Make-It-Beat

His voice sent something hot pouring down your spine to pool in your belly. You were going to come again if he kept it up. But his words also sparked a new kind of hunger. A need to have him closer to your chest, even more engaged with the muscle he treasured so highly.

“Wait,” you joined your hands behind his head and pulled him down into a kiss as he stilled his movements. “I want you to come on my chest,” you confessed, delighting in the way his eyes lit up at the request. “Slide your cock between my breasts and come on me.” He let out a shuddering breath and you swelled with pride. You were both going to enjoy this.

Gently, he pulled out of you and set the stethoscope aside. You repositioned yourself on the pillows and spread lube across your sternum. In many situations your ample breasts felt like a burden but now, they were an asset. He moved to straddle your torso then leaned forward and gripped the headboard so that his cock, red and pulsing, came to rest just over your visibly quivering pump. You pushed your breasts together to enclose him and he moaned loudly.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he hissed, eyes clamped shut. “I can feel your heart hammering right against my cock.”

You smiled victoriously, squeezing the tender flesh of your breasts as a surge of arousal coursed through you again. “Yes,” you breathed. “She’s begging you to fuck her. She’s all yours.”

He let out an animal sound, something low and primal, as he braced himself against the headboard and began to move. His pace built quickly, sliding his length against your sternum as you enveloped him with the warm cushion of your breasts. It always turned you on to have a man thrusting between your tits, rubbing his cock all over your chest. You had never confided in anyone before him that the reason you wanted so much attention there was because of what laid unseen within it. Bizarre as it may seem to some, you wanted someone to fuck your heart itself, wanted to feel them that deeply in such a vital part of you, wanted the contractions of your beats to clench around them the same way your cunt could. And he understood that. He wanted the same.

It didn’t take long for sweat to bead on his brow, a stream of needy noises pouring out of him as he plowed between your breasts with enough friction to heat your skin. Your heart was playing her part as well, thrilled at the attention and stoked by the delicious sight of his throbbing head pushing desperately through your cleavage, she was slamming hard, jumping up to tease his nerves and veins and delicate skin with her tremors.

Now it was your turn to goad him on. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my heart. My slutty little pump. You’re fucking her so good. She’s pounding so hard. She wants your cum. She wants you to come right on top of her.”

Those were the magic words because he pulled back frantically, looming over you, cock in hand as he tugged to the finish, panting and desperate.

“Where?” He gasped. “Please, which point do you want it on? Tell me… please…”

Fuck. With one hand you pointed to your tricuspid, your loudest, most visible auscultation point just below your left breast. The other hand fell helplessly between your legs to relieve the mounting ache he had built there again.

With perfect aim he broke, shooting his release directly onto its target, hot ropes of cum painting across your pounding organ. You moaned in unison as you reached your second peak, gentler but no less mind-numbing. “Yes, come on my heart. Coat her in it. I need it.”

But its rhythm didn’t stay that way for long. The fingers of his other hand slipped into your folds to tease your clit and you felt the immediate thrumming response in your chest. It didn’t take long for you to become soaked and needy. Not when he was in control. Not when you knew the cast-iron cock pressing into your cleft was due to the vital sounds of your eternal drumbeat. You both let out small moans as he slid into you, one hand heavy on your hip while the other pressed the steth into your ribs.

He held you close, rocking your body as he matched his thrusts to your beats, gliding into you over and over. You were well and truly awake now but kept your eyes closed, losing yourself in the sensations. His hand moved back to swirl around your nerves and he expertly guided you to release, all of his motions reciprocating the escalating pace of your heart. His hips thrust faster and faster, both the cause and result of your tachycardia.

Just when you were approaching your peak and your pulsing walls began to constrict, he surprised you. He wrapped both arms even tighter around you, dropping the steth and interlocking his hands under your breast, right on top of your pounding heart. Then he pressed, quick and insistent pushes against your sternum, ribs, and the tremoring muscle trapped behind them. You drew in a shuddering breath, moved by how he always found new ways to anticipate and satisfy your desires. He knew you wanted this. He knew you always craved to have him replace your heart’s flailing rhythms with the one his hands dictated.

Driving his palms and his cock into you simultaneously, he crushed you back into his own chest as he took command of your fluttering pump. You laid pliant in his arms, allowing yourself to be carried away on the wave, undulating with the movements of his compressions and thrusts. Chest invaded by his hands, cunt invaded by his cock, you ceded control of your body to him. He would steer it, revive it, set it aflame. He would fill it with his strength and his passion. The rhythm he squeezed into your heart and the blooming heat he erupted inside were both signs of his adoration.

He teases you, fingers and tongue over your pulse points, every valve, and lower to your dripping center. You know he wants to make your heart race before the final push, before he invades your body with his cock and your chest with his steth, listening smugly to everything he’s causing within you.

You moan first as the diaphragm lands on your skin and arch your back to press up against it. You want him to hear you clearly, to have no doubts that he is the catalyst for your thunder. Then you moan louder as he slides his length in to the hilt. Pleasure dances across his features and you know it’s as much from the feel of you as from the sound. This is your power. The strength of your pump. It makes a man stiff and needy with its honest percussion, thrumming out a song of desire.

He delivers you just as much pleasure as you rile in him, pummeling with his steely cock as he keeps careful vigil over your heart, one hand holding the steth over your loudest valve while the other caresses your neck, thumb pressing into your carotid. You’re lost to the sensations, the glide of him within you, the reverberation of your desperate pounding just under his fingers, the way his pelvis grinds against your clit as he hits that mirroring spot inside, rocketing you to the finish. But all the while, even though he is the one moving, he never lets you doubt that you are the source of all this energy. You and the engine hidden within you. It pumps his blood just as much as it does yours, its drumming spurring him on, fucking you faster in time to its beat.

You bask in the twin rhythms, the slamming inside your torso now in harmony with the thrusting of his hips. You’re undulating, whole body rolling as he drives into you and groans at the sounds he is fueling. And his actions, though fierce, are reverent. His back curves as he lays atop you, sucking and licking at the veins in your neck. With your chests pressed together you can feel the steady hammering of his own heart which causes you to clench around him. How is he capable of this? Of making you feel so glorious when you have submitted completely to his will? It's because you know he has submitted himself to the contractions of your vital muscle, demonstrating with his body and words how beautiful he finds it, how valuable. He’s a lapidarist, honing and appraising every glimmering beat under his hand and in his ears, treating them with the utmost care as he shapes them with his skills. And as you come apart together, throbbing as rapidly in your chests as you do where you’re joined, you feel treasured. His gasps hot on your neck, hands pressing in to feel the lurch of your heart in orgasm, you know that you are the bearer of a priceless gift. Something red, rich and precious that he covets above all else. A jewel.