I dream about her often. This woman, this girl, this beautiful soul that I have not yet met.
The one that will quiet the storm in my head. The one that will finally, finally, fill the ever present emptiness within me.
The one that will feel like home.
I imagine that I will know her when I see her. Maybe we will meet by chance at a bar or a restaurant. I will be alone, venturing out of my restless walls in search of something. In search of her.
She does not have a particular face or a particular body. It is not the shell that she lies within that I seek but the pearl within. Underneath her cracks and ridges and folds, I will find her waiting for me. Just for me.
Perhaps she is smaller than me, shorter, thinner. In my past life, I had wanted to feel small. I sought out men who would loom over me, break me, fill me. But I was never quite full. As much as I tried to usurp it, the emptiness reigned.
My hands are cramped and weak from years of holding on to my convention. To what was expected. To what everyone thought I was. But now, they are tired. They ache to unfurl and settle on her open, delicate palm.
She will be with friends, because she has many and she is loved. She will see me and invite me in, and I will feel welcome.
I will probably drink too much because I am nervous. I want to take her home, to brush my lips to hers, to feel her skin, but I am uncertain. Does she feel this too?
My racing heart will skip a beat when her eyes melt into mine. They could be chocolate brown, emerald green or a sea of blue. It will not matter. I will look into them and I will know.
I will invite her to my place for a drink, for a movie, anything she desires because I just want her near me. I want to breathe the same air as her, to stare into her kind eyes and feel whole.
I will call the Lyft as she says good-bye to her friends. My palms are sweaty as we wait. She has worn a skirt, perhaps a little too short and a little too thin for the chilly night air. She will wrap her arms around herself, compressing her breasts. I will steal glances at her goose-fleshed mounds and worry about her being too cold. I will wish I had brought something to wrap around her bare shoulders.
In the car, we will talk easily. Her skirt has ridden a little too high and her thighs are parted. I desperately want to see her panties. Are they practical? Sexy? As wet as mine?
My hands will shake as I mix her a drink. She will slowly walk around my home, looking at the photos of the people that love me unconditionally. The ones who helped me to get here, to get to her.
Her demure fingers will dance along the spines of my record collection, and she will select one of my favorites. She will turn her sweet smile to me as I place the icy glass in her awaiting hand. Our fingers will brush and I will turn away, my mouth suddenly dry.
I will put on an album and we will sit on the couch, talking easily, listening to the crackling music as it fills the room. Her proximity is sobering despite the disappearing cocktail in my hand.
I will watch as she brings the drink to her soft lips. Her delicate neck will undulate deliciously as she swallows the icy beverage then licks the dew from her lips. She will put the glass down and turn to me, tucking her hair behind her ears. Perhaps her hair is long, past her shoulders, with silky soft curls layered into its deep chestnut tone. If it were blonde, or black or red or gone, it would be of no concern.
My nerves will make me comical, playful. She will laugh at my jokes and touch my knee, her inviting mouth open in laughter. With her arm on the back of the couch, she will twirl a lock of my medium brown, wavy hair in her fingers. Her gaze will become lustful, as will mine.
She will stand and take the drink from my hand, settling it onto the coffee table behind her. She will hold my hand in hers, interlacing our fingers as she smiles wickedly down at me.
My other hand will wrap around her thigh and I will close my eyes and feel her skin beneath me. She is soft, her skin lush under my trembling hand. Her hand will go to my head and lightly stroke my hair as I breathe her in.
Now we are here. Together. Our destinies aligned. Our bodies about to collide.
My hand slides up further, to the foothills of her fleshy ass. I slide up the hill and cup her bare cheek, my fingers grazing the string of her thong. I suck in my breath as this first question is answered and many more take shape inside my racing brain.
She moans and pulls me to her. I open my eyes and look up at her, my chin grazing the valley between her thighs.
"I want you," she whispers, dropping my hand and tracing her finger along my jaw.
"I want you too." I bring my other hand up to her ass, kneading her flesh in my invigorated hands.
I pull her to me and kiss the strip of exposed skin on her stomach, nuzzling into her flesh.
The longing to give a woman pleasure, by my hand, my mouth, has consumed me for months. Years. I want to pull her clothes off and bury my face between her thighs but I do not want this to end. Now that she is here, I will savor her.
My hands come up to her waist and push up her shirt. Her stomach is flat or doughy or rippled or pouchy. Either way, it is beautiful. I hold her skin to my mouth as I kiss it, drag my tongue across it, inhale it.
I push her shirt up higher and the flesh of her braless breasts looms above me. I stop and admire the bare swell of her glorious mounds.
She brings a knee up to the sofa next to my leg, then the other, then sinks down to my lap. Her hands hold my face as she pulls me to her. Our lips brush then part.
Her tongue is gentle and sleek, sliding along mine. Her kisses are like nothing I have ever felt before. She pulls me in deeper and I lose my breath. I had hoped, dreamed, that she would feel like this. Passionate and tranquil, lustful and hushed. How could this hungry, tenacious mouth be so peaceful? So delicate?
I grip her ribs as we kiss, my eagerness edging forward, harder to control. My thumbs brush against her breasts and I urge myself to slow down, enjoy her.
She groans into my mouth as her hips start to move against me. She wants me as much as I want her.
I pull away and look up at her as I push her shirt up higher. Her moisture on my lips evaporates as her nipples emerge before me. Her breasts are small or average or large, and they are breathtaking.
She pushes her shoulders back as I cup her pillowy flesh in my aching hands. My thumbs trace along the bumps of her areolas and I watch her nipples harden. I roll my thumbs over them and she moans, her head lolling back. They feel like berries or cherries or melting chocolate chips. They feel like heaven.
I take one in my mouth, roll it around on my tongue. I open wide and pull as much of her into me as I can, letting her flesh fill my happy mouth, teasing my tongue across her juicy jelly bean nipples. I pull back and kiss it gently then do the same to the other.
She groans and writhes on my lap. My pussy yearns for hers.
"Can I take you to my bedroom now?" I ask as I squeeze her delicious breasts together and slide my tongue between them.
Her eyes find mine and her smile emboldens me. She nods and her long hair shifts forward as she bends to kiss me.
She backs off my lap and pulls her shirt off, then reaches for my hand. I slip my hand in hers and she pulls me up, embracing me. My arms wrap around her and I flatten my palms on her back, pulling her in.
Perhaps she is my height, maybe a little shorter, maybe a little taller. Either way my mouth finds hers and she kisses me. Her arms embrace me and I feel her lust, on par with my own. Soon, I will make her scream my name.
I guide her to my bedroom. My bed is made and she lays upon it, topless, her skirt riding up her thighs. I lie down next to her and pull her to me. She drapes a leg over mine and presses her body to me.
She cups my breast, fondling me over my dress. She kisses down my neck and chest to my sagging tit, pulling it to her mouth. I feel her warm breath on my aroused nipple.
"Take your dress off. I want to see you."
I hesitate. She senses it. It has been too long since I have been naked with someone. And never a woman.
"Is everything ok? Do you want to stop?" Her eyes look at me, worried, filled with doubt.
I brush my fingers along her cheek. Her beautiful, soft cheek. I tell her.
"I've never done this before. With....a woman."
Her eyes go wide, her lips form a circle.
"Oh....ok. I see." She takes her leg back and sits up.
