I want to know your secret. I see it. Every day. In the corner of your mouth, in your eyes, in the curve of your hips, in the skin on your hands. Some nights I lay in bed and I ponder, how deep does it go? How far could I reach before you stopped me?
I think of you. And I worry about me and you and how we feel when we touch. Is it warm for you? Does it feel hot like it does to me? Your secret is electric and I'm wired for another taste of it. I like the shock. I like the thrill. I like the speed at which you race through me.
I'm restless tonight and its all your fault. I'll stay up late, wondering how you feel. Wondering what you would do if I told you just how good it is when you're close to me. Would you try to steal my breath, just to hear me gasp? I think you would, because I would if I were you.
How deep could I go? How far would I be willing to reach before I pulled away? You lock yourself up tight. I see you in your tower and I think of you and a white horse and how I want to ride away with you on the back of it with your hands around my waist. You're wrapped up in red gauze and I want to pull it away and see you the way you are when no one is looking.
I think I share your secret. I think I know where it lies. I think I could take it and run my hands through it and know that you and I are more alike than we'd either one like to admit. You and I are running on the same plane, to the same place, and we race like there's no one else in the world who sees us. We're bound up together and I can feel you all around me.
But I've spotted you and I think you see me coming. I can hear it in your breath and I can feel it in the air. I've got eyes like a cat in the dark and I'm looking for the place you hide.
Showing posts with label naughtiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label naughtiness. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Can You Make it Last?
Wow, guys. You like the posts about sex! I think that last post was my highest hit count in ages. Not that I'm mad, or suprised. Most of the people who read my blog are friends of mine...or I should rather say that I haven't had anyone new comment on it in a long time, so I assume I know most of you who are reading me...
Anyway. I was glad to see that you're dropping by, and since we're on the subject, and both you and I seem to like it, I figured I would continue it. Sex is an endlessly fascinating subject to me, I could probably blog exclusively about it if I felt like it. I won't I promise, but I could.
The thing I was thinking about the last couple of days is rather convoluted. I was thinking about sensuality and also what constituted good sex. This came about in a rather off kilter sort of way. Part of it was I was rethinking over some of my past conversations with my friends about the topic. The other was I was reminded, as a result of these conversations, of an old lover of mine who accused me once of being "really sensual." I took it as a compliment, but the thing was, out of all my lovers, this would be the one I would least expect it from. It still baffles my mind. Let me explain:
This particular lover of mine was not someone I was in love with. It was a fling. We slept together a few times, off and on. It was never anything serious. This partner was, to be honest, a bit of a jerk and that was part of why I liked them. There were never any pretentions to love or a long term relationship, and as most of you who've known me long will corroborate- I like pig-headed partners if I'm out for a good time. They're more of a challenge and I pride myself on my ability to please even the toughest of comers. (no pun intended)
The reason I was so suprised was because this person was not romantic at all. We weren't romantic, even when we were sleeping together. In fact, this was one of my first experiences where I realized that sex is not something you could take seriously all the time. We'd be sitting on the couch talking politics and all of a sudden I'd discover we were having sex. I mean, yeah, that's why I'd come over, but all the same I was stunned to discover a debate about medicare and social security could work as foreplay. We carried on the conversation while having sex. Some people might say that's terribly boring, or maybe the epitome of geek sex. I don't think it was either of those things. We had a nice time, it felt good, we were both pleased. But my partner didn't see the point in stopping the conversation just because we were into each other.
Given this rather unique situation (one I haven't repeated since then) I was really suprised when I was told by them that they found me "really sensual" and that it came as a bit of a suprise to them. I don't know that love and politics, or any other sort of serious topic, usually go hand in hand. Apparently, though, this time, it worked. I mean, at the time I took the compliment with a puzzled smile and moved on. But thinking about it now- I don't think I was trying to be sensual. I was just enjoying myself. Does that always constitute sensuality? I'm not sure.
I think that I've been with plenty of people who were extremely sensual, but you could tell they were trying to be. I've been with people who just were and it was a part of them. I'm not sure how you would define it. I mean, I think in relation to myself, my "sensuality" as it were is more that I am an extremely tactile person. I like to touch and to be touched. What's the point of sex if you can't enjoy a person completely? I want to feel every part of my partner. I don't think that's sensual, I think that's good sense. I mean...I hate to use the phrase "you've seen one you've seen them all" because that is certainly not the case. But, I do think that there are far less suprises when it comes to the actual sex organs than there is in the rest of the body of the person you're sleeping with. I mean, doesn't everyone enjoy finding the nice spots, the ticklish spots, the places where they have birthmarks, freckles and scars from falling on the playground as a child? Those are the best places. Those are the places that make your partner unique and interesting. Right?
I'm interested, you see, in what you think sensuality is. Maybe its that I have no definition to work from. Maybe its because if I actually set out to be that way, I feel like I'm play acting. Of all things, I think sex should be real. I think the act itself is something that should be natural for both people involved.
Which sort of, kind of, brings me to the second thing milling about in my head. What constitues good sex, and how important is it? If you go back to my post prior, and you think about the first time you sleep with someone, I think there's that moment there where you consider afterwards exactly how that felt for you. I think sometimes that's a determining factor for whether or not you do it again. Not always, but sometimes.
Now, I was debating with someone the other day about whether or not you should dump somebody because the sex is bad. I think that's not ever a good cause, although I think in that there is a root problem that possibly goes deeper. Here's why. My friend argues that if the person is trying, and maybe they aren't experienced, or they're nervous, or whatever and it doesn't go as well as you hoped, you shouldn't be basing your whole relationship solely on that act. There has to be more. I do agree. I think that sometimes it takes partners time to find a good stride. And if you are new to it, or you've been less adventurous that your partner, or you just did things differently with all your other partners- sometimes there's a learning curve. You don't say, "well, that didn't work for me, so we can't date anymore."
I am totally there on that one. BUT I also think that if you've been with your partner for a while and things in the bedroom have never heated up, that's something to be concerned about. Here's why- there's a compatability issue here. Maybe you don't trust your partner (you probably shouldn't be having sex with them). Maybe they're selfish. Or you are. Maybe their kinks are simply too much for you, and you can't handle it and it freaks you out. Okay. I get it. But I think that you put that up to a relationship issue that's been manifesting in the bedroom. Its then, I think, you can probably say "maybe this is not working for us" and move on. But I also think you make it clear, the sex may not be great but its a personality thing that's really killing it. Also, I think if you've been with someone a long time and the sex goes bad...well, that's a problem too, and likely one that has nothing to do with sex.
Anyway, so good sex? Important? Yeah, probably, but I think in a different way then most people would think. I've had partners that I didn't think were as talented or adventurous as others I'd been with. This doesn't mean they were bad, just different. I think you're on a slippery slope when you start comparing partners. And at no time do you ever say "my old partner did this and it really worked for me, try it." That's a killer there. I mean, yeah, if you like a certain technique, teach your partner and see if it still works for you. But, for god's sake, don't mention your ex, because that puts other people in the bedroom with you and is a can of worms you probably don't want to open. I'm just saying...
As for the act itself, I think that part of what makes sex good is who you're with. I mean, I've had some partners that could do things that bent my mind and turned me inside out. I've had partners finish me so hard that I actually was physically sick afterward from the vertigo. I still prefer other people I've been with because I enjoyed their company more- in and out of bed. To me, they were better lovers, because we connected at a different level (something Flash mentioned in his comment on the other post, and I completely agree with). I do think that other things, like whether or not you like screamers, or nails, or tender or whatever...I think that's personal preference and doesn't constitute good or bad. I think that's something you should probably talk about with the person you're with before hand. I mean, if you like a good spanking and it weirds your girlfriend out...well, things might not work out there and you need to resolve that issue before you hit the sheets.
Am I wrong on that one? I mean, how many of you actually talk to your partners before you've gotten into bed with them about the things you like? Obviously I can't pretend that you would cover this with someone who you're having a one night stand with. I mean, pick-ups aside, I would be completly freaked out if someone at a bar was like "Hey, I know we're thinking about leaving together, so I need to know, are you into reverse cowgirl?" But I do think, with most of my partners, the topic of sex, the act, comes up in conversation pretty frequently before we bed each other. Am I unique in this? I don't know. I still think its a good idea.
So, here I am, straddling the fence again. Last post I said sex isn't something holy, it isn't some deep mystical act. I believe that. But I also believe that to have a truly good time, you have to be connected to your partner in some way. You have to be on the same wavelength. Am I a hypocrite? I don't know. I mean, if you take it only to mean you have to love you're partner I suppose I am. And I have to confess, the times I've really, really enjoyed myself, if I tote them all up into like a top five list or something- four of those five? I loved them. But then, that partner I mentioned earlier...we connected and I did not love them. Not in the slightest. But I think we understood each other, and that made all the difference. Because, honestly, I did have a nice time.
What do you think? Do you measure good sex purely based on how good you felt after? Or is it something more?
Let me know. We'll go from there.
AGxx
Anyway. I was glad to see that you're dropping by, and since we're on the subject, and both you and I seem to like it, I figured I would continue it. Sex is an endlessly fascinating subject to me, I could probably blog exclusively about it if I felt like it. I won't I promise, but I could.
The thing I was thinking about the last couple of days is rather convoluted. I was thinking about sensuality and also what constituted good sex. This came about in a rather off kilter sort of way. Part of it was I was rethinking over some of my past conversations with my friends about the topic. The other was I was reminded, as a result of these conversations, of an old lover of mine who accused me once of being "really sensual." I took it as a compliment, but the thing was, out of all my lovers, this would be the one I would least expect it from. It still baffles my mind. Let me explain:
This particular lover of mine was not someone I was in love with. It was a fling. We slept together a few times, off and on. It was never anything serious. This partner was, to be honest, a bit of a jerk and that was part of why I liked them. There were never any pretentions to love or a long term relationship, and as most of you who've known me long will corroborate- I like pig-headed partners if I'm out for a good time. They're more of a challenge and I pride myself on my ability to please even the toughest of comers. (no pun intended)
The reason I was so suprised was because this person was not romantic at all. We weren't romantic, even when we were sleeping together. In fact, this was one of my first experiences where I realized that sex is not something you could take seriously all the time. We'd be sitting on the couch talking politics and all of a sudden I'd discover we were having sex. I mean, yeah, that's why I'd come over, but all the same I was stunned to discover a debate about medicare and social security could work as foreplay. We carried on the conversation while having sex. Some people might say that's terribly boring, or maybe the epitome of geek sex. I don't think it was either of those things. We had a nice time, it felt good, we were both pleased. But my partner didn't see the point in stopping the conversation just because we were into each other.
