Having you in them with me is all that matters.
Some dreams visions of endless cuddling and whispers of love and contentment. Sleep comes to me in those dreams and I drift off with a sense of completeness radiating from deep within me, hoping it to envelop you along with me. The bed cradling us.
Most dreams though involve acts of love, sex if you like. Where a bed is not needed but where you take me.
Often the sex starts fast, as if it might be our first, or last, moments together. I, putty in the furnace of your desires. The fires burning bright and undaunted throughout. The bed shaking, squeaking, smoldering in our heat.
We speak of fucking and fucking we do. Kisses taking rather than giving. Bodies slamming together. The bed a platform, raising us up.
Tasting. Touching. Biting. Licking. Grabbing. Taking. Wanting. Offering. Panting. Sweating. Incorporating dampness, odors, makeup, hair, skin within the fabric of the bed.
Our cries expanding but the words nonsensical. But we know what each other desires, needs. And we give and take. Cumming. The bed sometimes muffling the cries when we don't face away to the ceiling or the wall.
The sex hard at times. But never as hard as the need stewing beneath it all. Some beds standing up well to the barrage, others left broken in our wake.
Humping. Trying to fit the other inside. Clutching, never to be released but never fully gained. The bed bouncing under us, or holding firm as if assisting in our embrace.
Wild eyes. One set intent upon the actions of the other. Toys, objects, hands. Pushed and lubed and inserted. The bed assisting by keeping them near. Large beds, spacious and scattered. Cramped beds, unable to fit us all.
You take me and use me. At the end, I am under you. Drinking fully but never enough. Unable to be sated. Instead, only increasing my thirst, my need, my wants. The bed holds me, for you. The place of my offering, accepting the remains that overflow me.
In the darkness on the damp mat, and in the bright light of the clean sheets, its all the same. You fuck me into submission, a submission that demands more from you. Never spoken, but sensed. As you take my spent body into your arms, you promise me more. The bed our witness.
Our breathing in sync as we descend from the heights. Both dizzy from the experience, catching a glimpse of the peaks beyond. A caress, followed and returned. Without words, relaying the knowledge that we will scale them all together. Make a bed out of the clouds daring the heights. A bed always awaiting us there.
But relishing our time in the valleys as well. Catching our breath, savoring past delights, perfect in the moment together. Where the clean, fresh, warm grass is all the bed we need.
Dreams born of our times together. In bed.
Waiting for the next dream to come. Laying my head down, the bed's siren song reaching me. Singing to me of all it has seen and of what is to come.
