I'm back- I was feeling a bit anti-social for a while and then took off for London for a short time, but I'm back now.... I missed you
I write, sometimes for work, writing copy or some inane product description, I write blogs detailing the passage of my days, I write stories of far off lands and some not so much further off than my own minds eye, and yes I write letters to loved ones, friends and family, but I never feel so fulfilled, so contented and filled with warmth, as when I write of a hand on your back, or the flutter of your eyelash against my chest. I don't quite know when it happened but you have captivated my mind, and become muse to me, perfectly imperfect and all the more beautiful for it.
The "intensity of of the touch", the subtle touch, the gentle finger falls like kitten's breath along your stomach as you lay back in bed with your eyes fixed on mine and my eyes all the same to yours. No smiles, just the sincere look of intention mirrored in one another's faces as those kitten fingers step ever closer to your now shivering thighs and then between. So dangerous a gesture, so sweetly given, so eagerly received. Your back arches in approval of my advance. And as my fingertips find there place amidst your delicate garden your eyes roll back, lids shut with a squeak of your breath, and my blessing.
I lean over to kiss each closed eyelid as your body tenses and writhes in pleasure. Your hands, both wrapped around my forearm forbidding the removal of my busy stimulae, not that it were even a slight consideration. And finally a silent scream as a pulse of energy rushes through every single nerve in that tiny body... curling you into a rigid form, a sculpture shaped by the twin tools of delight and adoration.
My hand returns to me, and with a discreet and singular motion I climb over and behind you in bed to wrap you safe and tight in these arms so that we might find our way into the land of Nod, as one.
Hmm, I like the way you make me think...
Sweet Dreams Kid-
Slainte-
I write, sometimes for work, writing copy or some inane product description, I write blogs detailing the passage of my days, I write stories of far off lands and some not so much further off than my own minds eye, and yes I write letters to loved ones, friends and family, but I never feel so fulfilled, so contented and filled with warmth, as when I write of a hand on your back, or the flutter of your eyelash against my chest. I don't quite know when it happened but you have captivated my mind, and become muse to me, perfectly imperfect and all the more beautiful for it.
The "intensity of of the touch", the subtle touch, the gentle finger falls like kitten's breath along your stomach as you lay back in bed with your eyes fixed on mine and my eyes all the same to yours. No smiles, just the sincere look of intention mirrored in one another's faces as those kitten fingers step ever closer to your now shivering thighs and then between. So dangerous a gesture, so sweetly given, so eagerly received. Your back arches in approval of my advance. And as my fingertips find there place amidst your delicate garden your eyes roll back, lids shut with a squeak of your breath, and my blessing.
I lean over to kiss each closed eyelid as your body tenses and writhes in pleasure. Your hands, both wrapped around my forearm forbidding the removal of my busy stimulae, not that it were even a slight consideration. And finally a silent scream as a pulse of energy rushes through every single nerve in that tiny body... curling you into a rigid form, a sculpture shaped by the twin tools of delight and adoration.
My hand returns to me, and with a discreet and singular motion I climb over and behind you in bed to wrap you safe and tight in these arms so that we might find our way into the land of Nod, as one.
Hmm, I like the way you make me think...
Sweet Dreams Kid-
Slainte-
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
kg:
thank god you're back.
arrabbiata_von_p:
thanks eheheheheh i actually make all those faces normally when i speak, but i dont show my ass same way 