Given this rather unique situation (one I haven't repeated since then) I was really suprised when I was told by them that they found me "really sensual" and that it came as a bit of a suprise to them. I don't know that love and politics, or any other sort of serious topic, usually go hand in hand. Apparently, though, this time, it worked. I mean, at the time I took the compliment with a puzzled smile and moved on. But thinking about it now- I don't think I was trying to be sensual. I was just enjoying myself. Does that always constitute sensuality? I'm not sure.
I think that I've been with plenty of people who were extremely sensual, but you could tell they were trying to be. I've been with people who just were and it was a part of them. I'm not sure how you would define it. I mean, I think in relation to myself, my "sensuality" as it were is more that I am an extremely tactile person. I like to touch and to be touched. What's the point of sex if you can't enjoy a person completely? I want to feel every part of my partner. I don't think that's sensual, I think that's good sense. I mean...I hate to use the phrase "you've seen one you've seen them all" because that is certainly not the case. But, I do think that there are far less suprises when it comes to the actual sex organs than there is in the rest of the body of the person you're sleeping with. I mean, doesn't everyone enjoy finding the nice spots, the ticklish spots, the places where they have birthmarks, freckles and scars from falling on the playground as a child? Those are the best places. Those are the places that make your partner unique and interesting. Right?
I'm interested, you see, in what you think sensuality is. Maybe its that I have no definition to work from. Maybe its because if I actually set out to be that way, I feel like I'm play acting. Of all things, I think sex should be real. I think the act itself is something that should be natural for both people involved.
Which sort of, kind of, brings me to the second thing milling about in my head. What constitues good sex, and how important is it? If you go back to my post prior, and you think about the first time you sleep with someone, I think there's that moment there where you consider afterwards exactly how that felt for you. I think sometimes that's a determining factor for whether or not you do it again. Not always, but sometimes.
Now, I was debating with someone the other day about whether or not you should dump somebody because the sex is bad. I think that's not ever a good cause, although I think in that there is a root problem that possibly goes deeper. Here's why. My friend argues that if the person is trying, and maybe they aren't experienced, or they're nervous, or whatever and it doesn't go as well as you hoped, you shouldn't be basing your whole relationship solely on that act. There has to be more. I do agree. I think that sometimes it takes partners time to find a good stride. And if you are new to it, or you've been less adventurous that your partner, or you just did things differently with all your other partners- sometimes there's a learning curve. You don't say, "well, that didn't work for me, so we can't date anymore."
I am totally there on that one. BUT I also think that if you've been with your partner for a while and things in the bedroom have never heated up, that's something to be concerned about. Here's why- there's a compatability issue here. Maybe you don't trust your partner (you probably shouldn't be having sex with them). Maybe they're selfish. Or you are. Maybe their kinks are simply too much for you, and you can't handle it and it freaks you out. Okay. I get it. But I think that you put that up to a relationship issue that's been manifesting in the bedroom. Its then, I think, you can probably say "maybe this is not working for us" and move on. But I also think you make it clear, the sex may not be great but its a personality thing that's really killing it. Also, I think if you've been with someone a long time and the sex goes bad...well, that's a problem too, and likely one that has nothing to do with sex.
Anyway, so good sex? Important? Yeah, probably, but I think in a different way then most people would think. I've had partners that I didn't think were as talented or adventurous as others I'd been with. This doesn't mean they were bad, just different. I think you're on a slippery slope when you start comparing partners. And at no time do you ever say "my old partner did this and it really worked for me, try it." That's a killer there. I mean, yeah, if you like a certain technique, teach your partner and see if it still works for you. But, for god's sake, don't mention your ex, because that puts other people in the bedroom with you and is a can of worms you probably don't want to open. I'm just saying...
As for the act itself, I think that part of what makes sex good is who you're with. I mean, I've had some partners that could do things that bent my mind and turned me inside out. I've had partners finish me so hard that I actually was physically sick afterward from the vertigo. I still prefer other people I've been with because I enjoyed their company more- in and out of bed. To me, they were better lovers, because we connected at a different level (something Flash mentioned in his comment on the other post, and I completely agree with). I do think that other things, like whether or not you like screamers, or nails, or tender or whatever...I think that's personal preference and doesn't constitute good or bad. I think that's something you should probably talk about with the person you're with before hand. I mean, if you like a good spanking and it weirds your girlfriend out...well, things might not work out there and you need to resolve that issue before you hit the sheets.
Am I wrong on that one? I mean, how many of you actually talk to your partners before you've gotten into bed with them about the things you like? Obviously I can't pretend that you would cover this with someone who you're having a one night stand with. I mean, pick-ups aside, I would be completly freaked out if someone at a bar was like "Hey, I know we're thinking about leaving together, so I need to know, are you into reverse cowgirl?" But I do think, with most of my partners, the topic of sex, the act, comes up in conversation pretty frequently before we bed each other. Am I unique in this? I don't know. I still think its a good idea.
So, here I am, straddling the fence again. Last post I said sex isn't something holy, it isn't some deep mystical act. I believe that. But I also believe that to have a truly good time, you have to be connected to your partner in some way. You have to be on the same wavelength. Am I a hypocrite? I don't know. I mean, if you take it only to mean you have to love you're partner I suppose I am. And I have to confess, the times I've really, really enjoyed myself, if I tote them all up into like a top five list or something- four of those five? I loved them. But then, that partner I mentioned earlier...we connected and I did not love them. Not in the slightest. But I think we understood each other, and that made all the difference. Because, honestly, I did have a nice time.
What do you think? Do you measure good sex purely based on how good you felt after? Or is it something more?
Let me know. We'll go from there.
AGxx
Monday, January 16, 2012
I Want to Feel You From the Inside
Right. Now that I've gotten my "sentimental drivel" out of the way, I actually have something to talk about.
First, I need to mention that we went to dinner with Kitten's mom tonight. This week is Kitten's birthday and her mom is going to be out of town, so we went to dinner with her tonight so we could share it with her. We went to our favorite local hibachi restaurant. Her mom hadn't had it in a long time, and I love Japaneese, so it was a win all around.
I'd like to say this, I think Kitten is really lucky because her mom is always proud to be seen out with us. She is always happy to tell people we're her daughters. I ran into an old schoolmate tonight and we got to talking over the table. I am sincerely delighted, because we were talking about Kitten and I's honeymoon and her mom totally took it in stride. She didn't look embarassed or ashamed. She just smiled. It made me happy, because a lot of parents wouldn't be okay with it. A lot wouldn't think that the honeymoon of her lesbian daughter was appropriate dinner conversation. Mom has no problem with it. I love that. She spoke to me earlier in the evening about "when" I meet her sister I should ask her about certain things when Kitten was growing up. She spoke of it as a certainty, like she knew I would meet her one day (she lives on the other side of the country, which I suppose is why we haven't met before now) She didn't say "if" or "maybe" and implied that her sister knows about our relationship and has no problem with it. It made me feel really good.
Anyway.
So before mom arrived we were there early because I didn't have to work as late today as I normally do. It was quiet. So we got to the restaurant and made our way to the bar to have a cocktail and chat with the bartender, who knows us pretty well. Before you go thinking we're heavy drinkers- I'm allergic to seafood, so I always ask for a specific chef. He's never had an accident or cross contaminated my food. I know I'm safe to eat with him. The result is sometimes on busy nights we sit at the bar quite a while waiting for his turn in rotation. So the bartenders see a lot of us, whether we drink or not.
Cocktail conversation this evening was inspired by a friend of mine who mentioned one of his guy friends went out with a girl a couple of times and then slept with her. Afterwards he decided that he didn't like her all that well because she was willing to sleep with him on the second date. My friend pointed out to him that he would have dumped her if she'd made him wait six months, and he agreed that was probably true.
So...what's the magic number? At what point is it "okay" to start having sex with the person you're seeing? That was our big debate tonight. I think we were slightly divided in some ways, but it ends up equating to the same thing when you work it out. I think.
We decided it depends on what the situation is. If you're out looking for a good time, of course you're probably not going to wait as long. That's natural. If I were to go out trolling for women (forgive the expression) then I don't need to wait three or four dates to sleep with her. That's why I'm picking her up, right? Time frame shortens (for me) to long enough to ascertain she is disease free and regularly gets tested for AIDS and uses protection.
Now, if I'm in a relationship its a whole new ball game. If I am dating you because I like you as a person and I want to be in a long term relationship with you, the waiting period is longer.
Have I had sex on a first date? Yes. Did the relationship pan out? Hell no. Here's why: in the end, that was actually more likely part of the first catagory. We're all been there right? Here's my friend, acquaintance, whatever. We've talked, we're cool, and they're pretty good looking. You go out, you end up in bed. Turns out it was a fling and you were really more interested in the sex. Sometimes you go back to being friends, sometimes, alas, you don't. The end.
There are, however, those special circumstances where you know this person is special. You want to be with this person. For a long time, or at least a fairly good period of time. This is where the numbers get tricky. Kitten is of the opinion that between 4-7 dates is appropriate depending on the person. I agree, to a point. For example, in our relationship, we waited quite some time. The second time around. This current relationship. the first time I think we may have hit the 4 date mark, if you count meeting up at the bar and dancing all night a date. But this time around we waited for what seemed like an aeon before we did. Now, I was in a unique postition, given the relationship prior to her, but suffice to say when the time did come, I was more than ready.
Now, here's where she and I rather diverge in viewpoints. See, for me, I don't think you can put a time period on it. I think there's probably an average. I think its even likely it falls in the 4-7 date range. But for me, its a feeling. My view is you wait until you can't possibly wait any longer, you're about to freak out, your genitals may actually pack up and leave town in mutiny if something doesn't happen soon.
Maybe I'm a massochist. Maybe its just my thing. Maybe I'm old fashioned. For me, though, I think there should be a kiss goodnight kind of night. I think there should be some making out. I think that should progress to some heavy petting with expressions of wanting more. I think that may or may not involve oral sex, given the relationship and the people in it. I think said oral sex probably comes next. But after that- that's the time. You've stopped, and stopped and dithered about respecting each other and how much you care and how the relationship might be affected. That's when it happens, if it ever does. That's the time you have sex. When you think you can't take another second of how beautiful your potential partner is. When the thought of not being with them is totally and completely intolerable and possibly a risk to your sanity. THAT'S when you have sex.
Of course, if you're as impatient as me, this could happen before date four. Or, if this person falls into the type of person catagory one is. You've known them forever, you've been friends a long time, you're ready to take it to the next level and that first or second date was so amazing you can't wait to please them in bed, yeah, you might have sex on date two or three. Is it rare that works out? Probably, I don't have any hard numbers, but I'm betting so.
