reading to him

I read 'i picture' to him over the phone the other night. I had been incredibly horny the whole day and he had promised to 'help me out' if I waited for him and was 'good' until he called. But hours of delays and interruptions had followed, and by the time we got on the phone, we were left strangely a bit mellow, a little less urgent, but still curious to see how this would go.
So we settled down for me to read, I was nervous as hell, and it felt difficult getting those first words out.
'I picture me..'
I was unprepared for how quickly I got excited, that increasing trembling in my voice as I got towards the end. I could not keep my hand away, pressing down a bit with my fingers on my shorts.
I could not have pictured how it would be to say:
'I picture you hard, I do'
Because at that moment I really did, and I knew that he must be.
And when I was done reading, I threw myself on my bed immediately to begin to touch myself for real, even before he was able to digest and say:
'wow, yes, now I am hard... well done'
I got my gold star... and then some.

i picture

i picture me

feet and hands bound
in da vinci corners

what do you want to do?

i picture you

naked
crouching above me

what do i want to do?

i picture you

touching outside
on my dampening lips
with light fingers

i picture me

as you breathe
onto my crotch

picture me
picturing you

picture me
arms and legs resisting
my binds
picture me
pushing up
every time you touch

picture you
refusing me
picture
your hands
strumming my moans
and then muting them
brushing my clit
then losing it

picture me
puzzled when you stop
picture me
not quite ready to plead
searching your eyes
for a hint of mercy
that i'm not sure I want to find

yet


what do you picture next?

will you
give me your mouth now?
will you give me your tongue?

yes
me i picture
the torture of your tongue
long wet licks on my cunt
outside on my lips
barely scraping my clit
stiffened tongue
scooping juices from my cunt
mixing them with your saliva
and then back onto me
just nearly
just around my clit
maybe a little of it
making its way down
but just barely not enough
jerking and convulsing
to try and get you
there


picture
my relief
when your one finger
barges suddenly in
and thrusts

picture my surprised
ecstasy -
this
sudden dark wet
leaking
this
soaking sucking clinging
onto you

and i picture you hard
i do
i see this hardness
in your hands
in my thoughts
and
can you picture
what i want to do?

do you see me
as i see you?
my legs cannot open any wider
my cunt cannot want any further
your cock is ready
and you slip it in
you do
rigid, picking up
my bending fluid
then pulling out

i part as you fill
i heat as you fill
i pant as you fill
i scream as you fill

will i tell you then-
can you picture me
finally pleading-
will i ask you-
will i beg you please-

can you know how badly
i don't want you to stop?

but also how badly
i want to taste us?

cos i picture you
dipping in to me
stroke after stroke
then stopping to
feed my liquid
into my mouth
from your cock

my mouth
on your cock

from your cock
into my mouth

from my cunt
onto your cock
into my mouth

my stretched lips sucking
and licking
sucking soft
and licking hard
my insides so soft
and holding on hard
every time you leave
always to re-enter
and you give
what you gave me
over
and over

how do you picture me now?

do you picture me
picturing this?

what do we do next?

starting afresh *welcome*

Well here I am, another refugee from Indecent Blogging. Lost most of my posts too because I was silly and didn't archive after the first crash. Thought I'd have a couple more days before it happened again at least.
I'll probably post a couple of my old stuff up first. I only had my more story-like entries saved, I'd love to get comments on those, though I know they're on the longish side.
But then after that, I'll start with the new.
Hello to all readers, old and new, hope you enjoy!

gang bang mentality

A little tipsy, I stumbled into one of the rooms, looking for my friend.

I found him lying on his king-sized bed in the dark. He was not all that I found.

A sudden shock of massed bodies. Next to my friend, the boy I had been eyeing for the night, those sarcastic blue eyes that I’d been craving hidden in the darkness. Clustered around the two men, three girls, lying huddled. No one really moving, just lying close, tangled, innocent, giggling and cracking lewd jokes once in a while.

There is an instant appeal to this picture of flesh touching flesh touching flesh. It arrests you, you can think only one thing when you see it, and so I said it:

‘Can I join? Is there room for me?’

I have always been fascinated with the idea of ‘gang bangs’

How luxurious it sounds. It always conjures up these larger-than-life images in my mind. Her pussy buried in my mouth, my tongue flicking upwards as I moan, a cock in my hand, a finger on my other hand searching inside another cunt, a cock deep inside, barging in and out, a soft female hand caressing my breasts, her lips sucking at my nipples once in a while… Our sounds mixing together, discordant, a confused pleasurable mess of sensory overload.

I am guessing the reality of it is quite different, much more awkward. Odd too that I should fantasize about this so much, when the truth is I usually prefer to be more focused, can find even the 6-9 position to be too distracting at times.

But the idea is fascinating nonetheless. I’ve often wondered how such things actually happen. Of course I know there are plenty of planned events out there just for this kind of thing to happen. But what of the spontaneous unplanned orgies, of the kind you can read about in shoddy erotica and naughty ‘it happened to me one night’ confessionals?

Sudden lust surging from so many people simultaneously?. Maybe it is almost trite for some. But I want to know… How does it go? How does it begin?

Room was made for me in the bed, everyone shifted, finding it hilarious, trying not to poke out an eye with a leg or an elbow. I lay on my side, opposite to the direction of everyone else, at the head of the two men, looking down. I was wearing a short skirt and much of my upper thigh waited naked in the air, exposed to the group. A girl’s head rested on my legs, my head was near my friend’s, and I whispered ‘hello’ in his ear, laughing.

The collective horniness was tangible in the air, latent in every joke, every casual touch. And I began to understand better how it might go.

It would have been so easy to begin something.

Only one person had to reach out.

It could have been me, I could have leaned over and kissed my blue-eyed boy, he could have kissed back, the girl at my legs could have started to caress the inside of my thigh, she could have touched my friend, could have done anything really and no one would have been able to stop.

It would have been easy. And I loved lying there in this innocent congregation of warm comforting bodies, thinking secret dirty thoughts of how it would go.

But nothing happened. We lay there laughing to ourselves for a bit, resting, self-conscious of the lure of our proximity. And then everyone slowly got up one by one, to get another drink, to think another lonely thought, to find another friend.

what they call a rose

my mind is teeming with thoughts of things that i've been ruminating on that i should write about some day.

none of them are too sexy though. haven't got much action since my last escapade, and for some reason, haven't been too inclined to 'self-service' either.

not that i've stopped or anything.. just hasn't been as good.

anyhoo, times like these are good for thinking. but it is hard to know where to start.

on a side note, i thought i could get away with referring to my current sex partner as just *him*.. somehow, i resisted the idea of reducing him to an initial or nickname, although i can definitely see the wisdom in it now.

convenience aside, i also think calling someone u're having casual sex with 'him' gives that person too much weight... him, like HE's the all important, only one, HIM.. i don't like it.

what is in a name? lol.a lot.

so i'll try calling him T. bet you can guess what it stands for.

just don't be calling him Mister T.

