Playground Games

She needed only to lead him to the flesh under her shirt; Army knew what to do from there. Once his hand met the skin on her breast, he went right to work, pressing in and cupping, kneading and releasing, sensual and- well, not gentle, exactly. But it was a far cry from the seam-ripping, drywall-breaking, take-no-prisoners fuck-fest that their recent fight would normally have led in to. They’d lost a lot of momentum, but there were very few things that the two of them couldn’t bounce back from. All in good time.

Amy closed her eyes; she was getting into it. But she opened them again almost immediately, when the idiot decided to stop. Before she could protest, intrepid fingers skipped along her thigh, then ever-so-lightly over her mound- if she were any less sensitive, she might not even have felt it- and her complaint turned into a gasp in her throat.

But that contact was brief as well. He stopped to lean in, leading with his tongue, and draw her into a slow, wet kiss. Her eyes closed again, and a hand floated up to the back of his head, pressing it closer into hers.

Then that stopped too. Hot and cold; frustrating.

Army knew exactly what he was doing of course. The best way to get somebody to want something is to put it juuust out of reach. Son of a bitch was teasing her.

And it was working. Their respective reservoirs of self-control were shallow pools, and Amy was rapidly reaching the bottom of hers. But she wasn’t there just yet- Amy could still play. And pushing Army to the point of losing control was one of her favorite games.

She bent her knees and pushed her hips back. Then she straightened her legs, lifting her ass against his growing bulge. Then she did it again, slowly. Up, down, up, down; left, right, up, down- like a brush, grinding without music, a standing lapdance. The hand on his head pulled it down into range and she moved in, mouth open, hungry… before stopping an inch from his face, her open mouth pulling wide into a cheeky grin. Her eyes, which had locked onto his lips like they could see nothing else, searched his face freely, playfully, twinkling.

The elevator rang for the fourth floor. After a pause, the door opened, revealing an empty hallway and rows of nondescript doors.

Army’s eyes were closed as his hands went about the work of exploring Amy’s body...though, it wasn’t really exploring if you already knew the territory by heart, was it? He was familiar with her breasts, both of them, had seen them in the dark and in the light and even once in a weird neon blacklight thing. His lips knew her lips, knew the right way to fit against them, and his tongue dipped into every crevice of her teeth. One of his cousins - not Felina - teased him once about the two of them, said he should go with a girl more his size, but that had never been a problem between them. Amy knew just how to fit with him. He knew just how to fit with her.

He also knew how to tease her like a well-tuned instrument, only this instrument could tease right back. She was good at it, too. Exceptionally good. When slide against him and pressed her curves into his lap, he let out a sharp gasp and a moan, the sort of noise that would make you think she hadn’t done it to dozens of times before. He could help. When Amy was in the mood, she was like a sexual force of nature - you could prepare, but there was only so much you could do for it.

Once more, she was winning the game. He put more effort into the distractions, tweaked her nipple, ran his fingers along the underside of her breast, tried and true techniques that worked before. But every twerk drove him crazier and crazier, and she pressed against him, and her lips were right there, and-

If the elevator door hadn’t opened right then, he would’ve hit the emergency stop and taken her right there.

Fortunately for them and the janitor, it did open, and Army took her lips into his own without hesitation. He spun her about so they could face each other - as much as he loved the position, they needed to move, then pushed forward, stepping out and continuing the fiery kiss. Army’s hand slipped underneath her jeans, taking a tight grip of her ass and pressing her close, as he took careful steps forward.

”Which…” He broke away from the kiss, but had to dip back in again before he could get another syllable off. ”Which door?” Army was having a little trouble thinking pass the incredible woman in his arms, which meant his memory took a hit.

Up and down. Amy watched the sanity slowly drain from Army’s eyes, leaving only dark pools of lust. She breathed hot air onto his lips, and his pupils dilated into disks, and, for an instant, Army stopped drawing breath. Amy braced herself.

Then he was on her, spinning her around and taking her lips so forcefully she should have fallen over.  But there was that hand on her ass again, feeling and squeezing, naturally, but steadying her, too, practically lifting her into him as he carried them both out of the elevator.

He stopped just steps into the hallway. The kisses continued- deep, breath-taking, mind-erasing kisses that set her body on fire after every encounter- but they were no longer moving, and he soon told her why.

His words came out low and gruff, single syllables, primitive. He was so turned on, wanted her so bad, that he could barely speak. Amy loved that.

But she didn't know the answer to his question. She vaguely remembered the lady-  man?- saying it was the first room on the fourth floor, but there were two first rooms- the one on the left and the one on the right- and there was no way for them to tell which she (he?) had meant. I mean, sure, the room numbers were printed on both the key and on the doors, but that would involve redirecting her focus away from Army’s body-  an impossible and unreasonable expectation.

So Amy guessed. She pivoted away from his grip and shoved him confidently toward the room on the left. And again. And as many times as she needed to slam her man up against the wooden door. Once he was where she wanted him, she jumped back into the fray. She surged upwards so that her tongue could reach the tender skin behind his ear while a thigh slipped surreptitiously between his legs. One hand had a white-knuckled grip on the waistband of his jeans, but the other seized one of his and pinned it dominantly to the door.

