*sigh*
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All posts for the month December, 2014
The days that lead to weeks into months were filled with memories and fantasies of the next time she would see him. Taste him. Kiss him. Smell him. More often than not those fantasies were fueled by a longing that was palpable and an as of yet, unquenchable desire for him.
The days leading up to their reunion, visions of that first kiss and tight embrace would give way to memories of his touch. The way his hands are large and firm yet baby soft. A simple caress down the length of her arm slays her, leaving her a quivering mess. The feel of his beard at the base of her neck sends her sex juices spilling and then he proceeds to torture her with firm yet slow and teasing lovemaking. she sigh out loud at the thought.
And yet, as soon as they kiss in the hallway, not far from his room, slow and sweet is the furthest thing from her mind. She devours each of his kisses as if she’s never been kissed before, grabbing his face and pulling herself up on her tiptoes as she enjoys the feel of his beard along his strong jawline. And then he growled.
Something in her snapped as she grabbed at his belt, fumbling about to undo it as he takes his hands off of her swollen breasts long enough to unhook her bra. Looking up at him she grins and slides to her knees, bringing his jeans down around his legs along with her. Her fingers tremble as she reaches into his boxers to reveal his hard, delicious cock. Oh god, his cock. How she’s longed to flick her tongue across the silken smooth head before engulfing it with her mouth, salivating in lust as she spends time worshipping at the altar of his deliciousness. Her hands fast at work, touching him, caressing his balls and tickling that soft patch of skin between his balls and his ass, she’s wet in anticipation and yet still lets out a “hmpf” and pouts when he can’t take it any longer and pulls her up, tossing her backwards on the bed.
“Get on your hands and knees” he commands, as if he has to command at all. She finds herself on all fours, pushing her ass back at him, not wanting to wait. No, don’t make me wait she moans and with that first deep thrust he sets off a frenzy he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. She has no other thought than to cum and cum hard. Fast. She was wound tight and begged for that blessed relief. The relief that only he knew how to coax from her multiple times, time and time again. “Oh god lover, please don’t stop” she whimpers, “don’t stop. fuck me. hard. use me. take me. harder.” the words tumble out over one another. “Slow down Baby” he huskily implores “we have time.”
She grinds back in answer, her pussy clenching and demanding as her hips undulate. Looking for the best angle to impale herself on his glistening cock. The scent of their co-mingled sex only further fanning her fire. “Shut up..” she mewls as her eyes rolls to the back of her head and she gives into the pleasure she gasps as she falls over the edge.
Indeed. There is something about that moment, when you experience that kiss that sends you tumbling headlong into an abyss. Exhilarating, terrifying, and reverberating.
It’s the kiss that many don’t believe exists. While attending a fundraising event that another friend is the chair of, the frenemies and I were reminiscing about first kisses. At various stages of one’s life. Whether it’s that first innocent kiss when in grade school and a crush steals a kiss (or you do) on the cheek. Or middle school and the first game of spin the bottle, or even that first awkward kiss when someone leans in for a kiss you weren’t expecting. And then of course the memories of those first kisses when in high school and in the throes of first love or the teenage hormone fueled years to those first months in college. At some point, the memories became more current if you will, in the more recent past than distant.
One of the women, sobbed that she has never had a first kiss, or any kiss that felt like *that*. Everyone immediately tried to make her feel better by saying things like: “oh i’m sure you have, you might not remember it”, or “surely that’s what you experience with sam?”, “it doesn’t mean you don’t love sam.” to which she sobbed again and said “no, it’s not that. it’s that I don’t know what that feels like. maybe it doesn’t exist.” After closer introspection, and that extra glass of wine, some of the frenemies spoke candidly about kissing. Many of them don’t like it, not at all . It isn’t their spouses or significant other but something that they just don’t enjoy. A couple of women said that they like kissing but their partners don’t. None of what we were saying made Heidi feel any better.
Later, after the topic had changed and we were all involved in various, separate conversations, I found myself alone with Heidi, she wasn’t crying any longer but she was subdued and an air of melancholia was all about her. Emme went to use the restroom and Heidi looked over at me and asked me point blank if I’ve ever experienced that kind of first kiss, the kind that brings to home how lonely you were until that point. I don’t know Heidi well, she’s part of the frenemies from well before I met them, but in that moment I understood exactly what she was asking. What she was searching for. I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye and said “Not in my entire life. Until a few years ago.”
