hands relinquishes its position on my hip so it can reach around to stroke my cock, that nearly sends me jumping out of my skin. I've been close to orgasm for so long, almost since the moment he entered me, and it takes all of my willpower not to come right at that moment. His hand works slowly up and down my throbbing erection in stark contrast to the almost frenzied thrusts that his cock is using to plunge into my body with. Slender fingers dance over the head of my cock at the same time that another thrust hits my prostate, and that's all I can take.
With an inarticulate groan and a shudder that wracks my body, I come on his hand as my climax finally courses through me. That feels *so* indescribably good. It would be the understatement of the year to say that Orlando Bloom is a terrific fuck. Not to mention that it's far from being the primary reason why I love him so much -- although it doesn't hurt.
Through my haze of orgasm I can feel Orli continuing to thrust into me, obviously trying to reach his own climax. It only takes a few more moments before the sensation of his come spilling into me brings a smile to my face. We really do have great timing together in bed without ever becoming routine. It's almost like synchronized lovemaking. And if it were an Olympic sport like synchronized swimming, I'm sure that we'd win the gold medal. In case you didn't notice, I can get very loopy in my post-orgasmic state of mind, even more so than usual.
"Vig?" Orli's voice brings me back to the here and now as he rolls off of me, causing his cock to slip out.
"Hmm?"
"I love you." My insides are now made of mush.
"I love you, too." Finally gathering up the strength to roll over, I give him what I'm sure is a goofy look of adoration before pulling him in for a long kiss.
"That was nice," he murmurs when the kiss ends.
"I figured it was the least I could give you in return for the wonderful sex *and* putting a blanket down so neither of us got carpet burn," I explain.
"Yes, I'm quite the Good Samaritan," Orli laughs. "Also, I realized that if we had sex on the carpet, that could lead to some very embarrassing stains that you wouldn't want to have to explain to anybody."
I blush at the thought. "Good thinking."
"Are there any stains on the blanket?"
"Um . . . ." I blush even more as I see a big stain that stands out sharply against the light blue fabric of the blanket. "Yeah, there's one. This definitely needs to be thoroughly washed and sanitized before it goes back in the linen closet for general use."
"Maybe we should just keep it in our room from now on," he suggests.
"Yeah, that sounds like a better idea."
Orli grins and gives me a quick kiss. "I guess I should just use napkins to clean up, since I don't have the energy to go all the way to our room right now for the wet-naps."
"Right, because it's such an incredibly long distance," I tease.
"Oh, hush. It takes a lot of energy to fuck your brains out, old man." He reaches over for the napkins from our dinner, only to let out a screech. "Fucking hell, not again!"
"What's the matter?" I sit up in alarm.
"She ate all the food!"
"Maude?"
"Who else?" He quickly cleans off his hand with the napkins and then checks the takeout cartons, only to discover that our dog did indeed finish all of the food. "We were going to have that for lunch tomorrow! And she just waltzed in here and ate it!"
"You're surprised by this?" I ask with a grin.
"Well, I didn't see her come in! When on earth did she . . . oh." His eyes widen. "Holy shit, she was eating our food while we were having sex!"
"And we didn't even notice," I chuckle.
"So we were going at it and she was right near us, gobbling down the takeaway?" Orli looks scandalized beyond belief. "Maude shouldn't be exposed to things like that!"
"Maude sleeps in our bedroom half of the time; she's seen us having sex before. She's a *dog*, Orli. God only knows if she comprehends or cares what we're doing when we go at it. She didn't seem to care this time, since her priority seemed to be the Chinese food."
"That's true," he acknowledges. He stretches his limbs, looking inhumanly graceful as he arches his back and yawns. "You know who's the real voyeur? Pokey. That cat really likes to watch us."
"I've noticed. I think it's because he's fascinated by any kind of physical action, though."
"Well, there was that time he tried to join us, thinking it was playtime," Orli shudders. "Good thing he learned that sex is not for neutered kitties."
"Yes, because bestiality really isn't our thing."
He snorts. "It sure as hell isn't. Hey, what time is it?"
"About ten-fifteen," I tell him, looking at the clock on the VCR.
"Do you want to see if we can find another old movie on the telly? It's still pretty early," he says as he curls up next to me.
"That sounds nice." Finding the remote control, I turn on the television again and we switch channels until settling on exactly what we want. I place a kiss on top of Orli's soft curls, and he looks up at me with a heart-stopping smile before returning his gaze to the television. His hand easily finds mine and we settle in to watch another movie.
Like I said before, I love evenings like this.