Even then, I think it does come down to the relationship itself. I'm convinced that if I had slept with Kitten the night I ran back into her, we would still be married and happy and together. But then, I know we were made for each other.
But I think circumstance can make all the difference. Take Perpet, for example. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I've slept with my BFF. I'm pretty sure if I haven't she won't care (you don't do you, darling? :)) She and I had known each other for almost 5 years before we slept together. Did it take us that long to discover we wanted to sleep together? Hell no. I knew I thought she was attractive about ten minutes into meeting her. I knew she'd be a good time before the first month we were official besties was out. But it wasn't time.
(Actually, an aside, mostly addressed to her: you know, I was thinking that we should have signed the walls of all the bar bathrooms we made out in, because I'm pretty sure that most of the bars downtown would have our signatures on them by now...)
Anyway, point is, we were way into our relationship before we did, and it actually happened after she got married. Thank god and goddess for the poor Boy, who finally broke down at a bar one night and told us he was going to go nuts if we didn't get it over with once and for all. We did. That night. Honestly, I'm glad for it. I don't know if we would have ever gotten to it if he hadn't said soemthing because by that time I think we were so accustomed to our attraction to each other it almost didnt register anymore. It wasn't like "Gosh, Perpet looks hot and I love her so much, I ought to see about sleeping with her." Ever.
Fortunately for me we did and it was nice and we don't have to do it again if we don't want to. We know, and we still love each other, and nothing changed except now I've slept with my best friend. And she's still my best friend. I'm fortunate she's that cool. I've seen it go the other way. Rogue is a great example of that, though we never really had sex. Not in the technical sense anyway.
Point is, and I know I digress, I think timing has a lot less to do with actual timing and a lot more to do with how you feel about a person and the way you view them. And what kind of person you are.
Oh- I suppose the other thing I ought to mention, and you can see it is almost an afterthought- is the idea that you shouldn't have sex with your partner until you're married. Obviously, I am not a fan of this idea. In part because I like sex. But also because I think you set yourself up for disappointment sometimes when you do that. I think you make sex into something it shouldn't be. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think sex is special and the person you're with should be special. I'm not a fan of one night stands. I like to know the name and birthday of the person I'm bedding. I think sex can be beautiful and intimate and wonderful. But I also think that, like the timing, that kind of sex is entirely dependent on the person you're with. Sex, to me, isn't a reward. Its not a holy act. Its not something you expect and its definately not something that should be a sacrifice for you. Sex, in the end, is sex. It can be fun, it can be silly-and sometimes that makes it awesome- it can be serious and it can be beautiful. But in the end, its a form of pleasure, and its something you do to show the person you're with that they are as beautiful as their company makes you feel. I think when you wait until marriage, especially if you aren't a virgin and you've decided to wait, you run the risk of setting yourself up for disappointment. And you're partner. It works for some people, but I'm happy it wasn't something I did, because I would have missed out on a lot of special moments in my life if I had.
So, I'm really interested to see what everyone thinks about this one, because I find the whole idea fascinating. You're opinion would be appreciated, because frankly, I like to know what you think about things like this, even if they are really trivial things in the grand scheme of it all.
AGxx
First, I need to mention that we went to dinner with Kitten's mom tonight. This week is Kitten's birthday and her mom is going to be out of town, so we went to dinner with her tonight so we could share it with her. We went to our favorite local hibachi restaurant. Her mom hadn't had it in a long time, and I love Japaneese, so it was a win all around.
I'd like to say this, I think Kitten is really lucky because her mom is always proud to be seen out with us. She is always happy to tell people we're her daughters. I ran into an old schoolmate tonight and we got to talking over the table. I am sincerely delighted, because we were talking about Kitten and I's honeymoon and her mom totally took it in stride. She didn't look embarassed or ashamed. She just smiled. It made me happy, because a lot of parents wouldn't be okay with it. A lot wouldn't think that the honeymoon of her lesbian daughter was appropriate dinner conversation. Mom has no problem with it. I love that. She spoke to me earlier in the evening about "when" I meet her sister I should ask her about certain things when Kitten was growing up. She spoke of it as a certainty, like she knew I would meet her one day (she lives on the other side of the country, which I suppose is why we haven't met before now) She didn't say "if" or "maybe" and implied that her sister knows about our relationship and has no problem with it. It made me feel really good.
Anyway.
So before mom arrived we were there early because I didn't have to work as late today as I normally do. It was quiet. So we got to the restaurant and made our way to the bar to have a cocktail and chat with the bartender, who knows us pretty well. Before you go thinking we're heavy drinkers- I'm allergic to seafood, so I always ask for a specific chef. He's never had an accident or cross contaminated my food. I know I'm safe to eat with him. The result is sometimes on busy nights we sit at the bar quite a while waiting for his turn in rotation. So the bartenders see a lot of us, whether we drink or not.
Cocktail conversation this evening was inspired by a friend of mine who mentioned one of his guy friends went out with a girl a couple of times and then slept with her. Afterwards he decided that he didn't like her all that well because she was willing to sleep with him on the second date. My friend pointed out to him that he would have dumped her if she'd made him wait six months, and he agreed that was probably true.
So...what's the magic number? At what point is it "okay" to start having sex with the person you're seeing? That was our big debate tonight. I think we were slightly divided in some ways, but it ends up equating to the same thing when you work it out. I think.
We decided it depends on what the situation is. If you're out looking for a good time, of course you're probably not going to wait as long. That's natural. If I were to go out trolling for women (forgive the expression) then I don't need to wait three or four dates to sleep with her. That's why I'm picking her up, right? Time frame shortens (for me) to long enough to ascertain she is disease free and regularly gets tested for AIDS and uses protection.
Now, if I'm in a relationship its a whole new ball game. If I am dating you because I like you as a person and I want to be in a long term relationship with you, the waiting period is longer.
Have I had sex on a first date? Yes. Did the relationship pan out? Hell no. Here's why: in the end, that was actually more likely part of the first catagory. We're all been there right? Here's my friend, acquaintance, whatever. We've talked, we're cool, and they're pretty good looking. You go out, you end up in bed. Turns out it was a fling and you were really more interested in the sex. Sometimes you go back to being friends, sometimes, alas, you don't. The end.
There are, however, those special circumstances where you know this person is special. You want to be with this person. For a long time, or at least a fairly good period of time. This is where the numbers get tricky. Kitten is of the opinion that between 4-7 dates is appropriate depending on the person. I agree, to a point. For example, in our relationship, we waited quite some time. The second time around. This current relationship. the first time I think we may have hit the 4 date mark, if you count meeting up at the bar and dancing all night a date. But this time around we waited for what seemed like an aeon before we did. Now, I was in a unique postition, given the relationship prior to her, but suffice to say when the time did come, I was more than ready.
Now, here's where she and I rather diverge in viewpoints. See, for me, I don't think you can put a time period on it. I think there's probably an average. I think its even likely it falls in the 4-7 date range. But for me, its a feeling. My view is you wait until you can't possibly wait any longer, you're about to freak out, your genitals may actually pack up and leave town in mutiny if something doesn't happen soon.
Maybe I'm a massochist. Maybe its just my thing. Maybe I'm old fashioned. For me, though, I think there should be a kiss goodnight kind of night. I think there should be some making out. I think that should progress to some heavy petting with expressions of wanting more. I think that may or may not involve oral sex, given the relationship and the people in it. I think said oral sex probably comes next. But after that- that's the time. You've stopped, and stopped and dithered about respecting each other and how much you care and how the relationship might be affected. That's when it happens, if it ever does. That's the time you have sex. When you think you can't take another second of how beautiful your potential partner is. When the thought of not being with them is totally and completely intolerable and possibly a risk to your sanity. THAT'S when you have sex.
Of course, if you're as impatient as me, this could happen before date four. Or, if this person falls into the type of person catagory one is. You've known them forever, you've been friends a long time, you're ready to take it to the next level and that first or second date was so amazing you can't wait to please them in bed, yeah, you might have sex on date two or three. Is it rare that works out? Probably, I don't have any hard numbers, but I'm betting so.
Even then, I think it does come down to the relationship itself. I'm convinced that if I had slept with Kitten the night I ran back into her, we would still be married and happy and together. But then, I know we were made for each other.
But I think circumstance can make all the difference. Take Perpet, for example. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I've slept with my BFF. I'm pretty sure if I haven't she won't care (you don't do you, darling? :)) She and I had known each other for almost 5 years before we slept together. Did it take us that long to discover we wanted to sleep together? Hell no. I knew I thought she was attractive about ten minutes into meeting her. I knew she'd be a good time before the first month we were official besties was out. But it wasn't time.
(Actually, an aside, mostly addressed to her: you know, I was thinking that we should have signed the walls of all the bar bathrooms we made out in, because I'm pretty sure that most of the bars downtown would have our signatures on them by now...)
Anyway, point is, we were way into our relationship before we did, and it actually happened after she got married. Thank god and goddess for the poor Boy, who finally broke down at a bar one night and told us he was going to go nuts if we didn't get it over with once and for all. We did. That night. Honestly, I'm glad for it. I don't know if we would have ever gotten to it if he hadn't said soemthing because by that time I think we were so accustomed to our attraction to each other it almost didnt register anymore. It wasn't like "Gosh, Perpet looks hot and I love her so much, I ought to see about sleeping with her." Ever.
Fortunately for me we did and it was nice and we don't have to do it again if we don't want to. We know, and we still love each other, and nothing changed except now I've slept with my best friend. And she's still my best friend. I'm fortunate she's that cool. I've seen it go the other way. Rogue is a great example of that, though we never really had sex. Not in the technical sense anyway.
Point is, and I know I digress, I think timing has a lot less to do with actual timing and a lot more to do with how you feel about a person and the way you view them. And what kind of person you are.
Oh- I suppose the other thing I ought to mention, and you can see it is almost an afterthought- is the idea that you shouldn't have sex with your partner until you're married. Obviously, I am not a fan of this idea. In part because I like sex. But also because I think you set yourself up for disappointment sometimes when you do that. I think you make sex into something it shouldn't be. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think sex is special and the person you're with should be special. I'm not a fan of one night stands. I like to know the name and birthday of the person I'm bedding. I think sex can be beautiful and intimate and wonderful. But I also think that, like the timing, that kind of sex is entirely dependent on the person you're with. Sex, to me, isn't a reward. Its not a holy act. Its not something you expect and its definately not something that should be a sacrifice for you. Sex, in the end, is sex. It can be fun, it can be silly-and sometimes that makes it awesome- it can be serious and it can be beautiful. But in the end, its a form of pleasure, and its something you do to show the person you're with that they are as beautiful as their company makes you feel. I think when you wait until marriage, especially if you aren't a virgin and you've decided to wait, you run the risk of setting yourself up for disappointment. And you're partner. It works for some people, but I'm happy it wasn't something I did, because I would have missed out on a lot of special moments in my life if I had.
