She Wouldn’t Let Me Iss Her Lips

It all started with her trying to resist me, which was hard for her to do, she kept reminding me, every time. She sent me out of her room so she could sleep. "Go get some sleep; you have an early morning!", she said.

I kissed her neck, taking in, dwelling in, her softness and her smell. More little kisses down to her shoulder, my lips tracing the lines of her neck, not taking a moment of this for granted.

She

let

me, but, made a little grunt like, "hey, stop; I like that too much and we need to sleep!" So, my lips lingered, tracing that line down her neck, feeling the soft of her skin on my lips a few last times. This was rare, and would be, like always, fleeting.

And, right on cue, she pushed me away and said, "Okay, go to bed!" I felt rambunctious (and sweet), but it was time for me to sleep, too. That delicious moment was our goodnight.

But then...

Her eyes. What is that world that dances in her eyes? It pulled me back in. She caught me in that glint in her eye, like a tractor beam. I hovered close to her, unable to move. It might've been just a moment, but it poured right into the middle of me, awakening new things.

My eyes caught the corner of her grin, and my lips needed to respond.

Immediately.

Her devious grin earned a devious response from me. I moved in, knowing she knew full well how much I wanted my lips to contact hers. But I landed right at the corner; still a kiss on the cheek, if a little evocative.

She'd spent an intense split second preparing her protest, and her eyes widened when it wasn't needed. Then her eyebrows came way down while she tried to decide how she felt about all this. My belly filled with electricity to stand there taking it all in; filled until it glowed. She was bouncing and flickering around like lightning, too. We were

in it

.

The magnetic pull between us intensified, but I felt sure-footed and I knew, sleep was a must. As I released her, ready to leave, she caught hold of my wrists. Apparently to slow me down?

And still, next moment--all over again--somehow that wrist hold called in a reset to my system. Her eyes and energy entirely re-captured me, like it was the first time. She had a look of delight and determination.

I held her gaze, silently telling her, "Yeah, I know (!!!),

us

!" then shuffled off to the couch with a contented smile stuck on my face.

The afterimage of her eyes burned in me then. Burned its way clear through me, filling up my belly and creeping all the way down to my toes. I lay down, full of warmth, ready to sleep.

Or maybe not quite ready for sleep... I kept replaying that scene with different variations.

My lips had never touched hers, and I wondered what it would be like if she let me.

I pictured us back in her room. This time, she'd let me try. But she wouldn't kiss me back; she'd just grin at me while I nibbled on her bottom lip, right where she always bites it. She'd pretend to be unmoved, but, all the while, filling with fire. There's no way she'd be able to hide it; I knew I would feel it. I could already feel her feeling us in our every encounter. And I could feel her even now as the scene visited me.

I saw my body pressed against hers, feeling that fire leaping from her belly, flames like fingers, pulling us closer than it's physically possible to be. I'd be tugging drunkenly at her hips to attempt this impossible merging.

She'd catch herself almost imperceptibly moving backward, tiny step by tiny step, until the bed tapped on the back of her legs. I'd keep her moving. Onto the bed. Both of us, legs interwoven, and then, me hovering over her face.

That's when she'd lose control, leave her thoughts, really inhabit her skin. Her hips would shift and tip and sway, into me, like she might move right through me. My hands, full of her skin, would ride her every move, keeping her pressed close, staying in the softness of her thighs.

But then I wouldn't let her kiss me. I'd keep my face just out of reach. We'd be locked in each other's eyes, and I'd melt a little bit more, feeling her breath speed up and watching her bite at her lip impatiently--which, in itself could do me in! But, most of all, her eyes. Always her eyes.

Lying on the couch, as I was, I wondered... were her eyes closed already? What scenes came to her when they did close? Were they anything like mine? When sleep came, would she dream of me? It thrilled me to imagine we were having similar experiences on either side of the bedroom wall. But what if hers were completely different than the images that came to me?

Maybe instead of slow, seductive, & playful; instead of hovering just earthside of feeling we'd be flung into space for as long as we could stay in orbit; maybe she imagined me more assertive, the type who would take charge, who would pin her down, tell her what to do, pretending it was for my benefit, but all the while just trying to rile her up and force her to let go. I wondered whether I could be that type, if she wanted me to.

