More Words from the Personal Writing Archive

making love

(warning, somewhat explicit)

We face each other, and there is a charge in the air.  The culmination of anticipation.  Your arms come around me, and you lower your head in what feels like slow motion until your mouth touches mine. I open mine, expecting the kiss, your tongue, pressing against me.  But instead your hover, just barely touching, a hair too far away for me to reach.  I feel the whimper in the back of my throat, and though I don’t make a sound, I can feel you smile.  Your tongue flicks out once twice, barely teasing.  And then your head descends that last inch, and your mouth consumes mine.  I wrap my arms around you, and I feel your hands moving up and down along my arms before your hands move to my hair and grab two fistfuls.


We dance this way, standing flush against each other, kissing, teasing, coming together, pulling subtly apart.  I can feel you hard against me, and my breath catches when your hand eases up my ribcage and stops just short.  You pull away slightly, and you look at me in the way you always look at me…as if you truly see me, truly want to see me.  Then we kiss again.


When you direct me to sit on the bed, I smile.  You crouch on one knee and slip off first one shoe and then the other, kissing my ankle, my shin, my instep.  Then you lay me onto the spread and cover me; I so love it when you cover me.  You continue to kiss me and run your fingers through my hair, pulling back to gaze at me in a way that makes me melt.  You sit up and pull your shirt off in a swift motion, and I do the same.  Soon we are both naked.


As I lay back, you lie over and beside me, your fingertips tracing paths down my arms, across my collarbone, between my breasts.  You watch my body and your hand, and I watch you.  Your hands are a man’s hands – a real man’s hands.  And yet the touch is so gentle.  Goosebumps appear in their wake, and my body arches.  Finally a finger circles first one nipple and then the other.  I feel the touch deep inside.  You seem fascinated by the way my breasts look and feel, the way the pink buds pucker under your touch.  And then you lean down to lick one, then the other.  Back and forth your mouth moves, adding a kiss, a lick, before taking it fully into your mouth.  And though I want to watch, my body arches and my head falls back, overwhelmed by the sensations.


Your hands moves as your mouth sucks.  You are in no rush.  You trace up one thigh and down the other.  Then you reverse  Your fingertips graze the hair between them, but you do not touch yet.  I whimper a bit, wanting you to touch me, but I am patient because I love this slow slow journey.  I love the wonder that you seem to have over my body, the way it makes me feel beautiful.  I love the feel of your skin under my fingertips, the long line of your back, your chest, the way your nipples also pucker under my touch.  The soft feel of your hair as I reach behind your head and hold you to me.


You suck in a rhythm, and every few seconds I feel the sharpness of your teeth.  My hips move because they have to move, but you do not stop. You draw out every sensation.  I feel your mouth move to my neck, my chin, my ear.  Your hand slips downward again and this time I feel you slide between my thighs and touch the wetness there. Your finger slides up and down, then finds that bundle of nerves and presses, flicks, circles, until I am writhing and wound tightly and on fire.  You continue to move your finger and your tongue in rhythm until I feel myself rise inside and crash over the peak.  Every spasm  feel like something for which a word hasn’t been invented.  Your mouth moves to mine and you hold my chin and throat in place as you kiss me hard, sucking and invading with your tongue.


Then I feel you press and slide against my opening.  Your hand moves between us, and you guide yourself inside.  I can feel every inch of you as you slide in and out, in and out, holding me closely.  You tell me to look at you, and I see the intensity in your eyes.  The blue is almost swallowed up in black, and you continue to move.  In and out, side to side, around, touching every part of me.  Words of passion and lust and love pour out of my mouth because they have to, and you respond in kind.  I want to touch your face, your shoulders, to kiss you.  You shift, placing a hand under each buttock, and you fuck me in earnest.  I feel every slap against me, and I feel you inside me, faster and harder.  I arch my neck backwards as the wave overtakes me again, and I cry out, not caring who hears.  I feel your body tense, and I open my eyes. You hold me in place, pinning me with your gaze.  I see your face become taut, and I see you approaching your own peak.


And then that primal groan.  The sounds fills my ears and makes me feel powerful and victorious and passionate, and I feel the heat inside me.  And when you fall against me, I feel covered and held and protected and sated.  I love lying there as we recover, listening to our breathing and feeling you twitch inside me as your body comes down from its climax.


We never fully disconnect as you raise up off me, and you pull me into your arms where I can curl up and smell that smell of YOU in the crook of your shoulder.


It is perfect.  It is bliss.  It is everything I dreamed.


2 thoughts on “More Words from the Personal Writing Archive

  1. Seriously enjoyed reading this! Your writing style is very engaging and fun to read! Thanks so much for sharing. 🙂
    You might also enjoy my blog, check it out if you get a chance.


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