So, I'm really interested to see what everyone thinks about this one, because I find the whole idea fascinating. You're opinion would be appreciated, because frankly, I like to know what you think about things like this, even if they are really trivial things in the grand scheme of it all.
AGxx
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Drinking the Dawn
The sun was being born, brilliant and startling and I was in your arms. I was being remade, strange and trembling as I felt you all around me. And there, in that moment, I felt my pulse like I never had before. It beat in my lips and against my chest in a frightening display of rebellion and ecstasy. I could feel the room flashing about me as my eyelids fluttered and I was undone.
The room spun, and it took you with me- tumbling over again and again as I learned myself from the tips of your lips. I took each lesson, a long drink at your mouth, and found I was drunk on the feeling of you knowing who I am. I could see it in your eyes and the flash of your teeth as you smiled down on me and tore through me with speed and accuracy.
I find myself wondering idly what you saw in my eyes in that moment.
I could tilt my head back and beyond the brilliance of the sun, and the spinning, and the light that danced up from out of my mouth and into yours; I could look up and see the dust in the sky, the shadows of each planet and the stars hiding their faces. The heat of that moment was too much for them to bear. I felt their pulse too, and only in fleeting moments can I remember it without the pain they surely felt at seeing us together.
That moment, with you, I could feel the earth open up and wrap itself around me, just as you had. I could feel my hands and my feet and my nails and my hair being bound up in it, tight- so tight that I almost stopped completely. I can hear now that soft escaping sigh, the release so quiet I could hardly confess it, and I remember the feeling of the earth, your skin, coming up soft and sweet smelling between my fingernails.
I remember like the wind, the way my hair fell, tangled and confused as you took me over. Soft, tossed, like silk spun in secret at twilight it carried its own whisper. Never stop. Never go. This is too much, and enough and I am so soon empty and aching for more of what I've lost. Gather me up, hold me tight, braid me into a tale of sweetness and perfection I cannot believe but must.
There's a soft velvet purring in my chest. The sun rises higher in the sky. I close my eyes, I wait for dark. I wait for you. There is nothing but this moment, my memory, my heartbeat and the hope of another dawn with you.
AGxx
Postscript-
As you can see, I sat down to write a normal post and nonsense came out instead. My apologies. I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled redundancy as soon as possible.
Does anyone have any topic suggestions?
The room spun, and it took you with me- tumbling over again and again as I learned myself from the tips of your lips. I took each lesson, a long drink at your mouth, and found I was drunk on the feeling of you knowing who I am. I could see it in your eyes and the flash of your teeth as you smiled down on me and tore through me with speed and accuracy.
I find myself wondering idly what you saw in my eyes in that moment.
I could tilt my head back and beyond the brilliance of the sun, and the spinning, and the light that danced up from out of my mouth and into yours; I could look up and see the dust in the sky, the shadows of each planet and the stars hiding their faces. The heat of that moment was too much for them to bear. I felt their pulse too, and only in fleeting moments can I remember it without the pain they surely felt at seeing us together.
That moment, with you, I could feel the earth open up and wrap itself around me, just as you had. I could feel my hands and my feet and my nails and my hair being bound up in it, tight- so tight that I almost stopped completely. I can hear now that soft escaping sigh, the release so quiet I could hardly confess it, and I remember the feeling of the earth, your skin, coming up soft and sweet smelling between my fingernails.
I remember like the wind, the way my hair fell, tangled and confused as you took me over. Soft, tossed, like silk spun in secret at twilight it carried its own whisper. Never stop. Never go. This is too much, and enough and I am so soon empty and aching for more of what I've lost. Gather me up, hold me tight, braid me into a tale of sweetness and perfection I cannot believe but must.
There's a soft velvet purring in my chest. The sun rises higher in the sky. I close my eyes, I wait for dark. I wait for you. There is nothing but this moment, my memory, my heartbeat and the hope of another dawn with you.
AGxx
Postscript-
As you can see, I sat down to write a normal post and nonsense came out instead. My apologies. I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled redundancy as soon as possible.
Does anyone have any topic suggestions?
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Love Letter
You fill up my mind.
I lose my eyes and you are there. Its like you wait for me. Every time I blink I see you, and it reminds me of how much I love you. It reminds me that no matter what, you are a part of me that I can't escape. At night I lie in bed and the sound of your voice echoes through my mind. I can hear you whispering softly to me, all the loving words you have ever spoken. They play continually- a soft romantic ballad written only for me.
It only takes a moment, but if I lie still, I can feel your touch. I feel the soft caress of your hands all over me. Second by decond you become more real, and I know the scratch of your nails on my body, the whisper of your fingertips against my face and lips. I sigh, and I reach out to the feeling that only you seem to give me. My heart flutters, my lips become softer and every other part of me becomes harder -strained- as your phantom touch rolls over me. I wait for the release, I wait for the moment you let me go. But you are there, even as I sleep. You are there, walking through my dreams, holding my hand, talking to me, making me smile. You never leave me, not for a moment.
I don't mind my bondage to you. Its a willing, eager servitude, and the chains you bind me with are soft as silk. They free me as much as they entrap, and I love the way I give myself over wholly to you. I revel in the feeling of being yours. Its beautiful. I'm beautiful- if only for you.
You know me- I want to escape sometimes. I want to get away from everything real. I want to create a world for myself and linger there as time ticks slowly by. The sounds of reality might rush past me- the movements required of me I still preform. But I am not there, I am somewhere else. I'm so glad, because you are there with me.
It takes only a moment, a heartbeat, and you are there. You stretch out your hand to me, ask me to come with you, and I can walk away. Everything else melts, there comes a soft, hazy shimmer, and suddenly I am living in two worlds. There is only me, in this second world, with you. There is a field full of tall grasses and wildflowers and we walk through it together. I can feel the weight of your hand in mine, the warmth of your touch, and I need nothing else.
But you give it to me, you always give me more. There is more than your touch, and your smile. There is your voice, rich and warm, telling me sweet things. Telling me interesting things to keep me from being afraid, or worried, or bored. It flows like honey and I drink it in, savorng the taste of your words. There is your playfullness, as you draw me through this world of ours- one that neither of us would share with anyone else. You and I, we understand the place we are in. No one else would, so we don't speak of it.
The most beautiful thing, to me, though, is I know that you feel it too. I can hear it when I truly speak to you. I can see it when I look in your eyes. I can touch it on your skin. I can taste it in your kiss. I am to you what you are to me. You know our secret world, because I guide you through it the way you do me. I can see the grass swaying in your eyes. I can hear the sound of our laughter in your tone. I am your heartbeat. You are mine. Each breath, each second, belongs to us.
I love you.
AGxx
I lose my eyes and you are there. Its like you wait for me. Every time I blink I see you, and it reminds me of how much I love you. It reminds me that no matter what, you are a part of me that I can't escape. At night I lie in bed and the sound of your voice echoes through my mind. I can hear you whispering softly to me, all the loving words you have ever spoken. They play continually- a soft romantic ballad written only for me.
It only takes a moment, but if I lie still, I can feel your touch. I feel the soft caress of your hands all over me. Second by decond you become more real, and I know the scratch of your nails on my body, the whisper of your fingertips against my face and lips. I sigh, and I reach out to the feeling that only you seem to give me. My heart flutters, my lips become softer and every other part of me becomes harder -strained- as your phantom touch rolls over me. I wait for the release, I wait for the moment you let me go. But you are there, even as I sleep. You are there, walking through my dreams, holding my hand, talking to me, making me smile. You never leave me, not for a moment.
I don't mind my bondage to you. Its a willing, eager servitude, and the chains you bind me with are soft as silk. They free me as much as they entrap, and I love the way I give myself over wholly to you. I revel in the feeling of being yours. Its beautiful. I'm beautiful- if only for you.
You know me- I want to escape sometimes. I want to get away from everything real. I want to create a world for myself and linger there as time ticks slowly by. The sounds of reality might rush past me- the movements required of me I still preform. But I am not there, I am somewhere else. I'm so glad, because you are there with me.
It takes only a moment, a heartbeat, and you are there. You stretch out your hand to me, ask me to come with you, and I can walk away. Everything else melts, there comes a soft, hazy shimmer, and suddenly I am living in two worlds. There is only me, in this second world, with you. There is a field full of tall grasses and wildflowers and we walk through it together. I can feel the weight of your hand in mine, the warmth of your touch, and I need nothing else.
But you give it to me, you always give me more. There is more than your touch, and your smile. There is your voice, rich and warm, telling me sweet things. Telling me interesting things to keep me from being afraid, or worried, or bored. It flows like honey and I drink it in, savorng the taste of your words. There is your playfullness, as you draw me through this world of ours- one that neither of us would share with anyone else. You and I, we understand the place we are in. No one else would, so we don't speak of it.
The most beautiful thing, to me, though, is I know that you feel it too. I can hear it when I truly speak to you. I can see it when I look in your eyes. I can touch it on your skin. I can taste it in your kiss. I am to you what you are to me. You know our secret world, because I guide you through it the way you do me. I can see the grass swaying in your eyes. I can hear the sound of our laughter in your tone. I am your heartbeat. You are mine. Each breath, each second, belongs to us.
I love you.
AGxx
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Press Me
There has to be more.
Tonight I want more. Tonight, as I stare out the window at the clouds rolling across the moon, I pray that there is more. A terrible empty feeling is welling up inside me. I cannot escape it- just as I cannot escape you.
I can feel you more than I can see you. I know you are there, standing over me, just beside my bed. I can sense the power rolling off your body in waves, drowning me, pulling me further down. The strength of you body does not have to be seen tonight. I can sense it as I watch the clouds, the stars and the moon. I can feel it as I lay here and wish for more.
Tonight I want you to tear me apart.
It seems to me there is more in that than there is in anything. I want to feel more than I do now. I want to feel more than the hollow, echoing ring of my own pain. There is a waterfall inside me and I have run it dry for too long. I have let the tears fall, let them slip down inside me and fill me up and then waste away for as long as I can think of. I want to feel something else.
Come and kiss me. I can feel you, kneeling on the bed over me. It has a weight to it that I never remember feeling before. Slip your mouth over mine and stifle the cries that threaten to rip up out of me and break the silence of the night.