:D

again and again

he doesn't read here.

i won't let him because i prefer to have this spot to my own, prefer still to maintain control over what he can know about me.

but i send him some of my writings that i post here sometimes, so he knows the things i have yet to learn how to say aloud, so he knows how my body waits for him, how my mind sometimes cannot seem to turn away from sex, just becomes consumed by it, and it is because of him.

once, while chatting, he typed this to me (having read trickle I and trickle II )

'i worry somewhat that i've awakened something in you that may take away from your life - but moments later i feel the intense satisfaction of the knowledge of your increasing womanhood and self-confidence- pleasure and pain from pleasure - how your every future partner will benefit from our experience...but oh how I want to have you first - again and again'

again and again, yes. so hot.

memory of my ex

‘Goodnight’
‘Mmm..goodnight’

Kisses ensue, I don’t want him to leave. We’re at his parent’s house. God knows he shouldn’t be here in the guestroom at all, not with his parents on the same floor, not when they don’t even know about the two of us.

He leaves me finally, goes to his room. I’m in my bed, listening to my heart pound. His kiss alone riles me up so much. To be here and not be with him. Impossible.

I’m picturing what I’m going to do next. I need to wait some time still. Twenty minutes at least.

Thinking about it, it is only natural my hand slides down, only natural for me to lightly touch myself. Mmm him, him, him, he is in my every stroke, he is in my every thought. My clit swells between my fingers, I am wet already. Is it time yet?

Just a little more now, just a little more, don’t want to cum just yet.

Time is cruel to those who anticipate.

Yes I think it is time now.

Out of my bed now, creaky spots on his wooden floor I must avoid, doorknob to turn first before I push it closed. And now his door, his doorknob to turn ever so slowly, trying to calm my breathing.

He is sleeping already in his bed. I’ve always been amazed by his ability to fall asleep so quickly.

He rouses himself only after I stand there for a while, staring at his strong sleeping body; he starts a little to see me suddenly there.

His eyelids heavy with sleep and lust, he stares up at me with a slow almost unaware smile. I smile back and climb quickly on top of him, straddled on top of his legs, slip my top off, my naked torso ripe against him. I tease my breasts near his mouth, his lips latch onto my nipples instantly, sucking, but I pull away. It is my turn to give him pleasure, like he always does for me; I will finish myself off later in bed after I go back, thinking of this.

I lift up my body on all fours, dangling above him, pull up his shirt, rub my breasts against his bare chest, sweeping temptingly down.

But tonight I will not even tease him much. Tonight I don’t even want him to really realize what’s happening.

So I push his shorts and briefs down, roughly, suddenly. His cock springs out as I hoped, already getting hard. His eyes are closed above me, he is pushing up, I love to have him vulnerable like this, to catch him off guard, like he has done for me so many times.

I take his lovely hard cock in hand, it is so warm against my cold little hands. His cock, how can you have so much love for an organ? But I love its smell, I love the soft rare skin, how it ripples taut as he hardens, little veins and bumps, I love the warm rigidity of it in my hands. And now in my mouth, little O kiss for the tip of his cock, tongue in circles around his head, many little kisses all down his shaft, letting myself dribble onto him, the saliva sticky all over him so my hand can glide freely up and down, pressure on his tip with my mouth, slow sucking, then harder. And my hands are on his balls, his prickly shaved balls undulating in my hand, soft still, but I know they will be hard later, I know they will be straining too. The way his cock strains into my mouth. I pause to take one of his balls softly into my mouth. He’s holding my hair back as always, and trying not to moan, trying to be quiet, I can tell. And now I take him back in my mouth, move my head up and down for him, engulfing him in sweeping wet strokes of my tongue and lips. I know he’s thinking about my pussy now, remembering how if feels when I ride him.

But I won’t give him that tonight. Tonight he has no control. And the only pleasure I want to get out of this is his own. I pump harder now, not giving up, my jaw stretched open, taking him in just a little deeper each time. My hands are on his balls still, keeping his pulse, yes, he is losing it, and the more he loses it, the more I do, faster and faster, humming against his cock.

And oh he begins, he cannot hold it in long, just as I had hoped, he grabs himself suddenly, head still tilted back on his pillow, and begins to pound himself into my mouth, milking himself, oh his cum spurts out into my mouth, I continue to suck gently as he cums, his thick liquid runs easily down my throat, only a little bit of his salty pungent stickiness lingering on my tongue.

I lick ever so gently and slowly around his collapsed cock, cleaning him up. And then slip his briefs and shorts back on, wriggle back into my top. I move myself back up from my crouching position, lie against his body, feeling his pounding heart as he sighs against me, I look into his eyes and we kiss, his taste now in his mouth, one long slow deep kiss.

I do not stay long.

‘This was all a dream’ I whisper lightly, laughing a little into his ear, as I pull away from his arms and out of the bed.

He smiles contently, holding onto my one arm still, laughing too. Then one last yearning touch of fingers and I sneak out of his room.

He’ll wonder in the morning.

what is missing

I miss my ex.

I miss his friendship, I miss having someone to call every night.

I miss being loved.Who doesn't love being loved?

I miss the hugs. You know the kind of hugs I mean. Where neither wants to let go and for that one moment, you are each other's haven, as corny as that sounds.

I miss sex with my ex too. (sex with my ex.. catchy)

I miss the tenderness sometimes.He fumbled, he was clumsy, he was impatient.. but he loved.

He used to collapse down on me when we were done. I loved having his head on my chest, I would play with his curls, his body lined a little below me. Looking down at him in my arms like that, I would get this rush of fierce protection. I knew in those moments that every cliche was true, that I would do anything for him, realised how important it was to me that he be happy.

This man who loved me.He loved so simply, without complications, encompassing everything.

I loved him back, though maybe my heart wasn't quite big enough.

Loving sex is so different from casual sex.

My ex could get a hard-on just from me walking in to the room. I could be dressed shabby as hell, hair in an oily knot, face undone, and still it would happen.

I guess some women wouldn't see it as a huge compliment, would feel objectified and such.. but to me, it was the ultimate and sweetest gift he could give me. That it was just my presence and nothing else that turned him on.

And I remember him entering me, he would do it so unsurely and gently sometimes, looking right into my eyes, and I remember once, it really did feel like a revelation. It was old, but it felt so new, the experience of it, we were joined, I could feel him, I could feel it, it was so tangible and clear.I remember blabbing, not knowing how to express, I remember saying:'Yes, yes, yes, I feel it, I really do, I feel your love'

And he said only:'Yes, it was always there'

But it ended. Somehow or the other, I let it die off.

