Sometimes the thoughts come. In a rush
I see it clearly.
The bed, a tangle of sheets and limbs. Skin striped by the shafts of light finding their way through the slatted shades.
I am on my back and you are before me. Caressing me. Pinching me. Licking me. Making every sense sing with your attentions.
I am on fire, with you.
I look up at you and see the same fevered arousal in your eyes that I know has softened my own. I reach out and touch your chest, lazily stroking downward.
Touching you. Feeling you and how hard you are. How much you want me.
Your fingers have already discovered just how much I want you.
You flip me over, have me kneeling on the bed. My breasts are flat against the sheet, my arse is in the air. My hands are stretched out in front of me. Clutching. Beseeching. My thighs delightfully wide. For your pleasure
Your thrust takes my breath away. Your skin against mine as you take your time. Your hands gripping my hips. Your strokes, blissfully slow. Full. Measured.
I feel one hand slide upward to palm my breast. To squeeze my nipple. The other sliding downward to find my sex. Probing. Circling. Your movements synchronised with your thrusts.
You pull me up, my back against your chest.
My arousal is a delicious torture. I can feel it building. Stroke by stroke.
I can’t help but push backward, to take more of you, to feel you closer.
Your thrusts become faster now. Gaining momentum
I’m lost in the sensations. Your hands on me. You inside me, filling me.
Nothing else matters.
Just us. And this thrilling, euphoric union.
*This story short was posted last year but I like it and thought I’d give it another outing. I beg the indulgence of those who have read before and hope any new readers enjoy.
Photograph taken from Tumblr