Just like that. See? That's perfect. The hard, almost cold pressure of your mouth is overwhelming me. Calming me. Bringing me an odd sense of peace as I drift away into you. The feeling of your body on mine is comforting. I let go. I can feel myself now in you. I can taste the rise of the heat between us. I can feel the pressure of all the things we will never say. It threatens me, and I love it.
Your nails raking down my back are ecstasy. My skin, tearing beneath your onslaught, is better this way than ever it was whole. I feel myself in a completely new way as you lift me, turn me, make me yours. The taste of cotton on my tongue is sweet. The sheen of sweat you bring to the surface better than any dampness my body finds in its long, lonely wanderings.
Press me, push me, take me further than I have ever been. I can see you are wanting to lead me down a path of pain and pleasure. You see that I walk it willingly with you. My hands belong to you. You make them your own as you use them. My mouth is yours completely. I scarcely recall breathing as you fill me over and over. I remember no taste but that of you and me, of my pleasure on your fingers, of your passion on my tongue. Give me your mouth. Share it with me over and over. Your teeth are gleaming ivory knives. I want to feel the tiny cut, the sweet peicings as you consume me. Send me up in flames for you. Let me show you all that I can be when you make me.
Tonight your violence is something I crave. It is beautiful, terrible and perfect at once. The terror and emptiness that was sweeping like a wind through me is gone. You have come to shake me free of it. I can match you tonight. I can fight you with all there is in me. I find there is more, there was more, than I expected. I find with you at the bottom of the well inside me a fire burns and you have stoked the flames. They lick up inside, burning me in my stomach and my throat. My fingertips become matches and I can touch the tinderbox of your love.
There is nothing gentle about you. There is nothing tender and sweet. I am so thankful. I am so happy. The power of your body propels me on. The force of you is more than I can bear, and I want to fight it. I want you to feel me too. I want you to know that though I am conquered I am not servile. Though I am below you I am not submissive. I can see the light in your eyes and I know that I am the one that set them ablaze.
The closeness of your hands on my wrists, your mouth hard at my neck, your legs trapping me- all of these things make me want to fight you, to make you work harder to take me. They make me want to push you to the edge. Tonight, you will want me more than you have before. I will press you, pull you, drive you to the edge of reason. You will feel it with me- the echo, the longing, the sense of despair as I pull you deeper into me. When I weep it will be your mouth that drinks my tears. It will be the sweetness of your kiss that wipes away all that I have felt, leaving me with a sense of peace and contenment.
You will drown in who I am tonight, and we will both wake more alive.
Take me tonight. Tear me up. Let me have you too.
Tonight I want more. Tonight, as I stare out the window at the clouds rolling across the moon, I pray that there is more. A terrible empty feeling is welling up inside me. I cannot escape it- just as I cannot escape you.
I can feel you more than I can see you. I know you are there, standing over me, just beside my bed. I can sense the power rolling off your body in waves, drowning me, pulling me further down. The strength of you body does not have to be seen tonight. I can sense it as I watch the clouds, the stars and the moon. I can feel it as I lay here and wish for more.
Tonight I want you to tear me apart.
It seems to me there is more in that than there is in anything. I want to feel more than I do now. I want to feel more than the hollow, echoing ring of my own pain. There is a waterfall inside me and I have run it dry for too long. I have let the tears fall, let them slip down inside me and fill me up and then waste away for as long as I can think of. I want to feel something else.
Come and kiss me. I can feel you, kneeling on the bed over me. It has a weight to it that I never remember feeling before. Slip your mouth over mine and stifle the cries that threaten to rip up out of me and break the silence of the night.
Just like that. See? That's perfect. The hard, almost cold pressure of your mouth is overwhelming me. Calming me. Bringing me an odd sense of peace as I drift away into you. The feeling of your body on mine is comforting. I let go. I can feel myself now in you. I can taste the rise of the heat between us. I can feel the pressure of all the things we will never say. It threatens me, and I love it.
Your nails raking down my back are ecstasy. My skin, tearing beneath your onslaught, is better this way than ever it was whole. I feel myself in a completely new way as you lift me, turn me, make me yours. The taste of cotton on my tongue is sweet. The sheen of sweat you bring to the surface better than any dampness my body finds in its long, lonely wanderings.
Press me, push me, take me further than I have ever been. I can see you are wanting to lead me down a path of pain and pleasure. You see that I walk it willingly with you. My hands belong to you. You make them your own as you use them. My mouth is yours completely. I scarcely recall breathing as you fill me over and over. I remember no taste but that of you and me, of my pleasure on your fingers, of your passion on my tongue. Give me your mouth. Share it with me over and over. Your teeth are gleaming ivory knives. I want to feel the tiny cut, the sweet peicings as you consume me. Send me up in flames for you. Let me show you all that I can be when you make me.
Tonight your violence is something I crave. It is beautiful, terrible and perfect at once. The terror and emptiness that was sweeping like a wind through me is gone. You have come to shake me free of it. I can match you tonight. I can fight you with all there is in me. I find there is more, there was more, than I expected. I find with you at the bottom of the well inside me a fire burns and you have stoked the flames. They lick up inside, burning me in my stomach and my throat. My fingertips become matches and I can touch the tinderbox of your love.
There is nothing gentle about you. There is nothing tender and sweet. I am so thankful. I am so happy. The power of your body propels me on. The force of you is more than I can bear, and I want to fight it. I want you to feel me too. I want you to know that though I am conquered I am not servile. Though I am below you I am not submissive. I can see the light in your eyes and I know that I am the one that set them ablaze.
The closeness of your hands on my wrists, your mouth hard at my neck, your legs trapping me- all of these things make me want to fight you, to make you work harder to take me. They make me want to push you to the edge. Tonight, you will want me more than you have before. I will press you, pull you, drive you to the edge of reason. You will feel it with me- the echo, the longing, the sense of despair as I pull you deeper into me. When I weep it will be your mouth that drinks my tears. It will be the sweetness of your kiss that wipes away all that I have felt, leaving me with a sense of peace and contenment.
You will drown in who I am tonight, and we will both wake more alive.
Take me tonight. Tear me up. Let me have you too.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Posing
Adult content. Again. Enjoy.
*****************
Leaning over the railing of the red brick balcony, I can see people wandering about on the deck below. The concrete tickles me with the sand coming loose against my arms. Conversations, the smell of alcohol and smoke, and a small bit of longing drift up at me from below. I idly play with a lock of my hair, which falls down over my shoulders as I secretly, silently watch the movements of the people below. I feel a bit like a vouyer as I listen, un-biddem, to people talking. I am a goddess, peeking overfr the edge of heaven; I'm interested- but not enough to go down.
She creeps up behind me, silently stalking me like a cat; just as quietly watching me, as I am watching the people below. Without thinking I lean back against her chest, settling into her as she warps her arms around my waist, hooking her fingers together over the top band of my underwear.
"They're fun to watch, aren't they," she asks me, in the half-gentle, half-mocking tone she always uses when making conversation with me.
"They are. It must be great fun for you, to live above a bar."
"Sometimes." She pulls me closer, back up against her chest, tightening her grip around my waist, as her lips brush my hair away from my shoulders. She smells like allspice, cinnamon and vanilla. Her scent drifts across my back with each of her tender but detached kisses.
As she works across my back I light a cigarette and breathe the smell of nicotine mixed with the smell of her. I let the feeling of the cigarette rush over me, making me light headed. I press my hips against the brick railing, the sandiness working its way through the sheer robe over my shoulders. Her hands shift higher to rest somewhere between my hips and my shoulders, laying on the rail next to my arms.
The feeling is strange, being pressed between the wall and her body- somewhere between the sky and the patio below, where the people are still talking and laughing. They are unaware; unaware of she and I looking down on them, our smoke, our cares, our passions. Held there, completely unnoticed, pinned by her hips and feeling light-headed, all of this makes me feel oddly free.
"Are you ready." She asks, mocking, gentle, curious.
"I am."
I turn to go inside and take in the giant french foors- wide open and waiting. Inside my feet sink down into the thick white rug. A giant bed is waiting for me, anticipating me, covered in white, pillows and tassles. The warm breeze chases me in, tickling the backs of my calves with silky sheet curtains. They kiss me like tiny butterflies, floating gently off course, whispering to me. Sunlight pours in, giving everything an unearthly glow. It makes me feel unreal. I tell her so.
"I don't feel real. I feel like something else."
Her black eyes roam my body as I slip off my robe. She smiles at me with an odd look in her eyes- somewhere between guarded admiration and envy.
"You're not real. not today love. You are perfection. You are mystery. You are need. Do you believe that?"
"No, not really."
She moves behind her camera in the corner, checking her film and the lenses. "Shall I convince you?"
"Please do so, if you can." I know she can, I think to myself. She could make me feel like time itself if she wished me to.
She leaves the room for a moment, and when she returns she comes quite close to me, and offers me a small glass filled with soft green liquid. I can feel my breath catch as she slips her other arm arounf my waist and strokes my back as I toss back her offering. When I finish I follow a trail of stars behind her hand, which she lowers to a drawer on the bedside table. She sets the glass down and I lick my lips, tasting licorice, sugar and heat.
I breifly close my eyes and inhale, and when I open them I see her dark eyes boring into mine. Her lips begin to pres against me, her tongue slipping into my mouth, and the peices of holding my thoughts together begin to loosen. I sigh, wrapping my arms around her neck, and I close my eyes again- letting the feeling of her tongue tracing over my lips, teeth and mouth take me away.
She leads me to the bed, lifiting my legs, shifting my hair to one side and petting my face. Laying onmy back, I feel her running her long, smooth, too-perfect fingers over my bra, down my stomach, to the top of my thong. I shift my thighs, open my lips and anticipate.
In my ear, she whispers to me, "Hold still now, darling. This, you- are perfect."
I open my eyes again and she's looking at me from behind the camera. I can see, though, the look she gives me. She looks as though she can barely keep from coming back over to me.
The camera clicks.
I think of her mouth and sigh. My back arches slightly. I hear her.
"Beautiful, darling."
The camera clicks again.
She comes back. I blink, once. Twice. She straddles me, playing with my hair, teasing my neck with the tips of her fingers and her soft, sweet smelling breath. She truns me on my side and kisses my back with those soft, detached kisses she gave me before on the porch. Her jeans and white t-shirt press against my skin. The feeling of her so close makes me crazy.