Or it was all in my imagination? Just another fairytale for me to spin and then destroy...

The 'physical' relationship I'm in right now is exciting, free, playful...he brings me to pleasure as I've never felt before.

But for all my gain, I miss all the other stuff, real or not. And having sex with him reminds me of all that stuff.

It's not HIS love that I want... but love is missing from my life.

PS. I'd like to write a better composed actual piece about this some time, but the pain is too fresh to paint with just yet. Anyways, this probably isn't the last you'll hear of my sex/love conundrum. I hope you can bear with me.

focus

I.

In the dim lamplight
Her drop of moisture glistens
A star at his tip

II.

Dull blades cooling air
In blurred circles above-
Her hoarse cries drift up

III.
A quick reaction
To the feel of plunging skin:
Small dark spot on bed

IV.

Her ass pushed up
His hand rushes down
Crack!

V.

Exiting from her
Merging pools drip free, once trapped
Now wet on his cock

VI.

A chair on four wheels
Swaying precariously
Holds up two bodies

VII.

The screen flashes still -
Mingling with their laugh and sigh
The audience claps

VIII.

Against the glass pane
Muted image of blending
Silhouettes- watching


IX.

Arc of his cock push -
Gasp caught sudden in her throat-
Deeper than before

X.

Eyes closed.
Wall otherwise up and down.
Bouncing.


XI.

Legs folded on her chest
Loud piercing screams struggle out
Alien to her ear

XII.

He dips into her
Her fingers writhing above
His groans start to build

XIII.

Teeth near her shoulder
Finding once again new skin -
And he thrusts

XIV.

Stray hairs pushed in place
Whisper persists in her ear
Warm breath of hot words

XV.

Her tight cunt kisses
His growing pumping cock.
Almost down to tears

XVI.

Just minutes before
Hands gripping tight, holding on
Now she begs to cum

ready for tonight

Tonight I see him again. Get him all to myself for the night and some of the next day as well.

The excitement is nerve-wracking.I really don't know what to do with myself today.

I have already completed all of my preparation last night.

I sat in the tub, razor in hand, stroking my foam legs with a blade, then under the curve of my arms, then this time everywhere, this time, it must all go, tommorow I will be silk.

And tonight when he's holding me by my legs, when I'm grasped between his hands, when he's sliding that hot cock of his in, even as I turn him on with my blatant burning need, I want him to be devastatingly distracted by the smoothness of my skin.

So I spread my pussy lips, the mere touch of my fingers on my lips slowly deepening their color from a pale pink to a deeper purple.

I crafted the razor against me, slowly, carefully, concentrating, studying myself. Enjoying my feel, loving the wash of water as I rinsed, dribbling the water bit by bit on to my clit, turning it into a game, pushing myself to the edge then pulling back.

I've been told that I was born with this soft down of hair all over, just an almost invisible peach fuzz lightly blanketing my whole body.

Tonight, for him, I have shed my baby skin.Tonight, for him, I have shed even my adult skin.

Tonight, for him, I will be raw to his touch.

snippet

'And I know a part of you wants to fuck like this because you feel a little like you shouldn't. Maybe to say I'm... forbidden is too strong.. but still.. i know there is a bit of that..that loves to have me fuck you, cos you're not quite sure if I should'

Fingers already dripping in my cunt, smiling with my head back, moaning a little into the phone with the thrill of his words.

The thrill that he knows this. Turning me on, amused, vulnerable, powerful all at once.

Quietly, matter of fact, almost to myself, I whisper.

'Yes ...you are... my illicit fuck'

Laugh.

'Your what?'

'My illicit fuck.. You're my little secret.'

Breathy chuckle together, as I continue to slide my fingers in and out.

dissapointed

argh.. im so pissed at myself right now.
called him, he was drowsily lounging in bed. sexy morning voice.it was hot as hell, i was horny too, but i couldn't say a word!!
i said i liked picturing him there, lying sleepily, groaning a bit as he tried to wake up. he said he was in the kind of mood where he just wants to be ridden slowly.mmm.and i laughed and said 'yes i'd like to play with you for a bit first though'and then...
nothing. silence. couldn't form a sentence. increasing silence killing me. wanted to just panic and shut the phone. after five minutes of utter quiet, him trying to wake up, and me trying not to pass out (hehe)..
he said, 'you need to talk hon i'm going to fall back asleep otherwise'
but nope. couldn't do it.finally told him i was a bit nervous, couldn't explain why but i was.. i said i was sorry, he said he was sorry if he made me nervous, then he said it's ok, he'll just get up and go eat, wished me a good afternoon. then we said our goodbyes and... voila!
sigh. part of my reason for wanting to do this with him was pushing back fears, and overcoming challenges.. but at times..i lose courage too fast. :(

turquoise bra

You'll have to excuse me, I'm on a bit of a roll today. Reading things around this site has left me horny. And seeing all these pics has left me inspired. So I just fooled around a bit with my webcam.
Besides, there's not enough turquoise in the world. :)

sea spray

her cunt
was a dolphin smile

swimming
unsure circles
around him

his erection
was a fin
for her to grab

a free ride
to skim
in some direction

she liked the lack
of control

if the challenge of the ocean
was in him
then the mystery
in her

smooth
gliding
breast strokes
through
choppy waters

out of all the silver schools
of gleaming fish in the sea
his fervent course
tempted her most

out of all the shells
in his collection
her cockleshell
was the pinkest
and the freshest

earliest
off the shore

to his ear
to hear her wave crash

so receptive

thrown back
if silent too long?

no matter

she asked nothing of him

but to squeal

again
and
again

to wait or not to wait?

just a little pondering...
he thinks it sexy that i masturbate so often, whenever the need comes my way.
but he suggests that if i waited more between my 'sessions' i could feel more. and i could have more pent-up energy for phone sex together or for the times when we get to see each other.
not that he is selfish, he just wants our time together to be as powerful as possible.
as do i.
i realise of course that it is makes sense, it is obvious, that if you resist to touch, first of all the resistance in itself is hot, but also the time when you are finally touched can be more intense.
but i feel too that my masturbation is fuel for my want, it feeds my desires, lets it grow, rather than limit it or provide relief from it.
have you ever started off a day lazily horny, indulged, the indulgence sparked a chain reaction of more 'indulgences'? until by the end of the day, you are just this big tight ball of WANT?
once you pop, you just can't stop? lol. one orgasm is never enough.
isn't it sexy to finally have sex with someone after a day of masturbating to the thought of how that sex is going to be?
it's a bit of a dilemma. of course it's different for everyone, but i would love to hear thoughts on this one.
in your experience, has abstinence lead to stronger orgasms?

solo it is...II

You didn't think I was done, did you?