Oh, wait... or...

What if

she's

the assertive type? Maybe I didn't know the half of it. Maybe she would've liked to channel her frustrations into me, until they transmuted into desire?

She'd complain at me for my infractions, push me backwards onto the bed, then straddle me hard, my hips immobilized, and tell me just what my punishment would be. Then, probably, she'd flip me over and let my ass have it, but making sure I didn't come.

She'd start slow, digging her fingers into my ass and thighs, and growl some kind of hot nothings at the back of my neck. She'd render me helpless but to emit involuntary murmurs and groans. They'd become fuel for her, hastening her rhythm, sending tremors down her arms, until her hands couldn't but grasp and claw. She'd collapse onto me, leaving me ravenous, still forbidding me to come, teasing me long enough I'd know she meant it.

Maybe she'd been longing to have her way with me a lot like this but she wouldn't tell me, afraid to offend. It was really setting me to simmer, lying on the couch, wondering what she was dreaming she'd do with me.

As I lay there, the imagery just kept coming. It alternated between my own fantasies and what I imagined hers to be, and sleep didn't feel ready to take me.

Then, I started hearing things. I asked myself, could I have heard her just now, breathing heavy?

I'd hear the heavy paw patters of the restless cat and think it might be her shifting in bed. The cat would find its way to a creaky floorboard and I'd catch myself looking mischievously at the vertical black stripe of her door left slightly ajar, just in case she'd crept out of bed to peek at me. Like, maybe she was hoping she'd be able to see me squirming on the couch after she'd heard

my

breathing getting louder.

And at this point, my breathing was. It had started speeding up before I'd even begun to touch myself.

But imagining her now, surreptitiously watching me through the door crack, I had no choice but to touch myself. In case she was there, I had to give her something more to see and hear. If she

was

standing in that doorway, noticing my breath, my movements under the blanket, I wondered, would she come over and join the fun?

If her first move was voyeurism under cover of night, surely she'd come over and try to be almost ghost-like?: she'd brush almost imperceptibly up my legs from my knees to my inner thighs, waiting to inhale from my energy even the tiniest quaver in my breath. Maybe she'd trace fingers over my hip bones. Or run her palms down my sides. Or walk her fingers from my neck down my collarbones.

Maybe she'd count on my eyes remaining closed, offering only the most subtle bits of contact. She'd know it would feel like the start of something but then, just like a ghost, waft away.

If my eyes stayed closed, if I didn't dare peek, I'd almost be able to believe I hadn't imagined all of it: her face peeking into the room, her sauntering toward me, her devious grin, her touch.

We'd agreed, after all, we wouldn't do what our bodies so clearly wanted us to do. And so my hands found their way to all the places her hands might have gone if this hadn't been my imagination (or her visitation from a dream).

This glow radiating out from my center, it moved slow. My hands moved slow. What I felt was more like slow dancing with her during one of those times when our bodies insisted they could overlap a few inches to occupy some of the same physical space. Our thighs, the fronts of our pelvises, our bellies, our breasts, our shoulders, sometimes our necks, the sides of our faces.

I wanted to keep savoring this tender and sensuous appreciation, the natural continuation of how she'd made me feel in our brief encounter before bed.

I basked in it, and my hands drifted like my skin was the field of a theramin, and it didn't take much to keep notes quivering and occasionally warbling through me. I'd never touched myself quite like that. Wow, what she did to me...

It actually didn't feel like me. Maybe she really could turn into a ghost, or astral travel to inhabit my hands and pour herself into my cells, crickling past nerve endings and whooshing between muscle fibers. It wasn't just delectable, it was

really pretty

. I didn't want to change it. I let it be just what it was and fell asleep after she wove her way through me a while.

...

I don't know what woke me. Maybe it was the cat. But I found myself awake and it was still deep night.

Then I heard very faint talking. What was that? Was she on the phone? Was she talking to me? I was confused and not fully awake, so I walked as quietly as possible toward her cracked bedroom door to see if I could hear better.