Inside, I can feel my stomach turning over. I struggle to maintain my composure as I feel my body become wet, warm under her touch. The fluttering feeling in my stomach won't calm, won't stop. My heart races as her hands move up and down my back. I try to focus, turning my face into the blankets, breathing in the scent of them. But she's tehre too, they smell like her- allspice, cinnamon and vanilla.
Just as I feel like I have myself under control she unsnaps the back of my bra and pulls it off. My will snaps, and I am sure that she can hear it echoing around the room. I act without thinking, doing what I had never dared to do before; I flip onto my back and try to trap her with my legs. I reach out for her, but she is fast, so fast. Too quick for me. Gently, she pins my arms above my head, and she slides across my hips again, leaning in to whisper conspiritoraly,
"No, darling, I need you to wait. Can you be my goddess just a bit longer?"
I whimper my assent, more to myself than to her. Turning back on my side, I watch her with a focus I've never know myself to have before.
She's never undressed me before
The camera clicks.
I've never snapped like that.
I've never wanted her more.
Click.
I wonder if it will show in the pictures?
I watch her, eyes half lidded, as she removes the roll of film and places it in a container, setting it aside carefully before returning to me.
"You sell a lot of these, then?" I ask quietly.
"More than you know, especially since I started shooting you. Everyone wants to know who you are," she smiles.
"And what do you tell them?"
"That you're a friend of mine." Her eyes roam over my body hungrily. "And when they inquire, I tell them you aren't available."
"Do you," I whisper softly.
"Of course." Before I can ask, she lays down beside me, pulling me tightly against her. "I want you for myself, haven't you noticed?"
Her mouth closes over mine, this time with more passion than I've ever felt from her. No, this time she isn't detached. It feels like flames licking along the top of my lips as she pours herself into me. Her jean-clad leg slides between my bare ones and I can feel myself arching my back into her.
"And if I were to say no," I gasp breathlessly.
"Don't be silly," she says, rolling me beneath her.
I cease to argue. There's no point. I'm hers and she knows it.
Her hands move along my body with a familiarity that should startle me, but then, she's been watching me like this for months. Her fingers touch me softly, gently, like she knows me better than I know myself.
Each touch, each caress, draws a moan from me. My hands flutter up and down her back eagerly, pausing, every moment or so, to touch her face. My head spins as she leans her mouth down to my breasts, her murmurs of delight thrumming through me as she licks up one side, teasing the ridge of my nipple with her tongue before releasing it and sliding the whole of my other nipple into her mouth.
I arch into her again, my legs wrapping around her jeans, my body pressed hard into her chest. I pull her hands down my waist, against my ass as I lick at her neck and beg for her.
"So impatient," she murmurs into my ear.
Quickly, she slides off my thong, slipping her hand inside me.
I discover I was right. Time ceases to exist and she strokes me- gently at first and then more quickly. I forget everything but the feeling of her, inside me, whispering to me of my own perfection. I forget about the heat of the afternoon and the cool of the approaching evening. There is no such thing as temprture, or time, or the rest of the world. I forget about the people below, the patio, the sky and the curtains that conceal us as she moves inside me. Her hands flutter softly over me, inside me, and around me. Her mouth leaves mine, and she licks hers way down my stomach, resting her mouth gently between my legs as I begin to whimper for her in earnest.
For a moment, it seems, I cannot breathe. Ther eis only her and a film of white and silver in front of my eyes as I reach into myself and give to her over and over. Her sighs and whispers mean nothing as she draws me into her. I only think of how the feeling seems to go on forever.
When my vision clears her mouth is over me, kissing me, and I can taste myself on her.
"Perfect," she whispers.
I smile up at her, stretch my back, and curl my legs to my stomach. "Do you want to take a picture of me now?"
"Of course," she says, standing and moving behind her camera. "Bu tthis one is for me."
*****************
Leaning over the railing of the red brick balcony, I can see people wandering about on the deck below. The concrete tickles me with the sand coming loose against my arms. Conversations, the smell of alcohol and smoke, and a small bit of longing drift up at me from below. I idly play with a lock of my hair, which falls down over my shoulders as I secretly, silently watch the movements of the people below. I feel a bit like a vouyer as I listen, un-biddem, to people talking. I am a goddess, peeking overfr the edge of heaven; I'm interested- but not enough to go down.
She creeps up behind me, silently stalking me like a cat; just as quietly watching me, as I am watching the people below. Without thinking I lean back against her chest, settling into her as she warps her arms around my waist, hooking her fingers together over the top band of my underwear.
"They're fun to watch, aren't they," she asks me, in the half-gentle, half-mocking tone she always uses when making conversation with me.
"They are. It must be great fun for you, to live above a bar."
"Sometimes." She pulls me closer, back up against her chest, tightening her grip around my waist, as her lips brush my hair away from my shoulders. She smells like allspice, cinnamon and vanilla. Her scent drifts across my back with each of her tender but detached kisses.
As she works across my back I light a cigarette and breathe the smell of nicotine mixed with the smell of her. I let the feeling of the cigarette rush over me, making me light headed. I press my hips against the brick railing, the sandiness working its way through the sheer robe over my shoulders. Her hands shift higher to rest somewhere between my hips and my shoulders, laying on the rail next to my arms.
The feeling is strange, being pressed between the wall and her body- somewhere between the sky and the patio below, where the people are still talking and laughing. They are unaware; unaware of she and I looking down on them, our smoke, our cares, our passions. Held there, completely unnoticed, pinned by her hips and feeling light-headed, all of this makes me feel oddly free.
"Are you ready." She asks, mocking, gentle, curious.
"I am."
I turn to go inside and take in the giant french foors- wide open and waiting. Inside my feet sink down into the thick white rug. A giant bed is waiting for me, anticipating me, covered in white, pillows and tassles. The warm breeze chases me in, tickling the backs of my calves with silky sheet curtains. They kiss me like tiny butterflies, floating gently off course, whispering to me. Sunlight pours in, giving everything an unearthly glow. It makes me feel unreal. I tell her so.
"I don't feel real. I feel like something else."
Her black eyes roam my body as I slip off my robe. She smiles at me with an odd look in her eyes- somewhere between guarded admiration and envy.
"You're not real. not today love. You are perfection. You are mystery. You are need. Do you believe that?"
"No, not really."
She moves behind her camera in the corner, checking her film and the lenses. "Shall I convince you?"
"Please do so, if you can." I know she can, I think to myself. She could make me feel like time itself if she wished me to.
She leaves the room for a moment, and when she returns she comes quite close to me, and offers me a small glass filled with soft green liquid. I can feel my breath catch as she slips her other arm arounf my waist and strokes my back as I toss back her offering. When I finish I follow a trail of stars behind her hand, which she lowers to a drawer on the bedside table. She sets the glass down and I lick my lips, tasting licorice, sugar and heat.
I breifly close my eyes and inhale, and when I open them I see her dark eyes boring into mine. Her lips begin to pres against me, her tongue slipping into my mouth, and the peices of holding my thoughts together begin to loosen. I sigh, wrapping my arms around her neck, and I close my eyes again- letting the feeling of her tongue tracing over my lips, teeth and mouth take me away.
She leads me to the bed, lifiting my legs, shifting my hair to one side and petting my face. Laying onmy back, I feel her running her long, smooth, too-perfect fingers over my bra, down my stomach, to the top of my thong. I shift my thighs, open my lips and anticipate.
In my ear, she whispers to me, "Hold still now, darling. This, you- are perfect."
I open my eyes again and she's looking at me from behind the camera. I can see, though, the look she gives me. She looks as though she can barely keep from coming back over to me.
The camera clicks.
I think of her mouth and sigh. My back arches slightly. I hear her.
"Beautiful, darling."
The camera clicks again.
She comes back. I blink, once. Twice. She straddles me, playing with my hair, teasing my neck with the tips of her fingers and her soft, sweet smelling breath. She truns me on my side and kisses my back with those soft, detached kisses she gave me before on the porch. Her jeans and white t-shirt press against my skin. The feeling of her so close makes me crazy.
Inside, I can feel my stomach turning over. I struggle to maintain my composure as I feel my body become wet, warm under her touch. The fluttering feeling in my stomach won't calm, won't stop. My heart races as her hands move up and down my back. I try to focus, turning my face into the blankets, breathing in the scent of them. But she's tehre too, they smell like her- allspice, cinnamon and vanilla.
Just as I feel like I have myself under control she unsnaps the back of my bra and pulls it off. My will snaps, and I am sure that she can hear it echoing around the room. I act without thinking, doing what I had never dared to do before; I flip onto my back and try to trap her with my legs. I reach out for her, but she is fast, so fast. Too quick for me. Gently, she pins my arms above my head, and she slides across my hips again, leaning in to whisper conspiritoraly,
"No, darling, I need you to wait. Can you be my goddess just a bit longer?"
I whimper my assent, more to myself than to her. Turning back on my side, I watch her with a focus I've never know myself to have before.
She's never undressed me before
The camera clicks.
I've never snapped like that.
I've never wanted her more.
Click.
I wonder if it will show in the pictures?
I watch her, eyes half lidded, as she removes the roll of film and places it in a container, setting it aside carefully before returning to me.
"You sell a lot of these, then?" I ask quietly.
"More than you know, especially since I started shooting you. Everyone wants to know who you are," she smiles.
"And what do you tell them?"
"That you're a friend of mine." Her eyes roam over my body hungrily. "And when they inquire, I tell them you aren't available."
"Do you," I whisper softly.
"Of course." Before I can ask, she lays down beside me, pulling me tightly against her. "I want you for myself, haven't you noticed?"
Her mouth closes over mine, this time with more passion than I've ever felt from her. No, this time she isn't detached. It feels like flames licking along the top of my lips as she pours herself into me. Her jean-clad leg slides between my bare ones and I can feel myself arching my back into her.
"And if I were to say no," I gasp breathlessly.
"Don't be silly," she says, rolling me beneath her.
I cease to argue. There's no point. I'm hers and she knows it.
Her hands move along my body with a familiarity that should startle me, but then, she's been watching me like this for months. Her fingers touch me softly, gently, like she knows me better than I know myself.
Each touch, each caress, draws a moan from me. My hands flutter up and down her back eagerly, pausing, every moment or so, to touch her face. My head spins as she leans her mouth down to my breasts, her murmurs of delight thrumming through me as she licks up one side, teasing the ridge of my nipple with her tongue before releasing it and sliding the whole of my other nipple into her mouth.
I arch into her again, my legs wrapping around her jeans, my body pressed hard into her chest. I pull her hands down my waist, against my ass as I lick at her neck and beg for her.
"So impatient," she murmurs into my ear.
Quickly, she slides off my thong, slipping her hand inside me.