She put her head in her hands but I could still hear her utter “I thought I was the only one.”…
I love to read. I may have written about this love of mine here or there. But I do. Sometimes, when the day has been too much or I just need a break, a good book has always been a trusty escape.
There are a few folks that work on the new team I’m part of that seem to like having a new kid on the block, even if I am old enough to be their older sister, and they’ve been stopping by these past two weeks offering up books they’ve read they think I’d enjoy. Some are work related, some are tech related but the majority are fiction and of varying genres.
Granted, it could be that they are cleaning out their offices and are too lazy to put their books in the common “up for grabs” area of our building, but some are new complete with gift receipts. I’m not sure what to make of it…though I do love a good read now again.
And so another blogger is moving along. It’s not just about him but also about a promise he made to someone important to him. Someone who has left a handprint on his heart and has shown him what could be. That he has written his farewell so beautifully only makes me hopeful that I haven’t heard the last of voice albeit a newer voice sometime in the future. Farewell for now Jason…
moments. strung together. virtually. in real life. moments.
it’s been so long. in her mind it’s been forever. walking down the long hallway, she’s distracted by the jumbled thoughts tumbling about her mind when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a buzzing rushes through her being. looking up, a gasp escapes as she feels her smile grow wider and her knees go weak. before she can take a breath he’s right in front of her. even with her blue suede heels on she has to look up. and in that nanosecond her heart drops into her stomach.
and then the freefall she experiences each an every first time they kiss. and they are kissing. he’s kissing her and she’s kissing him. she isn’t sure if the tears that threaten to spill over are tears of the built up longing or the tears of sadness that are sure to come in less than 30-hours later when they say farewell. again. just as her knees buckle his arms go around her, supporting her, pulling her closer into him. she’s missed him. dammit. she’s missed herself with him. she’s missed. this.
she recalls the sound of the door closing and her briefcase barely comes to rest on the couch when he pulls her close again. falling. that’s all she is aware of. the sensation of falling. the blur of her dress hitting the floor and the way her body responds to his low growl of approval at the sight of her wearing the nipple-less bra just for him. no mention of the most recent surgical scars or other changes due to treatments. unbridled desire and the need to touch her. to taste her. to reassure her that he is indeed real.
they finally part long enough to say “hey” as she takes in their temporary haven. five. three. five.
Blogging is a funny thing and it’s most definitely a personal thing. It’s not uncommon to find a blog, a voice that resonates and you follow them, reach out and connect. Some bloggers are prolific, committed, dedicated. Posting at least once a day. Others are consistent in some manner and then there are others that are consistently inconsistent. Unless blogging is the source of someone’s income, some bloggers take a break or go on hiatus and some decide that it’s time to move onward from whatever it was that motivated them to begin blogging in the first place. Sometimes we get a heads up or a farewell post, but more often than not, folks have to go, for whatever reason.
Such is the case with Complicit Grace. A blogger I started to follow before I started this blog. A fellow former HR executive on a journey with many side trips. A woman finding her voice and what a powerful voice it is. Honest, genuine, vulnerable and strong. I don’t know if she’s still lurking and reading through everyone’s blogs or if she is completely detaching from the inter-webs for a while. I can only say that I hope she has found the strength required to move forward, that she’s been able to run like the wind in throughout the Portland area, that she’s found peace but more importantly that she is okay. I am going to miss her. Truly.
the feel of his skin next to mine. the rough hewn of the hair that covers his body and the softness of his full beard between my thighs. or at the back of my neck before traveling down my back. or the delicious curve of the head of his cock, smooth, silky, hard. the way my lips wrap around his hard shaft and his hips twitch and buck.
his scent. clean. him. mixed with mine. our scent. the way it lingers in the air. my desire to submit to his every whim. the need to feel him. hard. harder. more.
the reverberation of life coursing through my body as reclaims what is his. thoroughly. completely. my mind blank as my only desire is to follow his lead and discover more of the me he sees. he knows. he owns.
is me is really me 