It was more than just a show of authority; she took the opportunity to press the room key into his hand- let him sort that out. She was busy with her own extensive to-do list: First, she had to move her lips from his ear down to his neck, then from his neck down to his collarbone. Then she had to plant a kiss on his left pec. The right column of his abs. Down his happy trail. And it wasn't like the bulge in his jeans was about to get on its knees and suck on itself. The plan after that was to slip his pants down low on his thighs and start in on the real thing; whether that happened out here in the hallway or in the privacy of their rented room would be entirely up to him.

What Amy wanted, Amy got, and Amy wanted him. God, did it feel good to have Amy want him.

‘Aggressive’ was the word that popped into mind as they came out of the elevator, but honestly, it wasn’t the best word to describe her. ‘Feral’, that might do it. She went at him with a rabid ferocity, fucking just like she fought. It might’ve looked a bit silly to the casual observer, seeing her push him around the hall like that. But they’d only think that if they didn’t know Amy, if they hadn’t seen how driven she could be, if they hadn’t felt the power she could pack into her tinier form. When she pushed him, he had to move. He had to be where she wanted him to be.

Where she wanted him to be was up against a door. Was it it the right door, though? If Amy was anything like him - and she was, in so many ways - her higher thoughts processes were on the fritz just now. He was having trouble putting two coherent thoughts together, especially with the way she was licking at his ear, thrusting up again, rubbing, sliding, kissing. His hand ran up and down, squeezing and scratching, while the other-

Oh. There were a keycard in that hand. He’d barely even noticed, but he got the gist quick enough. Of course, he was assuming that this was the right key for this door, which he had no way of checking at the moment. Amy was beyond demanding, and he knew damn well she’d have no problem doing it right in the hallway. He didn’t have a problem with that, either, but if he had the choice between a public, hard floor and a private, soft bed…

He felt about for the card reader, found it quick enough, then slid the card down the middle, right as Amy’s hungry lips made their way to his neck. A beep and a click - the door was unlocked. Army dropped the card, fumbled with the handle, the door opened and he immediately fell back, landing hard with Amy right on top. Not the most pleasant sensation, considering what his back had been through in the past hour, but he had a feeling she’d make him forget the pain soon enough.

A beep, a click, and suddenly they were moving again. Good boy.

They stumbled a step or two into the room before Army lost his balance (probably partly due to the leg tangled up between his) and fell. Progress on Amy’s agenda was barely affected (she was in the wrong relationship if an errant slam or two would turn her off). No; a quick pause, a tiny gasp on impact, and she went right back to work. If anything, the fall helped move things along. She’d shown nothing but sweetness to his ear and neck,- soft, tender lips and tongue- but, for his collarbone and chest, she gathered flesh between her teeth, bit down, and sucked. There was already going to be a monster bruise on his chest (she had to remember to make him send her pictures), but leaving her mark on his body was something that Amy just would never tire of.

Amy didn’t venture any lower than that, though. Instead, she took advantage of their new position by straddling his waist. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it carelessly away, making the two young lovers look like a Calvin Klein magazine ad. She grabbed his hands and pinned them dominantly over his head before attacking his lips with hers, her bare chest bearing down onto his, and generally trying to get as much of her touching as much of him as possible.

She breathed nosily, sparingly. Warm. Wet. His chest was smooth and hard. Jeans are about the worst dry-humping pants imaginable, but Amy's hips ground steadily back and forth down on his anyway, as though they had a life of their own.

A crash. A pause. And then they were back to it.

Army kicked the door and closed as Amy went to work, making him glad he’d gone for a simple shirt today - anything more complicated, and she would’ve ripped straight through it. It was probably a good thing for everyone in the establishment that Army lucked up and picked the right door. Aside from the mess he and Amy would’ve surely made and the property damage, things would’ve gone awkward if someone in the hall had heard the noise he made when she went at him with her teeth.

It was somewhere between a gasp and a yell, a moan and a shout, and it often came out when Amy switched from pleasure to pain on him in a flash. A hicky. Another one. Just the latest in a bunch of things that would make for weird conversations at his doctor’s checkup next week.

Never one to waste a second, Amy was quick to straddle his waist and move in, taking on one of their favorite positions. Their hips grinding against each other. Their chests sliding and pushing and heaving. Their breath mingling in the middle, until she dipped down.

He could’ve pushed up, obviously. She had the leverage on him, but he was strong enough. If he didn’t want to be held down, she couldn’t make it happen...but that was sort of the point. She was ravenous, and the harder she went, the less he wanted to do to stop her.

It took some supreme willpower, but he managed to move his lips away from hers, just for a moment. Long enough to bring them to her ear. ”Like being on top that much?”