I discover I was right. Time ceases to exist and she strokes me- gently at first and then more quickly. I forget everything but the feeling of her, inside me, whispering to me of my own perfection. I forget about the heat of the afternoon and the cool of the approaching evening. There is no such thing as temprture, or time, or the rest of the world. I forget about the people below, the patio, the sky and the curtains that conceal us as she moves inside me. Her hands flutter softly over me, inside me, and around me. Her mouth leaves mine, and she licks hers way down my stomach, resting her mouth gently between my legs as I begin to whimper for her in earnest.
For a moment, it seems, I cannot breathe. Ther eis only her and a film of white and silver in front of my eyes as I reach into myself and give to her over and over. Her sighs and whispers mean nothing as she draws me into her. I only think of how the feeling seems to go on forever.
When my vision clears her mouth is over me, kissing me, and I can taste myself on her.
"Perfect," she whispers.
I smile up at her, stretch my back, and curl my legs to my stomach. "Do you want to take a picture of me now?"
"Of course," she says, standing and moving behind her camera. "Bu tthis one is for me."
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Lap Dance
Okay. I lied. I got a request. So, another one. In the same night. I'm going to be a mess when I finally hit the sack.
I'm editing this to add, I was listening to goldfrapp when I was writing this, if you want a soundtrack.
*************
"Dance for me."
It wasn't a request. Not really. The command in her voice was there. I could see that it was what she wanted. How could she not?
All those years ago, when she saw me, that first time, wasn't that what I had been doing?
Dancing. Lost in the music. Lost in myself and the movement of my body.
She already had music playing. I didn't have to wait.
I nodded, simply, and led her to the couch; pushing her back. I wasn't gentle. I wasn't kind. I didn't have to be. I was hers, always. Tonight, though, I was going to show her she was mine as well.
There was a pulse to the music, and I found it. Soft, insistent, throbbing for me.
She was watching, and I could see in her eyes that she wanted me already. I could see in her eyes the desire she couldn't hide. I loved it.
A throaty chuckle worked its way up my throat as I slid my shirt over my head. I tossed it beside her and moved to straddle her lap.
She shuddered beneath me.
It was easy, too easy, as her eyes raked up and down the line of my body. She took it all in, the black bra, my breasts swelling beneath it, the ivory gleam of my skin. I leaned into her, and let my hair fall like a silk curtain over her eyes. I could feel her gaze still, between the chestnut tangles and curls. I could hear her breath before I felt it, moving my hair slightly.
I tossed it back, arching my body back and away from her. my neck, my chest, my stomach in a perfect line, teasing her, tempting her. I ground my hips against her, pushing into her as I moved back and away, giing her a view of my body.
She moved for me. Her hands reached out and I felt her fingertips brush against the silk and lace of my bra.
"No," I smiled at her firmly. "You're not allowed to do that."
I took her hands and moved them behind her head, teasing her with my closeness as I did. She groaned softly, and I couldn't help but smile again.
I stood, slowly, sensuously, swiveling my hips so that she could see the matching black silk band of my thong below the ruffles of my skirt. I kept moving to that slow, throbbing pulse. I glanced at her over my shoulder and I spread my legs and leaned to the ground, tempting her.
I could see her strain. She wanted to move. I wanted her to move too, but not yet.
Slowly, so slowly, I slid the skirt down. My hips exposed, my thighs bare, I danced for her to the rythm of the music, and our pulse. I could see it in her chest as she breathed, I could hear it in the soft noises from her mouth. We were pulsing together, we were moving together, she and I.
I backed into her, my ass firmly planted against her, my legs falling full over hers. I leaned back, pressed against her heaving chest, my hair over her neck, my head beside hers. I turned, every so slightly, and licked her.
Swiveling, I pulled myself into her lap properly, my legs bent gently over her before I extended one, slowly, so painfully slow, beneath her nose. My ankle slid behind her neck, drawing her head forward.
"Kiss me. Once. and be sweet about it," I told her.
Her lips moved obediently, gently pressing my ankle, then my calf, then my knee as I moved it beside her mouth. I lay back, my head on the couch, looking up at her.
Desire, raw and untamed was flickering in her eyes. I loved it, loved my power over her, loved the thought that she wanted me so badly it hurt.
I slid up, up again, kneeling over her. My legs across hers, straddling her again, I listened to the music change to something slower, headier.
"More?"
"Yes, please." She was breathless.
Wordlessly I reached behind me, unhooked the black lace of my bra and let it fall between us. I leaned into her, softly, gently, feeling the cotton of her shirt scratching against my skin. Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes in pleasure.
As she tilted her head back I moved closer, sliding one breast, then the other, slowly and carefully beside her face, close to her lips, and down her body. I never stopped moving, not once, as I moved my hips against her, my stomach warm and soft on her shirt and then her jeans.
I knelt beween her legs and looked up at her.
"Watch this. Watch me."
I fell back then, lifting my legs for her, spreading them wide, letting her see the fullness of my body as I sprawled out on the floor. My hands in my hair, my back arched shrply, I lifted my hips, again and again, for her to gaze at. I rolled onto my stomach and let her look at the perfect lines of my back before moving my ass against her, nudging her legs wider apart as I teased her and danced slowly to the rythym she had set for me.
On my back again, my legs up again on each side of her knees, hips lifted, and I asked, knowing hte answer.
"Shall I?"
"Please. Yes."
I slid the silk and lace confection from my hips and flipped them lightly into her lap. But she wasn't looking there. She was gazing at me, legs spread wide for her, laying in the floor, looking like a fallen angel.
It took me no time to pull myself into her arms again, this time with her help. I didn't object, no- I couldn't.
The music began its insistent rise, moving harder and faster for me. I didn't want to stop her. I felt her hands upon my hips as I rode her and her passion for me. I could feel the strength in her fingers as the nails dug into my bone.
Ecstasy, in that moment, I could feel it in her. I could feel it in the roughness of her jeans and the cotton of her shirt. I could feel it in her hands and she stroked my hips and my back and my chest. I pushed her back and felt her mouth close over my nipples and I sighed.
I pulled away, so slightly, so gently, and titled her face back to look at me. I gazed at her, and took in the perfect pout of her parted lips, the sweetness of her breath on my body and the unbridled lust in her eyes. I moved my hips again, gently, and felt her rise up to meet me.
"Kiss me," I bade her.
She did, gently, sucking my lower lip into her mouth.
"Do you like it when I dance?"
"Yes."
"Good. Take me to your room, and dance with me."
She kissed me again, lifting me gently, and we did.
I'm editing this to add, I was listening to goldfrapp when I was writing this, if you want a soundtrack.
*************
"Dance for me."
It wasn't a request. Not really. The command in her voice was there. I could see that it was what she wanted. How could she not?
All those years ago, when she saw me, that first time, wasn't that what I had been doing?
Dancing. Lost in the music. Lost in myself and the movement of my body.
She already had music playing. I didn't have to wait.
I nodded, simply, and led her to the couch; pushing her back. I wasn't gentle. I wasn't kind. I didn't have to be. I was hers, always. Tonight, though, I was going to show her she was mine as well.
There was a pulse to the music, and I found it. Soft, insistent, throbbing for me.
She was watching, and I could see in her eyes that she wanted me already. I could see in her eyes the desire she couldn't hide. I loved it.
A throaty chuckle worked its way up my throat as I slid my shirt over my head. I tossed it beside her and moved to straddle her lap.
She shuddered beneath me.
It was easy, too easy, as her eyes raked up and down the line of my body. She took it all in, the black bra, my breasts swelling beneath it, the ivory gleam of my skin. I leaned into her, and let my hair fall like a silk curtain over her eyes. I could feel her gaze still, between the chestnut tangles and curls. I could hear her breath before I felt it, moving my hair slightly.
I tossed it back, arching my body back and away from her. my neck, my chest, my stomach in a perfect line, teasing her, tempting her. I ground my hips against her, pushing into her as I moved back and away, giing her a view of my body.
She moved for me. Her hands reached out and I felt her fingertips brush against the silk and lace of my bra.
"No," I smiled at her firmly. "You're not allowed to do that."
I took her hands and moved them behind her head, teasing her with my closeness as I did. She groaned softly, and I couldn't help but smile again.
I stood, slowly, sensuously, swiveling my hips so that she could see the matching black silk band of my thong below the ruffles of my skirt. I kept moving to that slow, throbbing pulse. I glanced at her over my shoulder and I spread my legs and leaned to the ground, tempting her.
I could see her strain. She wanted to move. I wanted her to move too, but not yet.
Slowly, so slowly, I slid the skirt down. My hips exposed, my thighs bare, I danced for her to the rythm of the music, and our pulse. I could see it in her chest as she breathed, I could hear it in the soft noises from her mouth. We were pulsing together, we were moving together, she and I.
I backed into her, my ass firmly planted against her, my legs falling full over hers. I leaned back, pressed against her heaving chest, my hair over her neck, my head beside hers. I turned, every so slightly, and licked her.
Swiveling, I pulled myself into her lap properly, my legs bent gently over her before I extended one, slowly, so painfully slow, beneath her nose. My ankle slid behind her neck, drawing her head forward.
"Kiss me. Once. and be sweet about it," I told her.
Her lips moved obediently, gently pressing my ankle, then my calf, then my knee as I moved it beside her mouth. I lay back, my head on the couch, looking up at her.
Desire, raw and untamed was flickering in her eyes. I loved it, loved my power over her, loved the thought that she wanted me so badly it hurt.
I slid up, up again, kneeling over her. My legs across hers, straddling her again, I listened to the music change to something slower, headier.
"More?"
"Yes, please." She was breathless.
Wordlessly I reached behind me, unhooked the black lace of my bra and let it fall between us. I leaned into her, softly, gently, feeling the cotton of her shirt scratching against my skin. Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes in pleasure.
As she tilted her head back I moved closer, sliding one breast, then the other, slowly and carefully beside her face, close to her lips, and down her body. I never stopped moving, not once, as I moved my hips against her, my stomach warm and soft on her shirt and then her jeans.
I knelt beween her legs and looked up at her.
"Watch this. Watch me."
I fell back then, lifting my legs for her, spreading them wide, letting her see the fullness of my body as I sprawled out on the floor. My hands in my hair, my back arched shrply, I lifted my hips, again and again, for her to gaze at. I rolled onto my stomach and let her look at the perfect lines of my back before moving my ass against her, nudging her legs wider apart as I teased her and danced slowly to the rythym she had set for me.
On my back again, my legs up again on each side of her knees, hips lifted, and I asked, knowing hte answer.
"Shall I?"
"Please. Yes."
