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Scene from the bedroom(mm)
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Subject: Scene From The Bedroom (m/f)
Reply-To: [email protected] (TropicCool)
Date: Mon Jul 10 02:21:03 1995
I lean forward, hands on the thick painted white windowsill, feet spread
slightly on the hardwood of the floor. My head down, as the air pushes
the
curtains ... framing the open sash and my hair falling in simple long
waves.
Eyes closed, I listen to the night voices of the city. I feel the air on
my
arms, the back of my neck, down my spine, and thinking about it, I shiver.
Opening my eyes I see my breasts, my thighs spread and you, sitting on
the
edge of the bed, still clothed, elbows on knees and looking at what I am
showing you
I smile at you, upside down, looking up from under my arm, my hair hanging
down to touch the sill, there by the window, and you smile back at me.
You move behind me now; my lips part when your hand snakes around my side
and
presses into my belly. The other hand slides up my spine to the back of
my
neck, to the back of my head; pushing it down so that I will see your hand
on
my belly as it moves between my legs and
"Oh ..."
The hand that has often caressed me in my dreams and has known me like my
own. Fingers sliding into the slipperiness between the warm lips - starts
our
hearts racing, my breath coming in short exhalations ... whimpering
pleasure
and relief with every breath.
My body gasps. Your hand moves. Your fingers draw out the wetness from
the
lips between my legs and up my belly ... leaving a long moist trail
between
my breasts to the hollow at the base of my throat, to my chin, lower lip,
and
as I take your fingers into my mouth, in between my teeth; the touch of my
tongue makes you laugh in my ear.
Tasting of myself on your fingertips, I push against the windowsill,
feeling
your cock constrained by your trousers ... pressing into my ass. "Take
me,"
I moan. Your other hand pulls down the zipper and flicks out the button
and
the trousers fall in wrinkles down to your ankles.
Oh yes .... inside, from behind ... you are inside me. My feet planted
firmly apart now. Deep inside, you are a part of my own wet pink flesh.
Sliding back ... I know that when I touch myself - it isn't like when you
touch me. Because I can feel both the touching and being touched, but
with
you it's like making love to myself, I can feel you so fully. You make
love
to me like I would make love to myself.
"Ah ... don't .. stop ... don't stop! "
Your hands on my hips, holding me still, sometimes moving me, you touch me
so
very deep - well, it's a place hidden so far up inside of me that it is
the
unreachable epicenter of myself, the secret of my femaleness and it has
only
to be touched - by you - to send me - all of me, there. I am going there
now, not out of my body, but in. My eyes half-closed ... like the eyes of
memory. You grow inside me, or I tighten around you, the sensation is the
same.
For me, the giddy spinning convulsions of orgasm never matter when I am
with
you. Because it is and always has been and always will be this which
stimulates me with every sliding instant - every frozen moment full of
you.
And I always come with you, and it never has been an end, but the moment
that signaled the beginning of the next time we would consummate this
passion.
You pull back, slide out of me. You glisten in the moonlight at the
window,
and I stand. You turn me and we embrace, your wet cock pressing up
against
my belly. My hands explore the surface of your back, lean and strong, and
down to your ass ... as I sink to my knees and your cock points the way up
my
body, between my breasts; then I take it in my hand, the freshly painted
fingernails of my middle finger and thumb just meeting, pulling my lips
back
and filling my mouth with you. I concentrate with animal like
preoccupation
on the head of your cock. My full, so red lips pull back as my head moves
in
a trancelike motion and my hand follows, slipping moistly along the length
of
it.
Your cock in my warm mouth, in and out, your head thrown back, breathing
fast. I pull back suddenly, unsheathing you wet, and shake my head side
to
side; my hair whips across my mouth and clings to my lips and your hand is
on
my cheek, sliding back under the hair sticking to my mouth and pulling it
back behind my ear, your hand behind my head, pulling me up to your need
to
embrace me.
So I stand and rub the length of my body against the length of your wet
cock
and you run your tongue up under my lips. Lifting me, a hand under each
spread thigh, and slide me down onto you, transfix me smoothly, and carry
me
like that - high, my hands on your shoulders, your mouth at my neck - to
the
wall by the bed. My ankles cross behind you, my thighs ride on your hips.
Your body holds me there, nothing else, hard against the wall and your
hands
take mine and raise them high and apart. Palm to palm.
"Tell me everything," I whisper.
"It's like creation," you breathe. "Like a plow rutting through the
dewiest
darkest soil of the earth. And you and I are the same, we're the male and
female that split from the one, and we are destined to live apart and come
together, and come together when the Sun and the Earth tell us to." You
kiss
me against the wall. "Did you know that?" I nod and unlock my ankles and
lower my legs and you lift me up and off of you, I put my hands against
your
chest and push you back to the bed, giving you a shove and your legs
buckle
as you fall back on the bedspread.
I stand there at the edge of the bed and you can see the silky hair
between
my legs is wet, actually glistening with pendant drops of dew. As I put
one
knee on the bed, then the other, straddling you, taking your straining
erection in my hand. Fist around your cock, I lower myself over the end
and
off again, on ... off ... on, rubbing you against my clit, using you with
childlike indulgence, then in - all the way - to touch that place.
On your back and I am riding you fast. From the waist up I could be
dancing
- but a primitive, lazy-necked, closed-eye, smiling dance like they dance
in
the islands. I fall forward suddenly in giddy exhaustion, my hands
landing
deep in the mattress on either side of your head. My hair falling into
your
face, strands of it sticking to the sweat on my brow. I stare into your
eyes. And you know I see everything there is about you. Every thought,
feeling and purpose, everything that's genuine and everything that's
false,
all the guilt and all the innocence. I know all this. I know too much.
You lift yourself deep into me. I open my eyes and smile down at you.
You
pull me to you and roll over on top of me, pull yourself out of me and
kiss
my breasts, massage my nipples, one after the other, between the tip of
your
tongue and the roof of your mouth. Down my belly, you lick and tickle the
lips of my cunt and press your tongue up against my clit. Your eyes look
up
from under your brows at my stomach rising and falling in uneven breaths,
and
quivering now, I am gasping, making unintelligible sounds.
I am coming so close now and you grin ... there between my legs. What
could
please you more than moving me. If every day you could bring me there,
grasp
me by the soul and guide me to that long moment of involuntary ecstasy and
feel the little tremors that your touch plays into me, bring me daily to
that
place inside of ourselves. All despair ends there, vanishes in the
lifetime
we live together on nights like this - mornings and late afternoons past.
You move slowly up from inside my thighs and lay your body down with care
along the length of me. Plunge in your cock as deep as it will go. I
inhale
your own breath through my smile as all my strength brings itself to bear,
and I tighten myself around you and over you. Your arms around my back
pull
me to you, almost inside you.
My eyes are closed so tight. I am holding the feeling with all my might.
It's the beginning. "Are you all right?" you say, so close to my face.
I
open my eyes, glistening with delight. "Hmm" comes from the back of my
throat, a one-syllable laugh. Then I open my mouth in a soundless "ah" as
you push yourself in again and your pelvis presses hard against mine, then
away, then once more as you cum liberally, smoothly with a fast hot breath
-
a shuddering contraction of every muscle in your long shining body - and
you
keep moving in ever easier strokes. Burying your face in my hair and you
breathe the heat that we have made and the smell that still clings to us.
And that's when you gazed at my hand. Lying palm up by my head. While
you
moved slowly, tenderly still inside me, you kiss my lips and my eyelids
close
for you, and you take my hand in yours and look at it. I smile up at you
and
we roll onto our sides while you look at the too familiar patterns of
lines -
life, heart, lust .....
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