forty one (or, of a certain age), part 1…

Tonite, I dress for you. I consider your eyes on me, what outline might please you. I don’t wear a bra. I want to feel the soft fabric brush my nipples. I want the sides of my cupable breasts to imprint. I want your cock to leap with delight seeing my silhouette moving amidst the crowd.

Like it has before… and will again.

I only wear these lacy, delicate panties so that you can peel them off me – with your fingers and eventually, your mouth. Mmmm, your mouth. I wonder if anyone else will be able to smell my wet that is already aching for you? I rub lotion into my tawny skin, down and all around the length of my long, lean limbs and strong legs; who knows where you will kiss and nibble on me? Everywhere, I hope.

And suckle, too – pausing to dance your tongue in the crooks and nooks of my arms and knees — on my achilles — then sucking my velvet skin into your warm mouth. I want you to hear my gasp as I cry out, buck and barely prevent myself from squirting the truth of these secret niches of my bod, hiding in plain view.

I consider putting my hair up so that you can see my nape and the soft part below and just behind my ears… where moans spill out of me and my knees buckle when you kiss me there. Instead, I dab a trace of perfume there, leaving my dark mane loose and wild, draping down my back and over my shoulders.

I want to make it easy for you to picture the future: my naked body with yours, my head falling back, turning to look at you, your grip enfolded in the bouquet of my sex-soaked tendrils as my smiling mouth drops open, groaning my pleasure and praise-moaning your name.

Until then, we will mingle. And sit or stand just a little bit too close but not so close that anyone would really notice. I want to feel the heat off your body, feel it sinking into mine, through our clothes and modesty and public joviality. I want to feel your eyes on me as I walk away, towards, around you. I want to know that you are picturing all my skin underneath, feeling the energy of my passion and the delicious foreplay that is this waiting game. I want to look up from another conversation and see you already seeing me; my smile an echo to your wink. To this busy room, we seem miles apart but  like spidersilk, our need is weaving us closer, taut with longing to be inside the other.

Eventually, the gravitational pull of our… affinity… overwhelms decency and pulls us out onto the street. We slowly walk arm in arm, talking about the party and people and places and things until there, in the  shadow of stars and deepening night, you kiss me. Finally. You feel my body once more where you most need it: against you. Our lips trace back and forth and slowly, we venture deeper into the other’s mouth, taking pleasure in the evening’s palate. I can feel how each kiss  invisibly swirls down to charm my soft-as-plush clit and swelling lips. As in echo, the urgency of our kisses increase until our breath, audible, also steams.

I pull away. I don’t look at you right away, I just trace your neck, chest, and stomach. You watch me, as you do— as I know you like to. I pull on your waistband. I slip my finger in just far enough for you to feel the contrast of your ravenous heat and the cool night, just deep enough to feel my finger tip graze and circle the edge of your gloriously hard cock. We exhale. Deeply, looking into one another. We can’t help but smile.

Fuck, I love your smile, especially when it’s at me and I am in your arms. I suddenly want to tell you that your every touch has been a bookmark to favourite passages. But I don’t. Neither of us seems to know language in this moment; it’s just bodies and breath wrapped inside a gnawing need to be free. To know permission and passion. I can only show you… soon. Soon, when we are finally and fully alone.

— to be continued —

while the piano man played…

I return to you. My breath catches to see you there, framed by the doorway, ensconced in wedgewood and velvet. Oh, my: so unspeakably gorgeous, you.

You watch me as I walk towards you. The piano man does his thing. Again, I wonder at this meeting we have found, amazed anew: why in the world are you here… with me? Your expression is unreadable – so serious – so intent on me; I’m gripped with a sudden fear at what I cannot see and in it, the looming dark blinds me; I prepare to lose.

Then, ivory keys shimmy through me. The light returns and I don’t care who notices me dancing for you or how goofalicious it is. Your sweet smile seduces me once more. This. This is the peace I have learned to trust.

These are the things I will remember. These are the thoughts I am not brave enough to speak.

I look into your intense, soulful eyes. The room disappears and time stills; it is just you and me. Yet again, they transport me for seconds that feel like the gentlest of forevers. I am both full and empty. My chest aches with colours I only feel… words I wish I could paint.

Us: I whisper our names with my soul.
Us: looking at one another, trying not to give ourselves away…

Not for the first time, I breathe you in. To be with you like this changes me. Again, I am revealed… awakened to this  creature I have never been: one who can fully take care of myself, and yet who enjoys allowing you to take care of me, anyway.

It is nothing short of revolution, this revelation.
I caress your strong hand and hold your finger.
I follow you into the night.
It is not as dark as we were led to believe.