I slid the silk and lace confection from my hips and flipped them lightly into her lap. But she wasn't looking there. She was gazing at me, legs spread wide for her, laying in the floor, looking like a fallen angel.
It took me no time to pull myself into her arms again, this time with her help. I didn't object, no- I couldn't.
The music began its insistent rise, moving harder and faster for me. I didn't want to stop her. I felt her hands upon my hips as I rode her and her passion for me. I could feel the strength in her fingers as the nails dug into my bone.
Ecstasy, in that moment, I could feel it in her. I could feel it in the roughness of her jeans and the cotton of her shirt. I could feel it in her hands and she stroked my hips and my back and my chest. I pushed her back and felt her mouth close over my nipples and I sighed.
I pulled away, so slightly, so gently, and titled her face back to look at me. I gazed at her, and took in the perfect pout of her parted lips, the sweetness of her breath on my body and the unbridled lust in her eyes. I moved my hips again, gently, and felt her rise up to meet me.
"Kiss me," I bade her.
She did, gently, sucking my lower lip into her mouth.
"Do you like it when I dance?"
"Yes."
"Good. Take me to your room, and dance with me."
She kissed me again, lifting me gently, and we did.
Taking Me
Practice for love scenes in the new books. Dirty, adult content. Skip if its not your thing. Back to normal commentary tomorrow. I hope.
Serioudly. this is not for a child's eyes.
Have a naughty night friends. I know I will.
AGxx
***********
Her eyes were perfect. The shimmered in the dark like two candles lighting me down a darkened hallway to the bed I found myself laying on. They were deep and full of promises. They were all promises I'd hope she kept.
Her lips were heaven. They were soft and warm and wet. I sighed as she stroked them over mind, quickly, teasing me, making me want more. The press of them grew harder, rougher, and I could feel her breath hot against my mouth, filling it with the heat of her desire. Her tongue was candy as it slipped inside me, stroking me everywhere and tempting me to more wicked things.
I slid her fingers inside my mouth, they were salt and warm and tasted like me and her together. Licking at them, sucking them, I felt more wanton than I ever had before. Our exchange perfect, mouths close fingers moving in and out of eachothers mouths. I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to.
She streaked the wetness from my mouth and hers down my cheeks and twined our hands together as she pulled me below her. She never let go, not for a moment, as she spilled her body over mine. She pressed hard into me, as I lay there, helpless beneath her, wanting her to take me, top me, in a way I had never felt before.
I knew, in that moment, my surrender was imminent.
She stripped me bare. There is no other way to put it. I lay bemeath her as she pulled me free of everything that kept me from her. I shivered; from the cold air against my body, from the look in her eyes and the power she had over me. I wanted to give it up.
Her hands were gentle, infinately gentle as she stroked my face, looking down at me like I was a work of art, a picture she wanted to preserve in her mind for all her life. She moved down, my neck and my collarbone receiving similar attentions, as though she were memorizing every part of me, as though she never wanted to forget. I hoped she wouldn't.
I hoped she wouldn't forget, but recall it again and again as she stroked my breasts and teased me to the point of begging and whimpering. "Please, please, please," it was all I could say, a single, echoing refrain in my head that spilled past my lips before I could stop it.
Her legs were strong, so strong as she held me down with them, lowering herself so she could lick and kiss the places she was touching. My mind loosed, and all I saw was a swirl of color and emotion behind my eyes as they fluttered open and shut. Her hair was soft as I tangled my hands in it, drawing her yet closer to me again.
But it was her skin, the warm sensual heat of her body that finally sent me to the edge. Her breasts against mine, her stomach hot and firm against me, it was all of my yearnings in a single movement, as she slid over and down me. There was nothing in that moment, nothing but the strength of her arms and the touch of her body all over me, as I began my refrain again.
Please. Please. Please.
If there was a moment to beg, this one seemed perfect. If there was a moment to lose it all, this was it. I couldn't wait, not a second longer, for her to take me.
My hands slid over her body, down her back- screatching as I went. I grabbed her and pulled her firmly against me. Her wet, perfect heat was almost more than I could bear. The feeling of her push and release was all I could have wanted, all I hoped for, and yet so far from the release I was wanting.
Her hands, finally, finally, moved into me, and I knew completion at last. She and I, joined together, that was perfection. That was true pleasure. Her golden, husky voice whispering in my ear of my beauty, her need for me, and how I felt- it was everything. I echoed her, I called back to her, as she moved. Her hips and hands and breasts never stopped, her mouth at once on my neck, my mouth, my shoulders and my ears.
Please. Please. Please.
There was a moment I felt it. There was a perfect, golden glowing ball of heat growing inside me and she was stroking it and playing with it like it was her own. She owned that spot, she owned me, and she wasn't going to let that ball break open until she was ready.
I begged for her, hour after hour. I cried for her, wept tears of pleading and passion. I could feel her love for me with every stoke, every kiss, every moment she delayed me. I was dying in her arms, but there was life; every part of me was awake and dancing and screaming for more of her.
Fill me, fill me again. Give me more and more. I begged her. There was her, and more of her, and at last everything. Her hands, her mouth, her body were inside me, completely.
I could feel the moment she released me. I could hear it in her voice. "You belong to me now." I couldn't dispute it as I rode wave after wave of pleasure and passion for her. I gave in to her, every second of it, and when at last, finally, there was no more of me to give her; she fell back and a wept.
As I cried for her, soft gentle tears, she stroked me, petted me and told me of my perfection. Her tongue was soft, gentle as she licked the dampness of my neck and stomach. She drank me in, tasted all of my pleasure. She dipped her head between my legs, and there I found how truly hers I was.
Gently, softly, slowly, patiently, she moved her mouth over me and brought me again. This time with love, this time with all the softness that her strength could afford her. As I shivered and shuddered under her velvet kiss, I felt myself move beyond my body and into the gleam of her perfect gaze.
Finished, wasted, completely her own, she let me hold onto her. She was my breath. She was my heartbeat. She was my pleasure.
Last night, she was my muse.
Serioudly. this is not for a child's eyes.
Have a naughty night friends. I know I will.
AGxx
***********
Her eyes were perfect. The shimmered in the dark like two candles lighting me down a darkened hallway to the bed I found myself laying on. They were deep and full of promises. They were all promises I'd hope she kept.
Her lips were heaven. They were soft and warm and wet. I sighed as she stroked them over mind, quickly, teasing me, making me want more. The press of them grew harder, rougher, and I could feel her breath hot against my mouth, filling it with the heat of her desire. Her tongue was candy as it slipped inside me, stroking me everywhere and tempting me to more wicked things.
I slid her fingers inside my mouth, they were salt and warm and tasted like me and her together. Licking at them, sucking them, I felt more wanton than I ever had before. Our exchange perfect, mouths close fingers moving in and out of eachothers mouths. I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to.
She streaked the wetness from my mouth and hers down my cheeks and twined our hands together as she pulled me below her. She never let go, not for a moment, as she spilled her body over mine. She pressed hard into me, as I lay there, helpless beneath her, wanting her to take me, top me, in a way I had never felt before.
I knew, in that moment, my surrender was imminent.
She stripped me bare. There is no other way to put it. I lay bemeath her as she pulled me free of everything that kept me from her. I shivered; from the cold air against my body, from the look in her eyes and the power she had over me. I wanted to give it up.
Her hands were gentle, infinately gentle as she stroked my face, looking down at me like I was a work of art, a picture she wanted to preserve in her mind for all her life. She moved down, my neck and my collarbone receiving similar attentions, as though she were memorizing every part of me, as though she never wanted to forget. I hoped she wouldn't.
I hoped she wouldn't forget, but recall it again and again as she stroked my breasts and teased me to the point of begging and whimpering. "Please, please, please," it was all I could say, a single, echoing refrain in my head that spilled past my lips before I could stop it.
Her legs were strong, so strong as she held me down with them, lowering herself so she could lick and kiss the places she was touching. My mind loosed, and all I saw was a swirl of color and emotion behind my eyes as they fluttered open and shut. Her hair was soft as I tangled my hands in it, drawing her yet closer to me again.
But it was her skin, the warm sensual heat of her body that finally sent me to the edge. Her breasts against mine, her stomach hot and firm against me, it was all of my yearnings in a single movement, as she slid over and down me. There was nothing in that moment, nothing but the strength of her arms and the touch of her body all over me, as I began my refrain again.
Please. Please. Please.
If there was a moment to beg, this one seemed perfect. If there was a moment to lose it all, this was it. I couldn't wait, not a second longer, for her to take me.
My hands slid over her body, down her back- screatching as I went. I grabbed her and pulled her firmly against me. Her wet, perfect heat was almost more than I could bear. The feeling of her push and release was all I could have wanted, all I hoped for, and yet so far from the release I was wanting.
Her hands, finally, finally, moved into me, and I knew completion at last. She and I, joined together, that was perfection. That was true pleasure. Her golden, husky voice whispering in my ear of my beauty, her need for me, and how I felt- it was everything. I echoed her, I called back to her, as she moved. Her hips and hands and breasts never stopped, her mouth at once on my neck, my mouth, my shoulders and my ears.
Please. Please. Please.
There was a moment I felt it. There was a perfect, golden glowing ball of heat growing inside me and she was stroking it and playing with it like it was her own. She owned that spot, she owned me, and she wasn't going to let that ball break open until she was ready.
I begged for her, hour after hour. I cried for her, wept tears of pleading and passion. I could feel her love for me with every stoke, every kiss, every moment she delayed me. I was dying in her arms, but there was life; every part of me was awake and dancing and screaming for more of her.
Fill me, fill me again. Give me more and more. I begged her. There was her, and more of her, and at last everything. Her hands, her mouth, her body were inside me, completely.
I could feel the moment she released me. I could hear it in her voice. "You belong to me now." I couldn't dispute it as I rode wave after wave of pleasure and passion for her. I gave in to her, every second of it, and when at last, finally, there was no more of me to give her; she fell back and a wept.
As I cried for her, soft gentle tears, she stroked me, petted me and told me of my perfection. Her tongue was soft, gentle as she licked the dampness of my neck and stomach. She drank me in, tasted all of my pleasure. She dipped her head between my legs, and there I found how truly hers I was.
Gently, softly, slowly, patiently, she moved her mouth over me and brought me again. This time with love, this time with all the softness that her strength could afford her. As I shivered and shuddered under her velvet kiss, I felt myself move beyond my body and into the gleam of her perfect gaze.
Finished, wasted, completely her own, she let me hold onto her. She was my breath. She was my heartbeat. She was my pleasure.
Last night, she was my muse.
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