Solitary Passion

How clearly I remember my first lover. Who knew of him, with his blazing blue eyes and crooked smile, but me? None of them knew; I kept him well hidden. For who would have understood our solitary passion? How might he be explained to the girls who chattered incessantly about who was seen holding hands with whom? What might they have thought? My love would be lost on them. I told nobody.

Oh, but the times we had. At night, when all was quiet, I would gaze out my bedroom window into the deep blue sky, following the airplane lights with my eyes as he climbed into bed next to me. I stared at the moon as he whispered into my ear, reminding me that I was a woman now, desirable and lovely. I would feel the cool air from the window blowing his touch on my face, stroking my cheek, tracing my lips until my tongue reached out to lick them.

His hands would roam over my nightgown, tracing the outline of my full breasts.

"They're beautiful." His fingers probed around the outline of my breasts beneath my nightgown as he breathed these words into my ear. "The essence of woman."

I sighed as I began to feel my nipples growing erect against the fabric. His voice, now a husky whisper, revealed his desire. "Can you lift up the gown, sweet one? Can I touch them?"

Yes, I could, and did, and before long I removed it entirely. For long minutes he stroked my breasts and cupped them, as I lay staring at the moon. The words he whispered sent fire through me, awakening places that barely knew life yet. He took my hand and asked me to let him move it, to pretend it belonged to him. With my assent he ran my fingers across my breasts and traced the outline of my nipples. I glanced down in the darkness trying to see them come to life. How they would spring out as my fingers danced over them, squeezing them and rubbing them from side to side. Circling them lightly, around and around until they seemed to reach for the ceiling craving more. Then both hands cupping my breasts, teasing the nipples wildly, and I could feel his tongue brush against them with the cool April air.

The true woman awakened inside me; I could feel her dripping from me. She screamed for attention, as I closed my eyes and gazed into his. He looked at me lovingly, hungrily, and glanced my body over. He stopped whispering to me, instead taking my hand and easing it down to my panties, drawing a line down the hidden cleft. His lips almost kissed my stomach as my left breast and nipple still received the attention from our hands. He poked with my finger through the material, and I wondered how it could be so wet there that it could be felt right through the cotton.

His lips kissed at the waistband as my fingers played there. He bit it with his teeth, and I wiggled and helped with my hands to move it down until the panties were in a heap at the bottom of my bed. He directed my knees apart and blew cold night air onto my wet and newly exposed sex. I watched a cloud covering the moon outside my window, as my lover took my fingers and allowed them to stroke at my lips and dabble in the mysterious fluid that formed there. It was slick, thicker than I had expected. I lifted my hand to my face and smelled it, curious about the musky sweet combination. My tongue dabbed forward and licked the droplets.

I paused to consider the taste, a strange new delight.

He smiled, blues eyes shining. "I think you like that, don't you, my sweet?"

I blushed with a smile and murmured my agreement. Before long he played with my fingers again, working up and down between my lips. I could hear the moist popping sounds as I inexplicably grew more and more wet, causing my back to arch and my breath to leave me in hitched gasps. Oh, the pleasure, and the sense of amazement as my legs involuntarily spread wider before him, and my insides quivered and contracted, inviting his entrance.

My body was no longer my own, in those moments. I could not control the movements. I flushed and gasped with this realization, a touch of guilt brushing at me. He saw my discomfort and smiled reassuringly, through his obvious lust.

"It's all about love...” he murmured, as he took my longest finger and eased it inside me. I examined the walls of the crevice in some kind of blind exploration. I felt enough passion to call out his name in a hoarse whisper, and felt a larger contraction shudder through me before I withdrew my finger in a moment of combined pleasure and longing.

I pulled the sheet up to my neck as he cuddled in beside me, whispering the promises of love to come, until my breath eased into relaxation, my shudders ceased, and my fantasies turned to sleep.