I continue like that, by now, my back is arching a little so that my hips get unwittingly pushed up.
So different, usually by now, if I had lasted this long, I would be dreaming up dirty thoughts as I stroked myself frantically, the stroking just a way to feed my wanton dreams so that the stroking could be ended. Picturing taboos just to make me cum. Forbidden dreams of strange men in dark corners, complete submission, perverse, dangerous and easy.
But today the touching is a means to its own end; I am immersed in this experience of myself.
I wish you were here with me as I finally place my fingers on my clit. I flick it instead of circles, flick and flick, then suck on my fingers and pat rhythmically up and down on my growing clit, swelling up to my touch. I am beginning to move faster now, I have never felt so in tune with my desire, I am sighing quite loudly, though I hardly ever sigh when I am alone.
And what of my hole, my cunt, my forgotten hole? It has been dripping away to itself the whole time. I do not go to it immediately. I find my inner lips this time; bring those to wetness with a few deft strokes. The wetness pools into the dark wetness that is my opening. I feel myself all over, all around now, blind and wanting to see. Funny, it really is a rosebud; I really am tight circular dewy folds that can be opened petal by petal.
How I picture you inside this bud.
Oh, but time for exploration may be over now, because when I picture you inside me, I let my index finger glide inside me, and then I do not care to find anything else out. I realize what has been missing all along; I only care to be fulfilled. And I know if you were here you would fill me, you would fulfill me, just the sight of you feeling my muscles clench around you would be enough to make me cum. I picture your hot words to me, as I fuck myself, forcing another finger in, and then pumping it in and out, oh maybe I really am as smooth and tight and heated as you say.
Oh yes time for patience is over now, I will cum in the position I want, I flip myself onto my stomach, my two fingers inside me, my other fingers on my clit rubbing in circles, I push up and down, twirling around my fingers, floating on them, oh yes, thrust now for variety, left and right, towards my head, towards my legs, the feeling grows, pounding, pounding yes you are pounding me, remember, remember that experience of us.
I continue to thrust in convulsions as I let it build, stopping every time I am just about to cum, and then beginning again. Each time coming closer and closer, putting off this moment I’ve been waiting for.
But then I cannot prolong anymore, I moan loudly all of a sudden, not because I want to, but because I must, I have reached that highest point without warning. My cunt spasms against my soaked fingers, and then in one swoop every muscle in my body relaxes completely against my hand, jerking a little still onto my hand and traveling up my arm, oh the experience of it..
Do you wish that you could have been there to experience it with me too?

solo it is... I

I have been ‘good’ last night, been ‘good’ all morning, but as soon as I realize that you are not going to be able to call me, I waste no time in taking matters into my own hands.
I strip off my panties quickly and sprawl myself face up on my bed.
Normally I can make myself cum within a few minutes. I can lie on my hand, so that my hand rests on my clit, with the weight of my body pushing against it. And then, rather than move my hand, I can circle my body against my hand, gyrate my ass, soft at first then with just the right amount of back pressure from my fingers, and bam, in a shudder, I am there.
Especially in the state I’m in, it would be too easy.
But I have waited more than eight hours for this and it seems a shame to end it all so fast.
So I lay back, my arms resting parallel to my body, my legs slightly spread and I do not move, I let my thoughts touch me first.
I picture you at my ankles, your fingers briefly encircling my ankles.
I love the thought of you slowly traveling up my legs with your mouth, alternating between my two legs.
Trace of your saliva being dragged up my legs by your lips and then dripping back down with gravity.
And your hands are not idle, they touch between kisses, caress lightly between the places where your salt has traveled.
You move closer and closer up.
I want you to take your time. Because I love the thrill of you focusing on only one part of my body.
There are curves and lines to my limbs, a texture to my skin that I rediscover with you.
My legs will never feel the same after this, months later I will be able to look down at my legs at a random moment, and remember just this instant.
But also the focus is tantalizing because the rest of my body just screams for attention, and every touch wasted on my legs is another touch that has not yet reached my arms, my stomach, my breasts, my neck and of course, waiting warm above you, my cunt.
In my mind now you have reached the part of my legs that is closest to my center. You are lavishing the soft inner parts of my upper thigh with little wet bites. It tickles deliciously, leaves me wanting all over.
I shudder a little and give a low moan at the thought.
My hands are itching to touch myself, so I let them finally, but not directly onto my clit as I usually would.
Instead I explore the outside of my lips. I gently stroke the silk fuzz of hair on my lips with my index finger, up one lip and then down the other…
I have always wanted to be touched just like this. Gingerly discovered just like this. Ventured onto with trembling hands.
I wonder if you would you touch me like this if I asked.
I pet my outer lips for a few more minutes, yes petting is closest to what I am doing, I have formed my fingers into a V and am just moving them up and down, increasing the pressure bit by bit.
I pull the flaps of my lips up in between my fingers; pinch them gently so that the moist inside part of one flesh touches another moist part. It is a new feeling, a new way to touch myself, using one secret part to touch another. They whisper to each other, little beads of whispers, as I slide the pulpy skin between my fingers, rubbing insides against each other.
Every once in a while, I hook a finger in, glide it down the inside of my labia, in between where my hair ends and my untouched tissue begins.
My clit has still been left untouched, but every once in a while as I squeeze my lips together, it gets nuzzled in between, and I get a little shiver of pleasure.
A few shivers later I desire more than that shiver, I wonder how the inside of my lips would feel licking my clit.
So I tug at my elastic skin, pull it over my hood, let my insides kiss my hood, my rawness begins to poke out, meets the other, oh so delicious, oh so good.

epilogue

(...continued from 'in my bedroom')

