whileiwasdreaming

[whileiwasdreaming]

Seasoned by taste

It has taken a while for my cooking skills to get to the point I felt comfortable asking for her pasta sauce recipe. It's not an old family recipe or anything secretive, I simply want to have a reasonable shot at having it come out palatable if not good.

It's then she tells me that she doesn't have an actual written recipe, but that she simply adds the ingredients, mixes, and tastes. Rinse, repeat until it's "right". In other words, an expert mode adventure where I'm all but certain to fail miserably.

As luck would have it, she added, "Just come over, I'll show you" in that voice that makes anything seem possible, "You can take whatever notes you need, but I'm sure you'll do fine either way."

That evening I get to the kitchen and see she has all the ingredients on the counter ready to go. Nice big tomatoes, some cloves of garlic, finely diced onion, parsley, basil, oregano and all the things you'd expect. I honestly couldn't identify everything because I'm still so green in the kitchen that unless it's labeled, it will be an educated guess at best.

With her apron cinched up, she smiles, points to the braiser and refers to it by name -- "Braiser. We'll add some EVOO and when ready throw in the onions and garlic to get this going".

Watching her work, even when I'm being teased, is a treat. Like a chef, she makes it look so easy. Before long in go the tomatoes and herbs and dashes and pinches from her long beautiful fingers. "Now we cover and let it simmer for a bit". A bit? My brain does not register that as an amount of time, but I'll note the time and when we check, I'll calculate the difference.

Fourteen minutes later, we check on the sauce. Like magic, it's looking like pasta sauce, not that I'm actually surprised. She's magic so of course it does.

Pulling out a fresh wooden spoon, "now we taste", she comments. I move closer behind her, place my hands on her hips to make sure I don't bump her into the stove and lean in. The fragrance from the sauce is divine. Lifting the spoon to her soft lips, she takes a taste and lets out a gentle, "Mmmmm. Just needs a pinch of paprika and it will be just right".

Twisting to her left where I'm leaning around her enjoying the smell nearly as much as the feel of her body in my hands, the spoon makes it slowly to my mouth for a taste. It is delicious as is, but if she says it needs paprika, I'm not going to argue with her.

A bit of sauce drips down from the corner of my mouth and instinctively her finger rises up to wipe it away. Always in "mom mode" no matter what.

With the seasoning added and a few more minutes of simmering and stirring it's ready for the next taste test.

I hustle over to the stove and as I reach my hands out to again lay my hands on her hips, she turns, the spoon already up to her mouth. We bump and more sauce than expected makes it's way to her lips and a wooden spoon sized area around them. I couldn't help but begin to snicker, but she didn't miss a beat. "Ok, now it tastes right".

Seeing the spoon is empty, I did what any sensible man would do. I leaned in and gave her a lingering kiss on those saucy lips.

Her eyes opening slowly after the kiss, I made sure to look deep into them and remark, "I'm no chef, but I think your lips were the missing ingredient." She smirked and retorted, "and don't you forget it".

After dinner and cleaning up, it was nice to know I was right. Seconds and thirds of her lips, even without the sauce was, remains my favorite flavor.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Meeting Mom

Second date and already meeting mom? That seems fast, but there are some people you'll do anything to make them happy.

Hally's mom met us at the restaurant, coming straight from work, having helped a single mother retain custody of her infant. I think I'd be more ready for her left cross than a cross examination at the table.

The questioning was tepid and I wasn't sure whether my answers were that good or if she knew from the outset she was going to tell her daughter she was far too good for me. She wouldn't be completely wrong, but would clearly be underestimating my consistency and effort.

Hally excused herself from the table so she could go to the ladies room which gave way to my first way to show visible effort.

Quickly getting up, I helped Hally from her chair like a gentleman from the 50's, gave her a peck on the cheek and slid her chair back in as she made her way across the room.

I may have stood there watching her walk a little too long, for as I turned back to the table and begin to sit, Hally's mom fixed her gaze upon me. Part of me wanted to shout, "Objection!" to deflect my nervousness with humor, but I didn't take that chance and that's when my nervousness got the best of me.

