Stormfront

“I can’t believe you haven’t done this yet,” he said and kissed me, his arm across my shoulders to bring me closer, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Did he think I was going to attack him straight in the door or something, I thought while I still could think clearly. Then I stopped thinking and could only feel the sensations and flooding emotions of having him overwhelmingly close.

Images like pictures in my memory come back to me of his skin and hands and mouth and scent and long lean muscles and the sleekness of his animal self touching me inside and out, physical and spirit selves blending. Waiting so long for culmination, would our desire overcome us or could we gentle this storm between us? Were we feeding on the chaos of this passion or was it consuming us? Did we care what overwhelmed us, I think not. We were suddenly out of time, in between what was real and what we desired.

His clean scent in my lungs, on my mouth, filling me as I stroked his skin, delicious sensation on my skin and hands and cheek as I explored him, learning his contours and the planes and valleys of his body. Kneeling between his knees to press my cheek to his belly, smoothing my hands up his chest to push the cloth of his shirt away and expose his strong chest. I filled my hands and mouth with the texture and taste of his skin, joyful in the pure decadence of the moment.

His hands explored me as well, kissing and stroking my skin, finding sensitive places, making my back arch to fill his mouth with my nipple, then teasing the other with his tongue. His hands sliding in the edge of my jeans to dig fingers into my flesh, pulling me tighter to him to feel his growing arousal. His eyes, when I look into them, growing dark and primitive telegraphing straight to my own arousal his need.

Stripping his clothing off finally, seeing for the first time his naked form, I am undone. Beautiful skin, smooth and awaiting my touch, responsive and growing to my attention. I drink him in with every sense, running my hands over him, inhaling his scent, tasting his skin with lips and tongue and becoming intoxicated, drunk with the textures and tastes and closeness of him.

Free to explore, I run my hands over every bare inch of his beautiful skin, finding tender places, sensual triggers, tasting him, inhaling him into me. I wonder at the trembling in his limbs as my mouth follows his contours and finds him full and aroused in my hands, between my lips.

Having him finally in my hands and mouth and against my bare skin brings a primal thrill. Nothing exists except the circle we create, surrounding us and entering us and opening me to him on such a deep level that I have not felt for so long I have no words to describe.

And he turns the tables on me, to explore me as fully as he has allowed me to experience him. His hands play me, his mouth open on my skin as his fingers drive me, push me towards climax and then pull back to start again with the teasing, anticipating pleasure. His voice demanding in my ear, making me crazy, begging him to never stop touching me, to come inside me and never leave, and more that becomes incoherent.

“I need to be inside you, now. Is that what you want, me inside you?”

I couldn’t catch my breath to say yes.

Mindless with the pleasure of his hands on my body, the sound of his voice low and harsh with need in my ear, I arch to meet him, taking us into each other and the weight of him between my thighs, finally one in flesh as well as spirit, is a welcome and so long awaited joy.

Transported out of ourselves and into each other and we come out the other side changed, only for a moment. Our breathing matches, our hands clutching one another and no words pass. Hard and all masculine flesh meets and melds with soft feminine curves, unbelievable that this is us reduced to primal instinct and inarticulate need. And we revel in that moment, in each other, in the carnal pleasures denied and finally released. Longer and longer the moment spins out with us each on the brink again and again of completing this circuit, circling each other and feeding this wildness.

We each cry out as finally the storm breaks over us and our mutual release rocks us, resets us and separates us into two again from the one we were.

Exhilarated, the world is fresh and new and seems full of promise when we are at last reclaimed into our own selves. The reality outside our circle does not yet intrude and I hold to myself these images in my memory against the inevitable return to the mundane outside.