When he lies on top of her, naked, inside her, her body pinned beneath him, he finds her ears alluring. Dark little holes in the side of her head, fringed and delicate, intimate points of sensory entry. He likes to speak into them. To whisper. Tell her all the things he plans to do to her, that he willimminentlydo to her… and feel her twitch or moan or clutch him in response.
She wants to kiss him. When he’s inside her, she’s hungry to be kissed by him. Deep, sloppy kisses, trading spit, his tongue pushing into her mouth. A kind of double penetration. She wants his mouth on hers constantly. And so, in order to speak into her ear, he must place a hand on the side of her face and push her cheek gently into the pillow.
With his thumb he brushes the crest of her ear. The cartilage. The soft little lobe. And she groans (he feels it as much as hears it, because she is pressed so snugly beneath him). She groans because she knows he is going to say things that make her feel both incredibly dirty and incredibly horny at the same time, and that this squirming mix of feelings will be both arousing and unbearable, and that he will enjoy her evident embarrassment, and that she will enjoy the pleasure he derives from it, and that this will feel dirty in and of itself…
Feeling that groan, he pauses. Contemplates her ear, for a moment. A dark, intimate little hole that leads directly into her brain.
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