"Ms Eriksson", I said a bit timidly

She remained quiet, but the look on her face softened a bit as this monologue came pouring out.

Your daughter is the most beautiful person I've ever met. Not just on the outside, that much is apparent to anyone who isn't blind, but on the inside. She has the biggest heart and is a light that even a black hole could not extinguish. She gives, she loves, she sacrifices. For those she cares about, she wants nothing but the best for them. She is creative, she is brilliant, she is funny, and lord knows she can be ridiculously silly. I adore each and every atom that makes her who she is. Who you've had a hand in making her into. I want you to know a couple of things. First and foremost, I have zero interest. None whatsoever in her changing anything about herself. I simply want to be a part of her life and not just watch her grow and blossom into the person she'll become, but to be an active part of her life that supports and encourages her to become the person she wants to become. Secondly, I assure you, she'll get nothing short of 100% effort and 100% respect. Not just sometimes and in public, but every. single. day. In public and especially behind closed doors. And speaking of respect, know I won't make a spectacle of things, but I won't tolerate anyone. anyone. disrespecting her. I'd never drive a wedge between her and anyone she cares about, but I'll do all I can to make sure she is happy and safe and that her light never dims.

I pause for a moment to catch my breath and she responds in a slightly confused tone, "why are you telling me this and why didn't you say it while she was sitting here?"

"Because", I said, "she knows all this and I didn't want to embarrass her. She knows I think she is amazing."

"I see. And I see she is heading back."

"One last thing", my voice speaking a bit quickly, "Is she carrying a nerf gun? I need to know right away."

"She is.", Ms Eriksson replied, "I'd have told you sooner that there was one for you under the table, but you were busy telling me how sweet my daughter is", as she chuckles, "oh, the irony!".

I took two shots to the back that night and one in the bum as I tried to grab my weapon out from under the table. I managed to get one round off that missed and landed in some poor woman's bowl of soup. Nerf bullets do a surprisingly good job of not absorbing liquid!

Hopefully the worst mom has to say about me is I talk too much and I am a terrible shot.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Three Words

He quietly said to her as they continued to grow close, “You will not say the words yourself, but they are the same words on my lips, aren’t they?”

“Will you please just say it”, she asked.

Like an idiot, he found reason to hold back, citing the burden such a declaration brings.  The fear of those words kept him from stating what was already obvious and wounding her in the process.

“For the rest of my life, I will regret not saying them when asked”, he thought as they bid each other a good night., “But I believe I will regret it far more not saying them, at all.”

“I love you, Beth”, came out, but was it was a second too late.   There was no response.  

[whileiwasdreaming]

Do you even know her name?

It is entirely possible to explode with love from little more than a feeling.

Never seen with your own eyes. Is she tall to where even kneeling before you she barely has to look up?  Is she short and even on her tiptoes needs you to bend a bit to kiss her lips?  Is she petite and you worry about hugging her too hard?  Perhaps she’s zaftig and soft you happily melt right into her.  Are her eyes blue or green or hazel and are the whites clear or bloodshot from trauma.  Maybe her smile is wide and toothy or perhaps her lips remained closed but shows just as much joy.  Are her nails long and manicured ready to glide down your back, or have then been chewed to the quick from countless hours of worry?  A picture is worth more than a thousand words for sure.

Never heard her voice.   Is it loud and boisterous or soft and sensual? Does she snort when she laughs?  Does she struggle for air when she cries?  Would your heart race when she whispers your name in your ear?

Never smelled her coming.  Does she choose a strong fragrance, something subtle, or simply go au nautrale?  Would you recognize it on the sweater she left on the bed?  How about the panties on the floor?

She’s sweeter than honey.  Is that her lip balm you taste?  Is she salty after making love? Do those panties on the floor give way to the taste she leaves in your mouth?  Does the nape of her neck have a flavor distinctly different from the soft spot just above her knee?

