For You 26

Last night I was actually nervous as I climbed our stairs, winding my way to the third floor. My bedroom still warm from the heat today, the ceiling fan only stirring the air. The honeysuckle that strangles our front fence was filling the air with a soft sweet smell. I sat on the edge of my bed, soft sheets rumpled. My heart was beating, and there was a memory, an idea right at the edge of my brain. I just could not match it to the flutter in my belly. Then it touched, and the word "baby" rose up at me. A summer afternoon long ago a neighbor spots me beneath a lilac, my two year old charge and I are giggling over a tea party. My sundress pulled up on my thighs so I can sit in a tiny chair. And then his smile and his voice, "Oh my, what a sweet baby playing with her doll...oh wait, it's not a baby it's Becca and Caroline. We all laughed, even the toddler, but somewhere I really heard him, deep inside my crush turned his words around and around until I heard a deeper message, one of possibilities.

And those possibilities sat, and fermented and occasionally lucked into some odds and ends of cyber. But never in real life-no play, and never being called baby". Not at all, maybe that adds to my craving, my interest in this most unwieldy topic. It just is not allowed, is not discussed, and is not explored. So it worms it's way onto fantasies, hoping, wanting, loving the idea of submitting to this male as teacher/guide.

And then when you typed it so casually, it changed, and became that butterfly in my stomach. Wings stretching as my nervousness build.

So I sit, waiting on the edge of my bed, waiting for more. That word drifts back and forth and I wonder what it might be like to hear your voice say it again out loud. And this adds to it, my wetness really beginning now. My tee suddenly feels like a cloak. So off it goes, and then again I sit. My thighs apart just a little, my mouth dry, and I look down at my body. Tan lines from my bathing suits, arms slightly scratched from wrestling the yard, freckles hovering about the tan threatening to reveal just how Irish I am, and I look at my legs, muscles tensed, and my soft, white, simple panties now showing a little dampness.

But this body is merely a layer; it is my untouched, untaught body that needs this tonight. "Baby."

I am more gentle with myself than I have ever been. Soft touches and fingertips on my nipples first, then cupping each breast, so lightly and so carefully, almost a tease. Then teasing out the hard tips, but soft, and very slow, no rushing this pleasure, there is plenty of time. I force myself to slow down, move my hands across my waist, my hips, then to my thighs. Gently and over the panties I trace myself, my wetness, my curve, again and again. My breathing changes, and again I stop to calm down. I want this to be a slow event. I want to take my time. My wants are strong, and getting stronger so I savor walking this line.

My fingers tease at the edge, my thighs move a little farther apart. And I allow one finger, slid into the waistband, to touch. Damp curls, wet skin, but only stroking. No dipping in, no deepness, just taunting. I am licking my lips as I close my eyes. I find myself pressing up, thighs now open fully. But I keep up the light soft strokes. Not enough to come, not enough to release just intended to drive me to the edge. I do this for forever, or so it seems. But then I have to stop. Stop totally.

I stand up and slip the panties down, stepping out of them and just standing there, panting.

I then imagine you. And so I ask for permission. Knowing it had been granted years before and yet wanting it again. Now I wish more wanting your voice to sound out in this bedroom, giving me permission, saying that word. "Baby." I make myself wait, knowing I am so close.

Then I sit and now spread myself open, open to you. My fingers trace their earlier path, but now more urgently. Breasts weighed in my hands, nipples pulled. Then my fingers across my waist and hips, the room humid, and my arousal so obvious, so present like rain kissed rose petals, simply aching to be released. I trace a finger across myself, stopping to circle my clit. The ache goes deeply, and I struggle to slow myself, just teasing and so close. I dip my finger into the wetness, and then suckle on it wondering of watching this would please you. I slide my finger more deeply and, baby, suck again.

I am shaking a little so I decide to lean back, and using both hands I open the lips, and circle harder, pushing my palm against myself. Then I use two fingers, try for three and thrust in, one finer still teasing my clit. "Baby."

I am so close, really ready. I stop and make myself get up, and then kneel down facing the bed. I lean forward and ask again for permission. My hair in my eyes, my face on the sheet, I slide my hands onto me, fingers deep and, softly "baby" echoes in my head, in my cunt and me cum. The spasms hard and fast, unable to stop I push myself to another. I am gasping, soaked with my cum and my sweat. I lean against the bed so relaxed, so exhausted.