‘Mmmmmmm’
Pounding heart. Shock of sighs.
‘That was good?’
‘SO good’
Out of me for a wrenching second.
Move onto my back now, you on top.
Then back in me, gently hard.
‘You want a break?’
‘Umm…maybe’
Swivel a little. Sexy circles traced in pools of wetness.
‘Mmmmm’
‘You sure?’
Joint smile. Nerves humming wonderful still
‘mmmm…. no’
Breathy laugh.
‘-cos we can stop’
Little sudden thrust, slight gasp.
‘-no’
Continued motion, tiny arch of back.
‘no what?’
‘no don’t stop’
Soft moving waves.
‘yes don’t stop’
Mmmm don’t stop.
Incoherent tired body. Incoherent thoughts.
Only my cunt coherent, knowing what it wants.
Yes shaft sliding so slow now.
Surprise at how I begin again.
I lick you, my insides still lick you.
I cannot help you now, I cannot strain.
In this moment now, I am all yours, surrendered.
Yes yes keep moving, hips, move your hips, slip your hands under me and hold my hips, hold them up so I can be closer.
Never come out, never come out, glide in as deep as you can, and then glide out but never fully out, always leave a little of your tip, a fraction of your skin raw inside.
Do not leave me now. I need again.
But I cannot help you, my need fragile all in your hands.
All in your cock, in the need of your cock.
Would I be selfish if asked you to…take your need from me?
Come, let’s trade wants.
I will give you all you want.
I want to.
So open, take me, I’m so open
Legs so open, your hands on the insides of my thighs spreading me more open.
How you groan as you move.
And me?
Am I moaning too? Am I sighing?
How long since I haven’t been silent?
Do I ever stop cumming? When did I start?
Tell me all now, my story lies in your cock, your rigid strength will anchor me to this moment, not gentle anymore, intensely hard, even your balls are hard, beginning to fight.
Fight with me now. Yes yes fight with my wetness, it struggles to keep up with you oh.
God yes your force, fingernails on your back, I will scratch you into me, draw you in.
Giving is taking, so dizzy, do I imagine your fluids now?
Is that your precum swapping with my cum?
Lose this fight for me, come with me now.
So lost, head swimming, over and over, it doesn’t stop, lose with me now.
Gushing now, gushing again, losing track, endless river inside, source unknown, keeps cumming, finding the ridges of your cock yet again, splashing onto your head, traveling down your shaft, dripping, will you let me find you now, will you join, will you surge for me, will you give me that as well?
MMMM enter speed now, enter relentless slap of our bodies, mindless yes, move mindless for me now and ohhh yes, I know, know what you are about to give, oh and you are with me yes, your white hot cum swirls with me yes, viscous spurts into my flow yes, wonderful spurts, wonderful, look on your face, wonderful, oh such a thrill, your thrill takes my lungs, takes my head away, an unexpected wave crashes lovely all over me, makes me cum all over again, starting at my head, washing suddenly down.
‘Mmmmmmmmmm’
Pounding hearts. Shock of sighs together.

in my bedroom

(..continued from 'bubbles and candles and fingers.. oh my!')

In my bedroom, time runs to catch up with our night.
We are thankful to be already naked, I am glad to be already dripping from my last orgasm, you are happy to be already so hard.
Still it is not fast enough. This walk to my bed in your arms is too long. My thoughts push me fast; I claw at your back, agitated, thinking only the words please, please, now.
You throw me on my bed, flat on my back, then flip me quickly, grabbing me by the ankles and pulling me towards you. We’re both gasping with impatience now. I perk my ass up towards you, prop myself up on my elbows, waiting incredibly, so empty, moments without you in me, wasted, wasting, wanting, seconds slipping by so slow.
Oh please please fuck me.
I’ve said that out loud, I am so frantic.
I am moaning far before you tell me that you will, that you’re going to, and you’re going to now.
Yes yes do now.
Lord how you roughly spread my legs out from the knees, position yourself behind me, me staring behind desperately, the look on your face mastering me.
Your hands on my hips, your long hard cock pokes at the skin on the round of my ass, twitching silently, making me want to scream if you do not enter me now.
With admirable control, you briefly use my lips, the ones you have rendered wet from before, to lubricate yourself, rubbing firm across me, sliding across my cunt but not in, goddam it not in, though you’re groaning quietly to have it happen too.
Yes, please, just a little more.
Then in me suddenly, a single plunge, lovely feel of easily parting skin, and you’re in me, you’re in me at last, your heat in my heat, oh the relief that is not a relief.
I had thought it would be enough, that if I could just have you stiff in me, that if I could just feel this hot tightness of my stretched drenched tissue…. But there is always more, isn’t there? I am always hungry for more and you know it.
Cos I am pushing ragingly against you. Trying to get your cock touching every last exposed nerve inch of me.
Fuck and I am so enveloped. I envelop only your cock, tightly gripping it, squeezing it with my slippery satin insides, but you, you surround me all over. Your body blankets me, your stomach resting on my back, head on my neck, arms wrapped around me near my breasts, wrapped up warm on the outside, and filled from the inside, all over, all over me, yes, you are all over me.
But I want more, selfish, more than your feel, I want the buildup in the rhythm of your force.
And you give it to me, yes, a pulse of your own, extracting exact pleasure in your gentle pounding.
And your expression speaks for itself, tells me of the pleasure I can give to you.
Knowing that drives me to wildness too soon, as you continue to move in and out of me, my syncopated screams sounding in the air.
But then, even my writhing madness is not enough; I go past even that, as I am lifted higher into… utter relaxation.
I do not look anymore, elbows long collapsed, chin surrendered on my pillow as you thrust, tiny grunt at the end of your each lunge, letting your frequency build, resonating to the desire in your motion.
Building now, building, blankly building.
In a split moment of calm, I see an edge coming.
And then all I know is that we are liquid now, think liquid again now because you can feel it, and it washes you, bathes your cock, burning, and then think past liquid now, far beyond boiling point now, the smell of my fluid seeping out onto my bed, vapor of our sex, cumming for you.
But never enough, it is never enough, always just a little more.
In my bedroom, time is all night.

(...continued in 'epilogue')

bubbles and candles and fingers.. oh my!

You’ve wanted me all night long. But still I make you wait.

Finally, I call you into my bathroom. You find me in the flickering candlelight, waiting for you in the bathtub naked under a sea of foam.

You smile a bit at the corniness of the set-up, but I am bubbling inside, dying to see how we can give this our own spin.

You begin to strip out of your clothes. I stop you just as you make to join me in the water, ask for you to step back and wait.

You’ve wanted me all night.

I’ve wanted too, but I’ll wait.

You wait with a twisted smile, your bare back resting against the porcelain of my sink, mirror behind you, me in front.

I rise up out of the water with a little splash, water cascading rapidly down me, watching my image behind you in the mirror. The soft light rounds my curves, there is wet glistening in drops all over me, persisting bubbles nestled in the chalices of my body, whispering goodbye with little pops.

I stand before you, almost defiant, my shoulders back, begging to be taken in.

Then I rest back against my shower wall, facing you but leaning away, your lean naked body tilting away from me too, our bodies in a triangle pointing to our feet.

I watch the shifting sinews in your neck; eat up the hunger in your eyes, the hunger that must be in mine. In the tense quiet, I swear I hear the hint of a groan under your breath.

We’ve wanted for so long.

I move away from the wall finally, reach over to the candles waiting on the side of the tub.

I grip the metal base of the slender candlesticks, a candle long in each hand.