Smooth as silk.  How does she feel?  Smooth and soft, cared for like the precious gift she is?  Or is it a bit more rugged and beaten down by the elements, time, and hardships?  Do your fingers fall through her hair or are they caught on countless waves and curls until they reach the ends.

With little more than yearning, anticipation, and thoughts it’s amazing how one can still come to one of life’s ultimate pleasures.  And truly feel touched.  To feel wanted, desired, blessed.

To get there without intention, fully vulnerable, feeling everything, tasting her, with no sound by your own to call out her name.  And as you come down from such great heights it hits you.  What do you really know?  You don’t even know her name ... yet.  But you do know how she makes you feel.  And truly, what’s more important?  Besides finding her of course.

[whileiwasdreaming]

I knew she was sweet

Sprawled across the pillows in the nook, I stared aimlessly up at the stars. Hours of coding before had my head filled with logic and process and this spot was where I could let it drain away.  Filtered by the trees and brush covering the mountainside, the stars and fresh air cleanses my mind slowly but surely.

I hear the sliding glass door open and Valerie’s bare footsteps cross the wooden deck.  She sighs as she draws near, having spent the better part of the last hour feeding the baby and putting her down for the night.

Contorting my neck to lookup at her, she flashes an exhausted smile.  "Scooch”, she says, motioning me to move to the side with her free hand.  A book in the other.  I yield the corner spot to her, a place where she can lean back to relax and enjoy some time reading before bed.  Her arm outstretched, I nuzzle into her as she tenderly pulls me in.

The side of my face gently rests against the fullness of her breast.  It is so soft and comforting and safe.  

Nearly an hour passes when I detect a bit of sweetness in the air. I don’t recall her bringing a treat or cocoa.  My eyes strain to look across, trying not to move and interrupt her reading.  Val’s t-shirt has soaked through in a couple of spots and it didn’t take long for me to ascertain the source of the smell.

With my free hand I reach across and touch her shirt, swirling my finger around her nipple before pulling it back and putting that same, now damp, finger in my mouth as I gaze up to her face.

“The bar is closed, mister”, Val uttered quietly, “You think you’re special or something?”.

“I’m not?”, I questioned back quickly.

She sets her book down on the table, face down, spine open to where she stopped reading.  “Come here baby,” she spoke, while pulling me to my side and my lips up to hers. Planting a warm wet kiss exactly where it was needed and despite our faces being inches apart, I see her smile and the look in her eyes made it clear -- I am kind of special.

Cradling my head, she slipped her t-shirt off her shoulder exposing her beautiful, heaving left breast. In what seemed like a single motion, pulled my face to her body and lifting her breast to my mouth.  I was stunned as she whispered, “Now latch on” in that baby talk voice as she rubbed a finger across my cheek.

Almost instinctively my mouth widened and drew her in well past the areola. I could feel her hardened nipple grazing the top of my mouth as I began to suckle. I’ve always enjoyed her breasts, but this seemed so different.  Val’s free hand now stroking the side of my face I could feel her milk coming down and pooling in my mouth.   I swallow and continue to gently feed on her sweetness.  

The best I can describe the intimacy is -- here is this beautiful woman, literally giving me a part of herself to nourish me as she soothes my soul. How could anyone possibly do more for another? I can see now how the baby falls asleep doing this.  The comfort and love was undeniable.

I unlatch and stretch myself up to her face which is staring lovingly down at mine.  After licking the spilled drops off my lips, I give her as soft and devoted kiss as I can.  “Thank you”, I said, “I just knew you were sweet”.

She playfully calls me a dork and pushes me away.

I get up, stretch, and yawn.  “No tip?”, she asks, “I reopen the bar just for you and I don’t get a tip?”

“Babe, I will pick you up right now, carry you into our bedroom, and I promise you, you will get way more than the tip.”

