Wednesday 1 December 2010

I miss you

 ... and suddenly she was there, enveloping me into her flesh, on to her breasts and pressing me against them... she was all scent and femininity and reassurance. I curled in around her, foetal yet innately animalistic, our breaths deepening as the silence between us spoke volumes. Her arms were one around my waist to press and stroke my back and the other with fingers entangled in my hair, binding me to her tightly with a caring grip.

As time went by my fingers dared to travel between the fabric folds of her clothing and underneath to seek out the warm, soft skin beneath. My finger pads stroking in circles, moving from comfort to a touch of sexual need.

I dared to dream to put my mouth to her neck where my face lay against her, feeling her pulse against my lips, kissing so softly with butterfly kisses then circling a wetness and testing my teeth against her fragile skin there of porcelain hue.


Her head turned so her face was nose to nose with mine and her mouth sought my hungry one. We connected like that, all lips, tongues and teeth, in a rare flash of pure, unadulterated raw lust and desire, what we had both been needing for so long.


Hands and fingers getting wilder and exploring the increasing warmth, feeling our way with eyes sometimes squeezed tightly shut in the throes of passion, sometimes open and searching each other's soul for the reassurance that it's all wanted, needed... Clothes laying half on, half off and strewn over the floor and tangled in sheets.


It was once I was naked I straddled her and raised her arms above her head, pinning her like that, one of my hands holding her wrists crossed above her, with her hair trapping her yet further by laying beneath this show of authority.


She knows the look in my eye well and her breath quickens; her body writhes beneath me in a delicious twist of hesitance and violent want. I can see her too, the real her; wanting to be stripped and taken and her resistance forced down, for her to be kissed and tongued, told and abused, filled, satisfied, hurt, made to cry the delicious tears of submission and release within that cushioned acceptance and surrender.


I want her to orgasm for me. I want her to, whether she wants it or not. 


She will. The night is still young and I will have her, all of her.



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