Her body -- so new to him, yet familiar. Being inside her -- different, yet comfortable. But the way she reacts, the way she uses her body around him -- unlike anything he's experienced before. The lower notes of his moan are nearly lost in her cry, but still in harmony with it, as their voices strike a chord together.
Both of his hands grasp her slender waist, his thumbs almost meeting at her navel, and holds her securely against the piano. With his upper body bent over hers, he pushes deeper inside her with firm, controlled thrusts of his hips, as regular and rhythmic as a conductor beating out a tempo, following the course of an unheard melody as it gradually swells and intensifies, or falls back into a rocking, soothing lull.
All the while, his lips touch hers. Not in kisses -- just touching, whenever the movement of their bodies bring their mouths close together, then apart, then close again. He breathes in her breaths, watching her face from under pale eyelashes, lost in the pure ecstasy of finally, finally, finally being able to fuck her like he'd always wanted to...
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Both of his hands grasp her slender waist, his thumbs almost meeting at her navel, and holds her securely against the piano. With his upper body bent over hers, he pushes deeper inside her with firm, controlled thrusts of his hips, as regular and rhythmic as a conductor beating out a tempo, following the course of an unheard melody as it gradually swells and intensifies, or falls back into a rocking, soothing lull.
All the while, his lips touch hers. Not in kisses -- just touching, whenever the movement of their bodies bring their mouths close together, then apart, then close again. He breathes in her breaths, watching her face from under pale eyelashes, lost in the pure ecstasy of finally, finally, finally being able to fuck her like he'd always wanted to...