Val raises up from the nook, grabs my hand, and leads me back into the house.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Spoon

I needed to be the little spoon, last night To feel soft flesh against my back; your arm pulling me tight

Your sound. Your touch. I craved it all, on my way to sleep To awaken as the bigger spoon and worthy of your keep

I wanted to be the little spoon, this morn But alas you were not here; leaving me forlorn

It is but a single moment, for which I shall endure A touch of breath across my flesh, now you know the cure

When I am the bigger spoon, you’ll be tight against my chest My arm wrapped around you, my hand cups your breast

Lips will whisper in your ear, all the words of how I feel Some day the fantasy I desire shall emerge and be real

[whileiwasdreaming]

Intimacy

There is nothing more intimate than a soft, moist, long-lasting kiss.

True intimacy is revealing the most raw stripped-down version of yourself and allowing you to get close to another person, both physically and mentally.  It is basking in a person’s taste, taking in their scent, and crawling into their fucking heart.

Kissing encompasses all of that.  It is the great metaphor for intimacy. We allow the essence of a person to land on our tongues, and as we kiss, we breathe each other in -- the good and the bad.

If someone doesn’t tell you they “love you, most ardently” in the pouring rain while looking at your lips like they desperately want to kiss you then what even is the point?

[whileiwasdreaming]

Mea culpa

While warned, I’m overcome with guilt because "don’t take it personally” doesn’t mean it isn’t my fucking fault.  The proverbial straw to break a camel’s back may not be the sole cause, but it has the distinct dishonor of being the last cause.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote:

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice.  Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

Papa had it right and I’m growing tired of trying to be my best. 

The deep sadness I find in this brief chapter of my story isn’t of something unrequited, but of something unexplored.  I don’t know if I like you or love you, want you or need you.  What I knew is that I loved the feeling I got when I thought of you. 

Don’t take it personally, you won’t be the final straw to destroy me; that too will be my distinct dishonor.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Internal Monologue #181,004

I must be the only person on earth that legitimately can’t remember the last time they kissed.  I can remember kissing.  Hell, I remember kissing my first girlfriend (decades ago) and the awkwardness of having no idea what I was doing.  It was clumsy and mechanical, yet memorable. 

Be pragmatic man!  Have I kissed anyone today?  No!  Duh!  That’s silly to ask myself.  Ok, perhaps not silly if I’m honestly trying to figure this out.

Have I kissed anyone this week.  Negative ghostrider.

This month?  We’re at the beginning and this week spanned the month, so obviously not.  Last month?  Nope.  Month before that?  Nope.

This year?  No.  Seriously?  Serious!  That’s over 9 months, self! 

How about 2017?  Jesus!  Not that year either.  Fuuuuuck.

2016?  I really have no idea.  This is fucking sad.  [sigh]

OK, I remember one.  I remember!  When was that?  OK, I know I posted a picture on Facebook (not related to the kiss) that will give me a good estimate of when that was.

Wow.  August.  2014.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Thoughts of her were the only thing more delicious than my lunch today.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Dreaming of a dream

In my dream I wake to find her laying next to me; her hair disheveled from the love I’m sure we’d made.  A grey cotton sheet is partially pulled up over her to keep the cool morning air at bay, yet leaving her bare shoulders exposed to seduce me as I gaze longingly while she peacefully sleeps. I imagine her slowly opening her eyes, smiling, and sharing my contentment of a new day.  She raises her arm to rest her hand on her left temple and looking towards me, her eyes demand a kiss.  I can do nothing but comply when her wants intersect with my desires.

Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face, and shed myself of the remaining glimpses of a dream.  My eyes steadily gain focus to find the blue cotton sheet spread smoothly across the unused side of the bed leaving it empty and cold. The realization of her not being here makes me lament for a love that hasn’t happened yet. I sit up, drag my feet off the bed, and wipe away the running tears.

I spend my day seeking solace and awaiting nightfall for the chance to be reunited with the woman that occupies my heart.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Hands

Sometimes the best you can do is be there.  Beth was feeling down and I desperately wanted make things better and bring that loving smile back to life. I would do just about anything.

