nixtress's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pieces of you

I woke this morning with the feel of you still with me. I felt your heat.

My flesh remembered the taste of yours, the scent of you. Remembered the slide of my lips down the side of your neck, nipping at your shoulders and throat. Felt still the soft press of lips and then the tangling of tongues.

I remembered raining open-mouthed kisses down and across your chest, nipping now and again to remind you who held the power, suckling on your nipples. The smell of you, aroused and wanting. Your soft groans still echoed in my ears and in my head.

Taking my time, dipping my head down to tease and touch and torment. Soft silky hair trailing down and around you while I played with your nerve-endings. My fingertips recall the velvet skin at the meeting of your chest and belly, remember tracing the lines there.

Hands spanning your hips, eating up the tension that had every muscle vibrating.

Leaning a bit lower and sighing in pleasure against heated skin. My voice remembers hiding, letting whispers escape. Whispers describing what I was going to do, what I wanted.

I watched your hands grip the bedsheets, fingers twisting in the worn cotton while you waited. Almost begging...almost.

I can still taste the first slick of tongue over flesh, still taste that salty sweetness. Soft whip of tongue against you, feeling all breath leave your body and every muscle dig in upon itself. The involuntary shudders that rippled through you.

The sensations from your satisfaction still linger, the images of bringing you to that edge over and over before letting loose. Muscles ache and remember the stroke of flesh against flesh, swallowing whole and taking. Drowning in the sounds and the feel and the taste and the scent, an ocean of arousal and want. Creating mental tattoos. Watching you let loose, come apart and then all the pieces of you falling back together, altered.

The sounds of your pleasure were the lullaby that sang me to sleep.

What a wonderful dream.

***

Happy Saturday.

N.

12:48 p.m. - 2004-07-17

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next