And start to move. Awkward at first but gathering grace, the candles slowly start to dance in my hands, the closeness of the light highlighting areas of my body. You catch flashes of hard nipple, luminous stretches of wet stomach, protruding hip swaying faintly left and right. Hot candles cross over at my breasts. Melting wax dribbles onto me in little bursts of exhilarating pain. Extended shadows do their ballet across the glow of my skin. My hand slides the two candlesticks as far as I can parallel down each leg, darkness tracing my arms, playing with my neck.

I know the image I am painting for you, know because I can make me out in the mirror, but also because I can feel it in my head, see it in your stare.

Are you thinking of how this must feel for me? Can you imagine the heat of the flames licking so close to my nerve endings, the contrast with the ice of the metal base that I touch to my skin?

I had meant to tease you, but I begin to lose myself in my own tease, smoldering in my own lonely dance, aching for more.

Your presence here, watching me, teases me most of all.

Echoing in the confined space, my quiet breathing begins to amplify into unwilling little gasps.

You have moved sideways now, resting against the bathroom door, listening to me. If you look quickly left and right you can almost catch my reflection and I, a double vision, moving together in harmony, only the candlelight more diffuse in the mirror.

I watch you too; you are a wonder to behold, your eyes closing from time to time, your broad chest expanding as your lungs fight for breath, your hand occasionally reaching down to the excitement of your growth.

I try to take it all in but it is too much; my head lolls back from you as I begin to gradually slip away.

My candlesticks painstakingly will themselves downwards, start searching out what I really want.

I sigh.

You moan.

Time is ready now; the moment is intolerable now for the both of us.

We’ve wanted this all night and we can’t wait anymore.

You step into my tub without a word, face grim with purpose, feet in the now lukewarm water of the bath.

I back up against the wall, excited by your approach, wanting this so bad, but loath to end the insufferable tension of this moment, loath to hand over my control.

You stand so close to me. I have put down one candle, but the other candle is still in my hand, the one candle I still cannot give up. Only a candle width between us now, I move my hand with painful slowness, so close I am afraid of burning us, so close the wax mingles between us, is joined by your hand, our hands on the candle moving, now on your leg, now on mine, now on my neck, now on your chest, now finally only in your hands, now down on your knees, now only the metal touching above my knees, between my legs, the flame tantalizing on my stomach.

You rest the edge of the stiff metal gently between my lips. I part my legs slightly for you, anticipating your next move, a brief whimper escaping from my mouth. You take your time, staying still, watching my trembling body strain against the silver.

So cold against me. It makes me yearn for your warmth, but I am pinned by your deliberation, unable to move. You blow the candle out and remove it from the holder, throwing it aside. Now gripping only the candlestick, you control its round end, sliding it up and down my damp lips, just short of inside me.

Oh to finally feel that motion, it triggers an instant moan as I feel my center begin to melt. I push down against you at once, angling my hips, but you pull back with a smile, holding the stick still, this time gliding your fingers lightly from my ass towards the base of my fleshy lips, and then upwards towards my desire.

Oh and now finally on my clit, tenderly flicking my clit with your finger, flicking, then circling. Sliding, flicking, then circling. And before I can even absorb that, before I can even grasp that, the sudden push of your hand so that the candlestick is in me; how I capture it ready and wet, don’t want it to leave. Oh and your fingers on me still. And the metal beginning to move in and out. And oh your mouth, oh wet kisses on my stomach, oh wet metal dark inside, oh dark metal wetly out, and oh oh oh fingers tickling my sticky spot.

My cries leave me weak, I begin my slump, my descent down the wall, unable to hold myself up for much longer.

You growl suddenly, your desire thrown tangible from your throat. You grab me and prop me down on the end of the tub so I can sit with my back against the wall. The thrill of your swift motion, the determined intent of your muscles, courses through me, abandoning me to further weakness.

You dislodge the plug, and soapy water begins to drain, allowing you to perch lower below me, closer to my swollen clit and unfolding hole. I push myself out towards you, arms extended back, hands flatly gripping the wall behind.

The gurgling sound of water draining is no competition for my growing screams, because candlesticks have been forgotten, splatters of solidified wax lie forgotten on our bodies, there is only your fingers and oh they have finally thrust into me, finally entered, finally to find you here; and you know, know that it is not enough, know that you must go deeper, and then slower, and then faster, know that you must stop and begin again; and then know that you must not stop, must never ever ever stop.

And you do not, oh you do not, and my sodden wet insides clamp onto your fingers, my hands on the part of your hands playing outside, wanting to feel it with you, and oh how you know where to travel, because even as I feel I cannot take anymore, grooves in me continue to transform into hot liquid for you, dribbling down, my cum collecting in the webs between your fingers.

And then finally I cannot even scream anymore, my mouth open, trying to breathe, my eyes screwed shut, my head thrown back, you know to move as fast as you can, and you do, do, do, faster, faster, then even faster still, and then one last deep, and yes………

I come with one massive shudder all over your hands.


Then, before I can recover, my body still shaking and shuddering, you lift me up into your arms and step out of the tub. In a daze, my mind races with thoughts of my lingering orgasm, thoughts of your hardness, of your still pulsating want waiting below me, thinking of what is yet to come, and I smile to myself, as you carry me into my bedroom.

(...continued in 'in my bedroom')

a fantasy...V

Oh but he remembered it well.

He remembered how finally anger had become his only god. How he had not given up, searched and searched all of her dripping folds, empowered himself with his selfish desire so that it became too big for the both of them.

Possessing her was instinct, possessing her was survival.

He remembered how his motion had become a blur until he could not know if he was in or out. Could not know if she had stopped cumming or if she shook and spasmed there still. Could not know and could not care. Inertia was on his side, stamina was on his side, he could move forever, and only sheer time could give him what just wanting could not.

He could not remember in that moment when he finally knew her, if she had shrieked piercingly or become suddenly silent. He remembered only the collapse, that she had collapsed finally onto him, crumpled and become void.

He remembered that they had both fallen backwards onto the ground. He had not remembered cumming at the time but he had felt the small of her back stained and sticky with his cum.

And he will always remember that look on her face. For her tired smile was no longer secret, and her dazed honey eyes were not hidden, and that body that trembled and shuddered was his his his, his forever.

Oh yes he remembered it. How he remembered that first night. How finally, both gasping for air, both frantic for an anchor to ground them back to this earth, their lips had met and they had become equals.

a fantasy... IV

Yes he remembered it well.

How he had hated her for her power. How he'd dragged her upwards from her knees and thrown her face first against his wall. She had only cried out once. She had been so limp with desire, he had had to hold up every inch of her ragdoll body. And still she had held control. Control as he penetrated her in one swift move. Control as he thrust into her. Control because she wanted it and she could abandon herself so completely to it.