We sit quietly side by side in a dimly lit room.  Waves of music flow past trying to wash away the thoughts which haunt her.  She leans against me, her head fitting neatly into the crook of my neck.  The curls of her soft dark hair cascade over her cheek and stream down upon my chest.

My right arm drapes around her with my hand loosely cupping her shoulder; she knows I can hold her tightly when needed. Her slender fingers rest inside the comfort of my upturned palm. My thumb rises and falls, flowing across the back of her hand, eventually spilling into the indentations left from the rings she wore earlier.

The flesh becomes increasingly warm and soft as I caress her hand.  Between some songs, I lift her hand to my lips and give it a kiss before I carefully return it to my lap.  Dozens of songs have filled the room when she lifts her head and turns to me.  “How about a cookie?” I ask, in a hushed tone.

Beth gives me a slight smile.  “Yes, please.”

I lean away, brush away the single tear from her eye. Rising from the couch, my lips find hers through the darkness to give her a comforting kiss.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Who’s Happening?

Why this man, who women literally fight over to date, would ask me for advice is the question of the day.  His relationship with Karen; however, was a bit different in that she had no problem walking away.  She liked him.  A lot.  But she was only willing to commit herself to him as much as he committed to her.  For Steve, that’s a tough position.  He could be with the sweetest (and hottest) woman, but then “oh shiney!” and he’s off chasing someone else.  

“I don’t know, man”, Steve explained, “she’s different.  She might be the one” as he sulked sipping his beer.  “Now she’s moving across the country and I might not see her again.  I think I love her.”

Steve has used many a four-letter word, but I’ve never... never heard him use the L-word.  So I give him my impassioned, rambling, semi-coherent speech:

Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.

“You make that sound so easy man”, he says with a sigh.  I continue:

Fuck no.  It’s hard as hell and feels impossible. Rejection is real.  Or maybe things just don’t work out.  But there is one thing that can never be taken away from you -- the fact that you tried.  And with that, you’ll have no regrets.

Steve thought about it, dropped a twenty on the table to cover the beers and said, “Thanks man.  I knew I could count on you.”

Now you’re probably wondering what happened.  Yeah, me too.

I never saw Steve again, but the romantic in me likes to think he chased Karen down and that they now have the two and a half kids and a house with a white picket fence. 

The realist in me figures he either chickened out or did chase her down, but has since been served divorce papers for banging the young chick working the counter at a Circle-K.

Me?  It’s far more complicated which leaves me with a free beer to drown my sorrows and the knowledge that I can give good advice without taking it. See, I happen to people, it’s what I do.  What I need is to matter to someone.  When that happens, I may never recover.

[whileiwasdreaming]

As you wish

The thud of the closing door vibrates in the distance and Liz cries out, “Hey babe!  I’m here”.  She stops at the mirror in the hallway, adjusts her blouse which became a little disheveled from her drive.  A little touch up to the minimal makeup she wears and she’s primped and ready to go.  A couples lunch date awaits.

“I’m in the shower”, comes echoing back to her ears, “I won’t be long, I promise”. I do like Liz’s sister, but the thought of lunch at a noisy place that I’m not familiar with and on top of that meeting the sis’s new beau just doesn’t have me flying out the door.  But it will make Liz happy and she really shouldn’t have to brave it alone.

I”m all soaped up and I hear the music of Coldplay begin floating through the house.  Chris Martin singing “Don’t Panic” brings back memories of the first time I set eyes on Liz.  The lyrics “we live in a beautiful world” were never more  apropos.  Those images of her instantly excite me.  Given our upcoming event, I knew I had to handle this promptly.

I spread my feet wider and grabbed hold as suds flowed down my burgeoning erection.  My minds eye adrift in memory, the rate of strokes slowly climbed with my manhood lubricated by the soapy mess.  

