Oct. 25,
Mon Belle Gwenevere:
Act I, Scene II
Your green-grey eyes are looking at me with desire and passion. You take a deep breath and utter in your most sexy French accent:
Gwenevere: Merci, monsieur. My legs 'eel soooo mush better. Now could you pleeease 'elp me take off my 'eadband. My arms are sooo tired from all that dustings.
I pull you down so that you are kneeling between my legs. The top of your head is at my eye level, and I carefully remove the hairclips from the headband, and then toss it next to my bag of tricks.
My hands cradle your head. My thumbs gently brush along your jawbone as my fingertips grasp the back of neck just at your hairline. Your eyes close, and your shiny red lips part slightly as you anticipate the pleasures to come. My fingers lightly massage the back of your neck, then run up along your forehead and down across your cheeks. I feel like a blind man, my fingers dancing across your beautiful face with feathery caresses. Whenever I am with you I have an uncontrollable desire to hold your lovely face in my hands and run my fingers though your fantastic blonde curls.
Your hair is pinned up and your long neck is exposed, and your angelic and delicate face is the focal point. Your eyes open and I notice the sea-foam green mascara you often wear that brings out the brilliant green of your eyes. I hear the lyrics: "Guinevere had green eyes like yours, baby like yours," float though my head. I notice that you have longer curls of blonde hair dangling near your ears, like long golden earrings, but you do not wear. I remove the clips from your hair. You run your fingers through your hair and then shake it out, allowing your tresses to dance over my thighs. When you are done I reach out for you, my fingers starting at the back of your head. You close your eyes and your body turns to putty. You move down, your butt settling on the back of your legs as you relax, knowing the pleasure that is to come.
This is my favorite part, you think, as his hands start to firmly knead the back of my head. They dance along, randomly, going from light and feathery to firm and strong. From back-of-head- to top massages to light caresses long my forehead and ears, then down my cheeks to my neck. There is definitely a connection between the mind and foreplay, you think, but there is also a connection between the head and foreplay, too.
His hands -- does he have more than two? -- are all over my head, though my hair, dancing across my cheeks, caressing my ears, floating lightly down my neck. I open my eyes and find his deep brown ones staring into mine. His nose is almost touching mine, and I can feel his breath on my lips. Please kiss me. I need you to kiss me, my brain screams! I lean forward to try to meet his lips but he moves upward. His lips brush the tip of my nose, then move up to my forehead, where he kisses me while at the same time holding my head in a tight embrace.