Like he didn’t know. Amy sat up on her perch, pulled away from his tickling, gently teasing growls before they could drive her crazy. Her hands slid over his hilly biceps, thick shoulders, dipping briefly across his collar before finally pressing down on his brawny chest. Her hands did more than just grope; even as they kneaded his skin, they provided a brace to support her as her hips gyrated at an impossibly slow cadence. Power was a common thread in their relationship, pervasive in every activity they shared. His was physical- overwhelming, insistent, concrete. Hers was a little less so- sexual, persuasive, finessed. She was on top like this a lot. Could he seize the superior position? Yes, of course, and easily; both of them knew it. Did he? Not unless she wanted him to; both of them knew that, too.

Amy leered at his body with an undisguised hunger- a neck too thick for her to fully wrap her hands around, a chest stubbornly holding firm beneath her claws; abs like stone, arms that could- and did- break her as often as she could take; eyes that tore into hers and lit her soul aflame. “I love it.” she breathed. Then she leaned forward again, reverting to her original plans. Her lips hurried down his neck, his chest, his abs, just below his navel, before she finally- “Butt,” she commanded. He didn’t have to lift his hips, but it would make things a lot easier- before she finally freed him from what was surely getting to be a severely uncomfortable and cramped prison.

There was no hesitation, no moment of admiration- they’d passed that point long ago. Instead, she attacked him over his boxers, her hand steadying him at the base of his shaft and her mouth at the tip. A kiss hello, then her mouth went over his head, sucking and licking with open enthusiasm, making eye contact whenever he managed to glance down her way and delighting in the sensation of him straining against the fabric.

If Army got struck by lightning, lost his limbs and became blind, he would still be certain this was the most awesome day of his life.

There he was, still aching from the fight, but with Amy very quickly replacing that pain with pleasure. He’d just started to laugh at her response, when all of the sudden she moved down his body and gave him a rush, one that left him shivering.

There was a split second where he didn’t lift up after her command, mostly because he thought she’d said ‘But’, and was about to say something. Stupid. Should’ve known better. Amy wasn’t the sort of woman who talked a lot during sex, not when she was really into it. Amy was all about action.

Up came his hips and off came the boxers and over came her mouth, taking on his erection before it could even fully spring to life. The result left his toes curling and his back arching, as a loud moan forced its way through his throat. He sagged back down a moment later, but only by sheer will. Didn’t want to give things away too easy.

”Jesus fuck, fuck…” His words trailed off into murmurs as he reached down and ran his fingers through her hair. ”All this from a damn baseball…”

He could get a little rambly when she went down on him. Couldn’t be helped.

Armando “Army” Rodriguez stood six foot even and weighed in at just over 200 pounds. He was a boxer from a family of boxers, steeped in a proud fighting tradition stretching back generations. His body was a tank; a weapon designed and built for competing at the highest levels. Amy could control all of that with a single swirl of her tongue.

Amy was serene as she went down on him, slow and practiced. She savored the way he seized up and shuddered, but hardly let it interrupt her steady rhythm. Her hands were always moving- trailing along his bare thighs, pressed against his abs, wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft where her mouth couldn’t easily reach. When his hand ran through her hair, she gave a soft and happy hum, letting the sound waves vibrate her mouth around him- a reward for good behavior. Then Army spoke, and Amy nearly inhaled the whole thing.

She had to pull herself away from his cock as she rode down her laughter. Army was never afraid to speak his mind- she loved that about him- but having his dick sucked seemed to put a damper on whatever little review and revision process he did have in place, and things he said during blowjobs became some of Amy's favorite Army quotes.

“Promise me,” she began once her laughter passed. A trail of saliva spun from her lips to the head of his cock, thinning out to almost nothing before snapping out of existence. As she spoke, her hands continued to pump slowly, slowly, slowly away. “If I die choking on dick, you have to tell my dad I was murdered.” Then she went right back to work; sinking down until his head tickled the back of his throat, then pulling up again, gripping hard with her lips and swirling wildly with her tongue. She wasn't moaning, exactly, but the sounds she did make were still lewd, sexual, making it as clear as day just how much she was enjoying this.

It was kind of a weird thing to think about in a situation like this, but Army always loved how focused Amy could be while she went down on him. Most of the women who gave him head always went like they were in rush to get it over - sloppy, rapid, no real finesse. Not that he blamed them too much, and it would be a weird thing for him to complain about the quality of his blowjob.

But Amy? Amy had it down to a science.

Army’s back arched as she spoke and pumped away on him with her hands, not even giving him a second to come down from the high she had him lifted on. A small detail, but she was thorough like that, working with expert precision. He was left in anticipation as he waited for her mouth again, and when he got it, well…

”Ah!” Amy took him all the way inside and the resulting shock left him breathless, speechless, thoughtless for a moment. When his senses returned, he tried to think of a proper way to reply to her request, but his brain was having some difficulty forming jokes, for whatever reason.

”I promise...I pro…”

He was coming, he knew that much, could feel it surging through his system. His body took over operations, making him make the same heated gasp he always did right before the big moment, preparing for the final plunge and hoping - praying - Amy wasn’t evil enough to pull away at the most crucial moment.