The sound of metal hitting tile caught me by surprise, but by this point I was committed.  My eyes slowly opened looking towards the opening of the shower where the clear bricks end allowing one to step into far end of the basin.  There she stood, her silver and turquoise belt in hand with end touching the tile floor.  I was stunned.  I simply stared at her beautiful face and continued touching myself.  Her expression was dead neutral.  No smile, no frown as she gazed back not moving another step.  My pace had slowed and the conflict crept in -- do I stop and apologize or do I just continue on and hope her eventual reaction isn’t of disgust.  She has always been a good girl with only a hint of naughty.

Coincidently, R.L. Burnside’s “It’s a Bad You Know” begins playing throughout the house.

Her hand let go of the belt and it clanged to the floor startling me and causing me to shiver.  With no new reaction on her face, I did see she was focused on my hand and part of her lower lip was pulled in by her teeth.  I kept the pace slow to allow the image to soak into her memory.

After what felt like a hour show, I decide to just go for it.  I reached out and pulled Liz into the shower.  Her clothes became shear as the water began soaking in.  The change was like the cross fade between videos.  The light blue linen blouse changed from a textured garment to almost transparent.  Her nipples clearly hardening underneath as the water flowed down.  I just didn’t care anymore -- I’ll buy her a new damn shirt -- so grabbed hold and ripped it open, buttons flying and bouncing off the walls and slid it off her shoulders and to the ground.

My widened mouth lunged to her breast, taking in as much as it could.  My lips rubbing across the areola as I closed down, nursing her like a newborn.  Unlatching, my tongue flicks her hard nipple as it passes by and lips begin kissing her velvety breast.  Kisses from the breast and up the chest on the way up to her neck I know so well.  I kiss the beauty mark there that is distinctive before jumping up to briefly nibble her earlobe and moan in her ear.

It wasn’t the smoothest of motions as our noses collided before our lips finally met haphazardly.  One hard kiss planted after another.  Our tongues just couldn’t be contained in either mouth and danced with one another at will.

My hands flattened at her lower back and wedged themselves between her smooth skin and now soaked panties and skirt.  Breaking away from the furious kisses for a moment, I crouched slightly, feeling the plump curves of her bottom as I pulled her remaining clothes down into the filling basin.

Having risen back up and rejoining our lips, I felt her leg wrap around mine, rubbing from calf to thigh as it gained it’s grip.  My hands now behind her, cupping her ass to support her body, the other leg wound around pulling her tighter to me.  With a climbing like motion she rubbed herself hard against me, arms completely over my shoulders and clasped behind my back.  As she continued to grind, I freed one hand to try and guide myself into her.

She paused and her feet dropped, splashing as they resettled on the floor.  Backing away slightly, Liz took my hand.  Fingers interlaced, looking me square in the eyes, and in an uncharacteristically firm tone says, “I will be fucking you tonight.  But right now you will finish what you started.”   She then leaned back against the glass brick wall, our hands still bound and arms now every so slightly outstretched.  She had never demanded anything of me before knowing that the mere suggestion often got her what she wanted.  This, somehow, excited me more.

I watched as her eyes slowly lowered their gaze from my eyes to my chest to my genitalia. I grabbed grabbed my rock hard cock and slowly caressed it.  As my hand neared the end, my thumb sweeps across the head.  She licked her lips as she stared intently not noticing that I continued to watch her.  I could hear her breath get heavy on each stroke, lips twitching and biting.  One one pass I noticeably throbbed as she licked her lips as one might contemplating a tasty dessert.

I did all I could to maintain my composure and keep the show going; however, Liz needing a release of her own used her free hand to touch herself and add to the experience.  Her moaning while not just touching herself, but eyes focused on me became to much and my pace quickened.  “Please.”, she said repeatedly within her moan,  “Please cum for me”.

As if by her command, I let out a primal grunt ejecting a warm stream hitting the very hand she was pleasuring herself with.  Flipping her hand over, she rubbed my milky fluid between her blood filled lips.  Then with her fingers pushed what didn’t wash away inside her.  She orgasmed quickly from her now lubed fingers brisk penetration.

