Approaching Her

I slowly cross that gray field seeking consciousness and find you gone. The spot is cold to my touch; that spot of soft depression you left as you slipped from the bed. I know where you’ve gone again, it’s the run, you’re morning ritual that wakes you up and allows a civil approach to the day as you drift in and out of thoughts about what the day will bring to you, and how you’ll respond if it’s done properly. Things brought to you out of order, or out of shape wring your nerves and set you off. That’s the reason I never run with you, I do it later, after work, so I can cleanse my soul of all the nastiness and pettiness that goes along with making a living.

I hear a shuffle on the balcony, and realize you’ve returned. Slipping out of bed, I grab a robe and slowly stroll to the sound, and the magical pull your presence holds on me.

I know where you are mentally, and you know I approach

. I know you know, as you know I know, and that’s the magical connection. Presence not words; words will come later, but now as the sun transforms from that huge red orb to a brilliant yellow spot, we remain silent.

You sit in the padded chaise, your back to me, facing the world, fifteen stories above the city street that is just beginning to stir to life. Settled back into the building, the balcony is not for prying eyes, the windowless office structure across the street stares back with its blank walls and unseeing eyes. We are alone, and there’s a hint of sexual stirrings about. The temperature is going to rise today, but right now it’s cool, a slight breeze from a directionless wind billows the curtains as I walk up behind you.

You’ve leaned back with your shoulders squarely on the back of the chaise, your butt scooted forward, your only clothing is a robe, slightly apart, and your hands rest on the arms of the old chaise you’ve grown to love so much. I come from behind, and put my hands softly on your shoulders. I notice you’ve run hard, the hair at the back of your neck is damp, and rivulets of sweat run between your breasts. You moan as I begin to rub your shoulders, your hands dropping between your thighs to that private place you know so well.

I rub harder, concentrating on your neck for a moment, then back to your shoulders, then slowly down to your breasts. A gentle squeeze on your nipples, and back to your neck again. Your head falls back and your hand seeks the heat between your thighs, palm down, slight pressure, and you sigh.

You know where this is going, and I say nothing to stop it. The pressure increases privately between your palm and your body, and you stiffen. As I work out the taughtness in your shoulders, below the waist you tense, raise, and absorb all the feelings running from each nerve you possess. Your breath quickens, your middle finger disappearing to that amazing damp place, the others holding the folds of your womanhood, gently, purposefully.

I continue to slowly massage you, my robe parting as my own stirrings force it open. Bricks could find an abode on him now, and he quietly tastes the morning air, knowing you’re near, but not knowing exactly where. You’re mind is miles from here, back to the horse and that day in the forest. I’m amazed to see you suddenly stiffen, moan, clamp your knees together and climb to a height you’ve never before reached. Your eyes close as if in pain, and your head rolls off to the right as I come to that side of the chaise.

Without opening your eyes you engulf him, eager to please, as his throbbing hardness responds within moments. My knees buckle slightly with release, but you hold and satisfy. Ever so slowly I withdraw, bend at the waist and kiss your lovely lips. I can smell you now, the heat, the womanhood, the sex. Pungent-sweet, the essence of you as you put that middle finger between our mouths and onto my tongue. Oh god it’s lovely, all of it, and I savor the moment.

Ever so slowly you rise, take my hand and head to the shower. Neither of us speaks, we don’t need to, and moments later I plunge to the hilt, holding you strongly against the shower wall as you throw your head back and gasp for air. What seems like an eternity, but is only minutes, we continue the dance, holding on to each other for dear life. The final explosion is satisfying yet leaves us wanting more, and later, we both know later, after my run, you’ll approach me from behind.

You know where I am mentally, and I know you approach…