Waking

We giggled together, rolling over, pinning each other playfully. We'd take breaks for deep, throbbing kisses. The "breaks" became near continuous, the gentle dominance play falling away. Sex was not part of the evening's agenda, but I could not help responding to those lingering kisses. Your fingers grazed the delicate skin found at the bend of elbow and wrist, breaking a gasp from my lips. You let your hands run over the skin on my torso, my hips, but not my breasts, not delving past the line of my pants. I knew the mood was exploratory. I knew the caresses weren't to lead to anything further. Your touch was beautiful torture, hands and lips lighting me on fire. I fought the rising hunger. I fought the burning. I fought the urge to push your hands between my legs. You needed sleep. So did I.

Hours later, the room dark and drowsy, I feel you move and wake a little. Eyes shut, I hear, "hmmmm," deep and low. More movement. Somehow your hands are between my legs, and I am wet for you. I writhe against you, the dormant desire aroused earlier again roaring to life. The mood no longer exploratory, instead informed by lust, you push into me, past me, rolling me under and over. Sleep fogged, the sensations rise as though they have been submerged. Each exquisite touch emerges from those liquid depths, encountering no resistance. Your eyes, there they are. Look at me. Love my pleasure pain. I'm fighting it. I'm fighting losing myself so completely here in front of you. "Come for me," you say.
Ok.
I let go, drowning. No air, no tactile senses, only you. You and those eyes.

Random

I’m attracted to corporeal sensation. I write as if I’m imagining that I can contain the tactile feeling of blood driving through my veins in each sentence; as if I could encapsulate the minute fireworks of each exquisite orgasm in these words. It will not happen. I yearn to describe, but only what cannot be accurately captured. I hate trite description: his engorged member, her heaving bosom. Never.

Let liquid language flow instead. I like to marinate in words. I choose writers accordingly. So few maintain a liquid flow I can immerse myself in.

I want my sex to be all consuming, my reading to be all consuming, but never my love. I do not want an all-consuming love. I feel that a love like that eats your life. I want someone I can share life with, not someone that swallows it for me. I hate what I’m feeling now, as much as I love it. My thoughts rarely stray from her. I despise the hours after I leave her. I ache with missing her, with fear that I will not see her again soon enough. The adjustment period owns me. Life seems a paltry thing without her ever-living fire next to me. Music does not move me, infectious smiles do not reach me, nothing pleases me without her presence.

Self-exploration

Hot hot heat today. Body temperature rising, all reason lost with the increase. Open windows provide no relief, air still. Heat throbs in me. Jeans come off, peeled from skin. Damned detestable stickiness. Cooler air embraces limbs, legs bare right up to the lace of black panties. Cross-legged on the couch in camisole and panties. Desire is intense today, combined with tension of being caught.

Fingertips trace lips, sensitized surfaces outlining each other. Teeth graze fingerprints, gliding across tongue wetted skin. Tongue tip licks up salt, savoring the flavor. Fingers trace down the skin of a delicate chin, skimming downy hairs on the sensitive neck, hand delving between pert breasts. Breasts slowly palmed, one, then the other. Unbearable electric thrill from a brush of a nipple. Slowly, slowly. Short nails pass over skin, tracing down a ticklish side, running across the bump of a hip, dipping down to the hollow at the junction of the thigh. Hand stills there, presses gently, evoking instant charged desire. Hips rise lustily to meet the downward swoop of the hand brushing scant pubic hair. Fingers spread to cup the softness found there, to follow folded curves. Hand damp, exploring. Hand wet, plunged deep. Low, heated noises: moans, sighs, whimpers, murmurs. More. Body rising, heat rising. Tension building in the legs, body shaking with it. Explosive moment of clarity. Knees weak, breath labored. Coming down. Breath slowed.