And he had hated her so much. So much hate for this goddess who grew in strength so impossibly along with his cock. The bigger and harder he had grown inside her, the tighter she had become, the softer and faster she had absorbed. His soul had shrank, he had become weaker and weaker, more filled with wonder and reverence. So much to give. She was boundless like the earth, in a way he could never understand. She opened and she opened and she opened. And she flowed and she flowed and she flowed.

And he had hated her for it. He had wanted to trample her, wanted to blaspheme against her, wanted to curse her, to make her nothing, to make her less than nothing, to make her his. Because sin was certain, because idols were made to be shattered, because worship was a suspension of disbelief his ego could hold onto for only so long. Only so long before he disappeared completely into her.

And he remembered how he had tried to barge in as deep as he possibly could into her, searching for a place, just a little intersection in her nerves he could call his. A tiny address to which he could lay claim. He would have impaled her completely, held her up with his cock if he could, but she was so divinely slippery, he went in and he kept falling out, he drove in and kept getting thrown out. How he had slammed her against his wall, how she had happily let him bruise that beautiful body, making him even angrier and angrier still. And she had screamed and she had moaned and she had groaned, but still a secret scream, a secret moan, a secret groan, and still she had been hers and hers alone.

a fantasy...III

Oh how he remembered it all.

Naked before him now, he had been nearly overwhelmed by the need for supplication at her feet, she was so impossible. He had been fully clothed still, and she had been stark but for the stealthy smirk of her lips, and he had never felt more exposed.

How he remembered the glow of her skin skulking underneath, the straightness of her back, the welcome of her breasts, those hard coffee nipples, pulsing with his desire, completely holding his desire in her hands, and knowing it too.

His first venture onto her had been a hesitant prayer, he had tried to touch every part of her, had tried to suck every sacred part of her as she stood there, but it had been too much. His fingers had scrambled in between her legs too soon, and she didn't seem to have cared, seemed to have guessed, because she had been waiting, and she had been deliciously moist and willing, rolling covertly in her own pleasure .

Oh that urge to worship her, oh that urge to go on his knees and bow his head, he had fought it, but she had taken over his living room, washed over him, swimming, as she anointed his hand with her wetness.

Then just as his knees had started to buckle, just as her moans had started to echo off his own like in a cathedral, she had grabbed him and pushed him against his wall. And unbelievably gotten down on her knees. Undeniably on her knees, the blessed inspiration of it. Her shoving his pants down, the wonder of it. Her finding him, her immortal mouth on his head oh, the lovely dirty miracle of it. And it hadn't been just her liquid luminescent lips and tongue that had blown him, her shining eyes had blown him, the tan rounds of her stripped shoulders had blown him, the hunch of her back, the curve of her stomach, every itch, every motion, every tinge of herself had blown him away. She had grapsed him so snugly and so smoothly he had felt himself slowly chipping away. Etching away at the seams, thinking of coming death, thinking noone had told him death could feel so good. How unworthy he had felt. Not proud at all, him towering over her, but her spinning him deeper and deeper into her power with every bob of her head.

a fantasy... II

He remembered it well, how it had all unraveled so rapidly, the way she had wanted it to.

They had grown silent, and the air had grown thick again, like in the elevator. The distance between them had shrank and shrank though they had never moved. He had become convinced that she could feel his every thought. That if he were to just lift his hand up and slide it down his vision of her, caress it down his point of view, she might even give a shudder.

He remembered how finally he had given up all thought, and moved towards her. Suddenly closing that physical distance between them, he had been alarmed to find there was still a dizzying depth to cover, a long way to fall. Down the length of every strand of her long molasses brown hair, round and round the circumference of her proud waist.

But her quirky secret lips had smiled again and taken control. He had found himself wrapping his arms around that waist and dancing with her. Then not dancing at all, not moving in fact, just trapped in the weave of her body, her embrace mastering him. His fingers slowly tracing the patterns on her golden dress that she had chosen for the night.

How calm she had been. How unsurprised. If she had trembled, it had been a part of her design. Her little sigh, her breath tickling his ear, all her own inevitability. Then she had spoken only once, she had said only once, and she had asked for only one thing: for him to take off her dress.

He knew that it had been him who had slid her zipper down slowly, him who had spun her back towards him suddenly so that he could drag it all the way down. Him who had kicked her dress away. Him who had been unable to stop until her bra was off and then the rest of it too. He was sure it had been him.

a fantasy...I

He remembered that first night well.

How they had gone up to his apartment in the elevator that had been empty but for them. How they had stood side by side, close in the confined space, but not close enough. That tiny little rectangular gap of air formed by her right arm, moving across their shoulders, and down his left arm. How he had wished the ride would end.

He remembered it well. How could he forget?

What right had she had to be standing there like that in his living room? Why had she been there at all anyways? It certainly hadn't been that fabulous latte he had claimed only he could make.

It had seemed to him that she had listened to his light banter like a performance. She had been attentive but uninvolved, smiling slyly, saying little, sipping his coffee demurely, waiting for it all to end so she could clap.

She had stood there relaxed, the tension in her body an art. An artifice to keep her reined in, to make it evermore beautiful should she ever burst out. Those gorgeous muscles shifting, the haunting hollow of her throat forming and reforming. This honeydew apparition flickering in his living room, bits of her disappearing and reappearing again. He had wanted to linger on the straight lines of her legs and arms, measure the angles of her discreet corners. But her amber eyes would fix on him, curious, closed, bright and knowing. And his appraisal of her would become blurred, he would have to start all over again.

how you trickle... II

Or how you sat near the television, resting against the couch, your body folded in two, inviting, asking to be sat on.
Do you really think I will be able to see my living room every day and not think of this?
Am I not going to remember how I straddled you, dangled myself over you, nipples poking out from the fabric of my nightie, inches away from your mouth?
It felt so good to want to have you again. I loved the shock of sitting on your cock. I loved how quickly it could happen, with little preamble, you just pulled it out and I eased myself down. One minute playing videogames, the next fucking again.
Then you pushed me backwards from the sitting position, so I fell back and you fell onto me, your cock still inside. Fucked me like that until we had to go to my bedroom again.
You had fucked me already in my bedroom before the video games, fucked me wonderfully, taunted me first, asked me to talk to you as your fingers explored my folds, asked me to tell you how long my day had been waiting for you. I was too far gone for thought, never mind for it to venture out in speech. Don’t even know what I said, or if I said anything at all, though I must have, because you threatened to remove your fingers from my sticky cunt if I didn’t and I was panicking not to have it happen, my panic slipping words further from me, until I was writhing with the pain of the effort, almost but not quite despising you for putting me through this.
And then I don’t even remember how you entered me the first time, it is just a blur of slippery positions, I am on all fours, I am lying flat on my stomach with you on top, completely overpowered by you, twice like that, the last time flooding at me amazingly, the last time making me dip my finger into myself to feel the extent of my flow.
Back on my back, was it then or was it later, that you said, a little surprised:
‘I really do enjoy the simple things with you’
Yes, simple yes, I like it too, I want to feel the basics first, I am in wonder about the basics still. Maybe sometimes with simple, you can draw more of the flavor out.
I can cum just from the thought of how delicious your cock felt warm in me, just focusing on my wetness stroking you I could cum, as I did, I came in little spurts onto your cock, And I remember when we really began to move, really find our own rhythm.
You grew so big I could feel my cunt struggling to clench onto you still as it spasmed. And you screamed right before you were about to cum, and I echoed you without even realizing it, I barked out a scream, cut it short because I was surprised by how loud it was. Then as the whole bed moved, we let loose together, one last gasp together, and we were left utterly satisfied.
There is so much more to remember. Our night and the next morning have more than I can fit in a day of thinking about sex with you.

