It’s been a very busy week for me, with more work piling up in the foreseeable future. Some of it deals with some next steps career-wise. It’s mostly all very exciting. All this work leaves me with less time for writing... BTW, can someone explain to me how Obama’s advocating for the Olympics can be spun as a political setback? C’mon now!
The following shouldn’t be read by minors or people easily insulted by frank, open, sexual talk...
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-=[ Impressions ]=-
My attention was focused on her, and I noticed a new, more controlled energy, one whose borders kept withdrawing from my own.
“Yes,” she said faintly. And that one word expressed everything she was feeling: fear, love, lust, want, desire -- all rolled into one syllable and it incited me.
“I love you,” I said, my hand inching higher. “And you love me.”
My thumb nudged the swell of her breast, rubbed slowly back and forth, a sleepy rhythm. Her head drooped to one side as if her attention had been attracted by a faint sound on the other side of the room, and I kissed the juncture where her neck and shoulder joined. The cool blue taste of peppermint soap and the warmth of her skin mixed on my tongue.
I looked deeply into her eyes as I undid her blouse. She started to say something, but it became only a sound that died in the back of her throat. I spread the halves of her blouse, bent to her breasts, nuzzled them, and kissed their tips, teasing the nipples hard. When I took one in my mouth, worked it gently with my teeth, she shuddered, and put her hands on the back of my head, guiding me.
“Wait,” she said. “Wait.”
But I was through waiting and drew her down on the edge of the bed, my hand moving to the swell of her belly, lower, feeling the softness beneath her clothes, knowing she was open, ready.
“Wait!” This time sharp, so I stopped thinking I had hurt her or had inadvertently trespassed some forbidden zone.
“Let me take this off,” and with that she discarded her panties, pulled off the covers of the bed and with a kiss invited me in with her. There under the covers of the blankets, in the half dark with air as still as held breath, I felt more connected to her, more alive. Her body was aglow with dampness, her eyes were gleams. I kneeled between her legs, bent lower and tasted her. Tasted her, exploring the folds of her cunt, lapping at her, imagining honey smearing my mouth. She began to move and I could tell how much she wanted this, how gloried it made her feel.
Her hips bucked, her legs clamped my head. Breath knocked out of her in hoarse gasps. The muscles of her stomach bunched, and she wrapped her hands in my hair, holding me immobile, as if I were to take my mouth away, or do anything more, she would break into pieces.
In her mind, there was a flurrying as of a million fish responding to a danger sign, scattering, their space filled by a cool current, a refreshing, tingling wash.
* * *
“Yes… ” she said.
The submissive demureness in her voice aroused me and I entered her. Obeying an impulse, I pushed into her mind as well, establishing a blazing mental circuit. Not knowing what I was doing, I pushed at it with all my strength. At the moment of contact I had an impression of two streams of crackling energy knitting together, entwining, tightening, forming a kind of liquid knot that grew increasingly complex, twisting in and of itself, and my focus became more limited to completing that knot, to finding its ultimate expression, until even that intent was swallowed into a blaze of sexuality.
Like a man clutching at a live wire, my thoughts sparking, conscious only of the voltage coursing through me.
My body was electrified, my movements seemingly following the twists and turns of the electric knot we were weaving inside each other’s heads, and from that point on, swearing to myself, I was aware of what was happening only in the lapses of that connection.
I would find myself battering her from behind, or pinning her wrists above her head, or that she had mounted me and was raking across my chest with her nails. On and on into the night…
Brutal, sweaty, animal sex.
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