She was listening to an audiobook! And so, I figured, since we were both awake in the middle of the night, I may as well go in and say hi. But I quickly realized she was fast asleep.

I immediately wondered if she'd really been asleep, visiting me from dream land, when I felt her with me earlier.

It was pretty dark in her room but I couldn't stop watching her sleep. I stood there a few long moments, just mesmerized. This beautiful being who brought me so much goodness, her body adrift in the depths of sleep, her astral self journeying on wisps that wound me up.

And somehow that ember set aglow inside my belly again, and I felt driven to move closer.

It was a split second decision. I pulled off my shirt, so I was, like her, down to just undies, and I climbed under the covers and wriggled close to her. Just feeling her warmth and smelling her set that ember ablaze. I wondered how I could twine myself into her dreamscape as delightfully as she'd done in her astral visitation earlier.

It didn't escape me that if I carried on, she'd wake up and find me there, in her bed, in the flesh. Not a ghostly apparition. If my touch didn't arouse her enough, she might be disgruntled and kick me out. But if it did, then she might, in her groggy state, give in to desire.

I found myself already there, giving in to desire, taking in the smell of her, her warmth, the gentle movements of her breath, all conspiring with this fire spreading through me.

I was mere inches from her breasts and, remembering she'd told me she liked her nipples sucked, that it could put her in a

state

, the sudden urge to put her in my mouth became impossible to resist.

I wanted to infiltrate her dreams with my touch before she realized I was really there, so I started with the lightest touch. I wasn't ready for her to wake up yet.

I took gentle hold of one nipple with the softest of lips, not pulling her into my mouth just yet, but exploring the center, and, as it reflexively defined itself into a little peak, explored the perimeter with my tongue. I was just saying hi, feeling its shape, and the dawning awareness of what I was up to, in her bed, my mouth on her breast.

I'd never really been drawn to nipples before, but something about her made me want to keep feeling her in my mouth like that. My whole body started to glow. She was softer and more delicious than I'd anticipated. And her smell, too! My mouth, my tongue, began to respond instinctually and I pulled more of her into my mouth, that body glow now pulsating into a shimmery radiance. I thought I was going to pleasure her, but pleasure was spreading through me in a way I never expected. I was floating in the clouds.

Now I remembered breastfeeding my own baby--how beautiful, sensuous, and all-consuming it could be. Somehow my relationship to her breasts seemed infused with more substance than it ever could have been before I had breastfed myself. I knew what was possible, and I remembered what I had felt, and now I knew: that feeling is felt by both! It was a moment of ecstatic realization, of magic, actually deepening my discoveries as breastfeeding mother about the eroticism of breasts.

I remembered my baby nursing, times when every skin cell suddenly came to life, like a field of wildflowers bursting into bloom. I wondered if she felt something like that. I wondered if she could osmose this expanding sensuousness in me, and the intensity of this new and ravenous need to have her in my mouth. It was also anchored by this intense love that had already emerged between us. I wanted her to feel all the magic; I wanted both of us to feel everything.

I was lost in her. Heat was swirling on my skin, on my forehead, my solar plexus, my belly, my pelvis, the fronts of my thighs. It felt like the northern lights had descended from the sky to map sensations of heat onto my skin.

I fell into a natural rhythm, and her nipple slipped gradually deeper as my mouth, and this feeling deep in my belly, hungered for her. I sucked her in until I felt her covering most of my tongue, and my tongue somehow knew what to do, as it arched up and back down against the underside of the sweet softness of her that I held in my mouth.

Heat continued dancing on my skin, and a fire now coursed through my innards. Suckling her nipple deep in my mouth brought alternating waves of an entirely novel hunger and corresponding satiation. So much was happening inside of me while she slept, and I hoped she was feeling and knowing this magic inside her dreamscape.

But now my hands needed to touch her.

I loved the idea of her dreams integrating into her being this tender suckling and the intense feeling it generated, and wondering how her dreams made meaning of and sorted her experience, whether she connected with my past experiences, or what might be alive for her.

But I couldn't ask her and, anyway, my hands needed to know her shape, feel her movements, introduce new sensation.

