Surrendering into a new headspace through foreign tongues [lull of languages, deepened arousal]

She was lost in the sound of his voice, carrying over from the speaker of her phone. Tightly, she held it in her hand, eyes fixed to the screen. Her lips formed a strained smile as she fought the waves of flustering and blushing, her lover toying with her desire and anticipation. She lost control of her body, squeals escaping her pressed lips as he talked to her, voice a low whisper, about all the things he wanted to do to her. Her hand sneaked between her legs, just as he guided her, feeling the wetness he caused. One moan and another breathed through her mouth as she rubbed herself faster for him, his voice wrapping around her mind.

He leaned over his own phone, pinning her down with his eyes, moving and talking and observing every twitch in her face, every little crease and flutter of her lashes, how her cheeks turned slightly more pink and her lips tightened. She thought for sure this was the next level of intensity he could make her feel. The only guys she gushed about like this, were the boyfriends in her novels. They had her squealing and squirming and gasping. But each time he asked her about her blushing cheeks, the high pitched noises escaping her plump lips, the way she needed to look away and break their eye contact because it was too much… she squealed and squeaked, hummed and squirmed. What was he doing do her… The way he leaned there in poise, so self-assured and composed. The way he bit his lip and moved his body as he talked about the ways he wanted to touch her sent shivers down her spine.

She was lost already. No ounce of power, not able to fight it, she strained against it but lost the battle, her body being thrown around in the pleasures he gave her and the pulling arousal caused by her own fingers rubbing her clit in tighter and tighter motions. But of course there was one thing… one more thing that had had an effect on her, always, from the very beginning. Something that truly made her lose her mind, lose all sense for time and space, maybe even hypnotize her in a way and formed her into a melting puddle of joy and ecstasy that carries her off.

His mother tongue.

She could handle the little phrases they had adapted into their register, the nicknames and expressions she had learned with him. The nicknames and conversations about their desire made her blush, it made her melt, causing her to nuzzle into the feeling. It had been familiar by then, they melted for each other with their own vernacular and she could take it like a good girl. But.

It was like a switch.

He started speaking in his native language, more than four words, and she could already sense it from the way he pronounced the first syllable that he was not going in a direction of their shared vocabulary. The way his voice dipped a little deeper and a tiny bit faster. And she switched.

No thoughts. Emptiness. Eyes, only for him. Ears, only hearing him. Lips, smiling and maybe sucked between her teeth. Turning into butter for this man. Every. Single. Time. When he ordered in the restaurant, when he had to take a call around her, when he sung his favorite songs, or when he chose to express his thoughts in his language for the sake of richer, deeper meaning. She was gone for. Completely. It didn‘t matter in what context it happened, her entire being was drawn to it whenever he spoke in this foreign language. It filled her up and left no room for anything else. She was sure it was shown in her eyes. The way she switched and was gone.

She knew this feeling of melting for him, turning into putty. And now she knew in what squealing ecstasy he could get her into. But this phenomenon was a different one on its own. It made her dreamy in a way she never reached with something else. It cleared her mind in ways nothing did. Because even when she melted, she had thoughts. And if it was just a simple I want him, He looks handsome, I can‘t wait to see you. The noises in her brain heavily reduced, a unique power he possessed. And she thought it could not get further. Because it never got further.

But then he suddenly spoke in his language and her body melted into the couch, the grip on her phone loosening and her wrist slacked down. His voice flowed into her ears and she groaned at the magic spell he must possess because the way his words pulled on he threads that held her together and untangled everything inside her mind and body before sweeping out each and every thought from her brain must be a secret power. It was so much more and so different to the whispers and moves from before. Irresistible hotness and attraction, desire and affection, but deeper and fulfilling in an all consuming way. The soft velvet of his language paired with his slightly lower voice soothed smoothly over her and hushed into her mind, leaving no space for confusion, overwhelming sensation, questions. She zoned out.

She could hear the way his tongue moved in his mouth, softer and smoother in this langue. The way his mouth forms the sounds and phonemes, these soft and round vocals, pronouncing them with so much warmth is filled her entire body from head to toe, drunk on the way it flow through her like hot honey. She could hear his soft lips parting, his tongue darting smoothly between the phonetics, as if he moved against her skin.

Everything about it made her body go slack and limbless, heat forming everywhere and weighing her down like molasses. It didn‘t set her on fire like the other arguing actions. It didn’t electrify her, put her on the edge, shot through her like lightning. It didn’t make her wild for him. No, this embraced the deepest form of arousal. A smooth flood of unwinded heat steamed through her and put her in trance. It directed her mind to float away, deeply relaxed, filled with nothing but air. Lightheaded, she swam away but to him at the same time, the invisible pull of his loose jaw and effortlessly smooth movements of his mouth felt as if they were touching her everywhere. She drifted away from the world. Tingles spread through her body, setting heat free everywhere and she could feel the push and pull of her hips and her body arch into the deep sensations. An instant reaction that would otherwise frighten her because of its power over her, all consuming. But he kept talking and she couldn‘t grasp a thought.

She wasn‘t sure if he knew how much effort it took. How much she had to pull some remaining energy together to follow his words, map out single words she recognized and hung onto, to decipher what he was telling her. A fight easily lost because the way everything wrapped around her had already lulled her into a dreamy land of nothingness but softness and warmth. She turned to mush, completely at his mercy and giving into the feelings, not that she had a choice. Her body decided for her. Her chest tightened and her skin pebbled in goosebumps, every hair raising as if it was arching to him. Shivers running down her spine, she knew her eyelids clasped. One blink, switch. Gone for him. Gone with him. Heat between her legs waiting to be ignited and put out, her mind untangled and empty waiting for him to put it back together whenever, nipples tightened in anticipation and desire. Toes curled in arousal, just once, briefly at first contact, because everything relaxed as soon as the soft sounds of his mother tongue reach her ears. It was the moment before, the first syllable, that first recognition he was going to speak to her like this because the sharpness of her ears and the attentive mindfulness of hers picked up instantly. It was the millisecond as he started to speak, the knowledge he was going to say more than four words, more than their shared register, more than her vocabulary and her knowledge. And then it drifted into through her ear into her mind, flipping something over she never knew existed, melting her away with the security you catching her.

And the more he spoke, the more build up inside of her. Relaxation and slipping away into this mushy brainless state as her body got more and more away of the sensations running along her skin. An ache growing between her thighs, making her weak and arching her at the same time, letting her arms fall open but some muscles in her legs contract. Her head rolled back and her lips parted in a sigh or moan or both and deep breaths, whimpers were followed by shallow ones, anticipation setting in. More, her body begged, as she floated away. Along the way she gave up decoding what he wanted to tell her, asking him for the translation with translucent eyes and small, pouty lips parted in serenity. And he could do whatever, she didn‘t care. She was gone. Trusting he would hold her through the state he put her in. Translating, or not, instructing her, or not, coming over, or not. She would move her fingers between her legs and trace around the wetness, giving into the shivers and pleasures if he told her so. She would hold off or just engage in other ways. She would cum for him when he wanted, how often he wanted. She would please him, if she found the strength within this slack momentum. And she would be happy. Afloat in the drift of his secret power over her.