how you trickle...I

Sex trickles from my brain onto everything this past week and I do not know whether to blame you or thank you for it.
I do not yet know how to cultivate my want, hold it all in, keep it growing so that I can release it in full at a better time.
It drips out, I cannot hold it, I try, and there is too much pressure, valves I cannot close, I irrigate my life little by little with sex.
I cannot focus it, it permeates a little bit of everything, has its hand in every little of my actions.
I walk into my room, turn on the lights in my room, the plastic switch, flick, against skin of my fingers, click, thought of your fingers on my clit, a tiny inward tightening in my heartbeat.
You think I am exaggerating.
The day you were to arrive, sitting in class, thoughts of wanting you so strong, it made me want anything, the scratch of meaningless pencil notes on paper was sexy, and the back of the neck of the guy sitting innocently in front of me was oh so sexy. I tried not to stare, but it was so smooth and a gorgeous tan brown, and his hairline ended with this fascinating golden fuzz. I thought of how it would feel to touch it, if it would be soft or prickly. If only my teeth could tickle it, a drop of saliva dribbling out, wetly smoothing his short spiky hair down.
And to sit there and not do a thing at all. I had to let a little of it out in my mind.
Felt so tactile, transferred it onto others, everything begged to be touched, when really it was me who needed the touching.
And now that you have come and gone, you have taken over my whole house.
Who knows what will spark it next? There is the whir of my fan, bed sheets, videogames we played, my piano, there is the feta cheese we ate still left in my fridge.
You’ve touched a little bit of everything in here, how do you expect me now to be free?
My mind is leaking sex, the way my body did onto your fingers, so instantly, when I was pushed up against my living room wall by you.
Your face was so close, and I was begging so hard for more, you kissed me once, shortly, pulling away to move on to where I needed you.
You knew the respite I wanted, there was nothing underneath my shorts and tank top, you reached me easily and I was already wet.
‘Oh you poor thing’ you murmured as you stroked me, ‘poor thing’
After two weeks of waiting, I was already wet from the instant you walked in through the door. Everything after was unbearable.
To finally have you in my house, unbearable.
To have you in my kitchen, minutes before the living room, unbearable.
I leaned against the sink, knife in hand, chopping herbs for you, and you were behind me suddenly. A hint of your hardness against my ass. The relief of your body resting vertical against me. I loved the resistance I tried to put up, because it was fleeting, because it melted before it started. Loved the contrast, our light conversation against the weight of your push, the discrepancy between my burst of desire and the even measured way I tried to continue to move my knife against the grain of the green on the cutting board. Then I gave up completely, and ground myself backwards against you, started to spread my legs already, saw my vague reflection on the balcony door, knew that the neighbors could look out any second and see me recklessly lustful, rubbing against you.

more thoughts of first time

Out of the box now, my memory breaks. That central nerve on my spinal cord controls me now, my organic instinct, responding becomes almost a reflex.
To feel like gritty guts with someone so fast...
My voice finally breaks loose from my breath with a sigh. How it thrills me to hear it, how I hope it thrills you, how I continue my noises, each sound encouraging you but also encouraging me.
Your fingers have rubbed onto me there gently, I am just listening helplessly for it all now, cannot even process it all anymore.
My hope is that you will find me inside and you do, you most deliciously certainly do.
Finally tugging my panties off, feeling them damp and scrunched up in my hands as I throw them to the side. Easily in me, wet hidden skin, as though the inside of my lips has been crying to be touched, but not tears, never tears, just my sweet salty liquid that ventures out in moments like these.
Other moments now.
Look on your face, your noise, as your fingers go everywhere inside at exactly the right time.
Delicious moment as your hand trails away from inside me and I realize suddenly that flush of hot stickiness I have left to mark your trail.
Asking me to lie on my stomach.
Sexy grabs, surprising me, putting me right where I want, pinned by your desire, feeling cut loose.
Waking up slowly to discover your hardness.
Grinding into you, the shock of you, yes now yes it is always easy. Too easy now to pull down my shorts and penetrate in. So wonderfully easy.
Moving slow when you want to move fast.

how it all began

For a long moment I am in a box with nothing but my forehead and your fingers moving across it onto my hair. Keeping the pressure of your thumb on the corner of my eyebrow, your index finger sweeps diagonally up onto my tightly pulled back strands of hair.
There is a strong deliberation to your movements that I find wildly distracting. I have forgotten that I had been touching your back, my hand still moves I think, but really I am just thinking of the finger. I concentrate intensely on it, loath for every millisecond of mind wandering that loses the full effect of your trajectory. I wait desperately to catch the beginning of the path your finger takes, not wanting to miss the middle, savoring the end when it begins again, my heartbeat rising with it.
How I’ve wanted you, but I find myself hesitating, wondering where this will lead us.
My resistance shatters slowly in four crystal phases of breathing.
I breathe quietly, know you can’t hear.
Your hands on my bare back.
I breathe louder, hope you don’t hear.
I reach for below your shirt right where your skin rests above your shorts.
I breathe louder, abandon myself to being heard.
Your hands on my legs now.
I breathe loudly, I want you to hear me. So that you don’t stop.
And I am free.
I haven’t looked at you in so long. I wonder at the untouched spots you seem to be finding on me. I am awash with curiosity, fascinated by how I’m responding, intrigued about where you’re traveling.
As you touch this place and that, I am connect-the-dots, I am rainbow-brite, I am alight and flickering in parts all over, your hand moving on from one spot but my mind not forgetting any until I feel like from the inside I am one of those satellite images of New York that can be seen from space.

Oh and finally on my shorts, your shorts, my shorts. Finally to find you there.

No no no I could never be uncomfortable at a time like this.