I've got a thing about pulling her toward me. My hands have always done this automatically. I've always needed to do it, every time I touch her. And here I was again, wanting her body closer still. No matter if our edges were in contact, I longed for our contents to merge.

And now the creamy softness of her thighs summoned me. My lower hand touched where her closed thighs met, tracing that line and stopping at the squishy part. I nestled my fingers in, gently parting her, to introduce my touch. I wanted handfuls, then, of those squishy bits, and my fingers sank into her soft flesh, alternately taking firm grasp and letting her slip through my fingers. Intermittently my thumb would lightly glance the fabric covering her warmest patch.

I was inundated with sensations. I couldn't believe how much of her I was feeling and taking in, my breath involuntarily getting rapid and heavy, while her sleep was just beginning to thin.

Maybe it was my breath, maybe it was how I was touching her. Or maybe it was the intensity of my energy mixing with it all, pulling her earthside to meet me.

I was quite sure her dreams had been gifted plenty of kindling, and I was elated for her to join me, especially as she awoke into an adorably unconvincing feigned slumber.

Periodically her breath betrayed her with a little flutter. The message was clear: she wanted me to keep going, but she didn't want to let on that she'd agreed to this. And, thankfully, now I didn't have to make any effort to avoid waking her.

My other hand got hold of her fleshy ass and I rolled her thigh in my firm grasp, my fingers digging in as I thought of the nibbles and kisses I wanted to plant here soon. For perhaps the first time, I knew I had permission to feel her and taste her in all the places she magnetized me to her.

I released her nipple from my mouth and lined our bodies up, face to face, belly to belly, thighs to thighs, her warm, squishy, and partially wet breasts pushing directly into mine.

I brought my face in close to hers, brushing my cheek against hers, nuzzling briefly past her nose, and letting my slightly open lips glance over hers. I refrained from a kiss, but my face explored hers, and I took her lower lip in my teeth. Her breathing told all. She wanted me, too.

With both hands, I grabbed at her hips, then explored her ass, one grasping handful at a time. I wasn't shy about spreading her cheeks to creep fingertips between and trace out a suggestive hello to her perineum and the pucker of her ass, reminding her body I knew where it opened. I don't know if this exploration turned me on more, or her, we were both breathing audibly. Then I tugged at her inner thigh, just a thumb acknowledging a tiny wet patch.

My mouth took in nibbles at her collarbone, and my hands tried to swallow whatever soft flesh they had hold of as they roamed.

In case there was any doubt of my intentions, my hands found the inside of her legs and traced straight up to her undies, letting my fingers dip into the cotton where she was getting wetter, and tease past her lips for a fleeting moment, letting her sex know it was next. She groaned and her breath caught, her hips pushing her into my hand in response. With slow, breathless movements, she pleaded with me for more. I wanted more, too.

She pushed down on the top of my head. I understood she wanted her breast in my mouth again, and I obeyed. I teased her ever so subtly through her undies while her nipple slipped into my mouth, and her groaning and her hip movements intensified. Her hands had stayed off of me in her feigned sleep, but now they found the back of my head and all pretense of sleep was gone. At moments her hands grasped the sides of my face or tugged at my ears to pull me in closer.

It was tempting to try to make her come with my hand between her thighs, and I continued my teasing, making her cunt crave my fingers. But I didn't want us to find our way so quickly. I wanted it to build up until we were both completely out of our heads, all of this deliciousness flying through our bodies to send us into the stratosphere together.

And, after all, what if she never let me do this to her again? What if this was the one chance we had to know how it felt to indulge our desire? Plus, I wanted so very much for us to come together. I wanted to feel the ricochet of her pleasure shooting through both our bodies as we amplified each other's final, simultaneous crescendo.

I peeked up at her face and met her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on me and how that primitive hunger impelled me to keep her in my mouth. Her eyes filled with an intensity that I could meet only with a moan. I'd long dreamed of the day I could fuck her, and now, it had arrived, and I wanted her more than ever.

We were electric; live wires laced across our skin and rooted down into our bones, sending sparks up through joints to whirl through our interstitial spaces and pool in our bellies, before leaping across the spaces between us to bind us together. It wouldn't take much to trigger that chain reaction of us setting each other off. We were close.