Continuing to stroke until flaccid,  the last drop finally fell to the water as Liz let out a big sigh.  With my other hand now free, I placed it on her hip and leaned in for a softer kiss.  Grabbing the hand sprayer, I meticulously rinsed us both off before guiding us out of the shower area.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, I gave her a quick pat down try and draped it across her shoulders so she could finish drying.

Liz: “You’re a jerk, you know, for ruining my outfit [pausing] but you’re the best for making my day”.

Me: So I’m the best jerk?

Liz: “That’s not what I said.... [giggling] jerk”

Me: I love you too.

Liz: “Don’t make me cry you dork.”

She puts her damp arms around me and lays a moist kiss on my lips, allowing our bare skin touch once more before getting dressed.

We eventually make it to town, casually late, and spot the new couple already seated on the patio.  We’re walking hand in hand, as usual, but with a little extra swing as we step.  Liz’s sister, Sarah, stands to greet us, her companion stands as well.  “This is Roger”, she says, introducing him to us and continues “Roger, this is my sister Elizabeth and her stalker”.  She says it in a clearly joking way, making note that it’s an inside joke.  Roger looks a bit puzzled, but smiles and gives the customary “Nice to meet ya”.

“Why is your hair wet”, Sarah queries Liz, “it was dry when you left? And weren’t you wearing your linen skirt?  And... [pause] oh, never mind.”

Roger continues to look a bit puzzled and he and Sarah look at one another.

Sarah explains with a sigh, “These two.[sigh] They act like they’re sixteen and can’t keep their hands off one another.  They’re probably playing footsy right now.”   We purposefully move our feet away from one another making a loud disturbance under the table as everyone leans a bit to the side looking under.  “Ok, maybe we didn’t catch them playing footsy today, but it happens. A lot!”   Liz’s hand, still in mine, I rub my thumb across the top of her hand and shoot her a rye smile.

“Ummmmmmm”, I say nervously, “If you could excuse us so we could go to the restroom.”

“For the love of god!”, Sarah belts out, exasperated.

Liz breaks out into laughter, “he’s kidding Sarah”

“Am I?”, I respond.

With a furrowed brow, “Yes, yes you are”, Liz replies sternly.

“As you wish”, I respond submissively.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Return from the show (cont)

(I could hear her breath quicken as her hips move closer to the edge and her loving aroma fills me.)

Liz moaned loudly as both hands grasped my hair eagerly pulling me inward, spreading her legs wider and devouring my face.  The moisture, the heat, her scent reached me before contact allowing my mouth to take in her thick clit as I became buried in her warmth.

She kept me pulled to, but not so firmly that I couldn’t maneuver through her wonderful playground allowing me to give every part its deserved attention.

Careful attention was given to suckling her labia from bottom to top, my lips pursed tightly to them as they pull away.  Every now and then my teeth gently gripping them to remind her exactly where they’ve been.

My tongue spread wide licks up her wet slit pressing against everything in it’s path only to come back down making small random motions.  How many licks would it take to get to her center?  As it danced across her hole she stiffened and pulled me in tight briefly penetrating her dampness while she moaned again.

As Liz relaxed she placed a leg on my shoulder giving me more room to please.  Her now engorged clitoris yearned for my attention.  My tongue slurped madly as she squirmed more and more.  Indecipherable sounds came from her as I practically nursed on clit and she began to shake.

I paused and tilted my head upwards to see her loving smile.  I knew she wanted more.

I had barely gotten off my knees, her juices dripping from my chin, that her hands unbuckled my pants and somehow pulled them to the floor.  The skills of a magician at work.

We rotated our bodies and settled snugly into the love seat, me draped upon her like a winter blanket.  Our eyes locked and I gave her a deep kiss.  Our tongues danced with one another only separating for us to get quick breaths of air.  The thought of her tasting her own flavor on my lips made my cock solid and ready.

My hips lifted away providing space for my manhood to slip by her well trimmed mound and slide slowly inside her.  She was warm and wet and it felt so good just resting there.

Her muscles twitched, clamping down briefly which brought my monster to motion.  Slowly easing in and out, I imagine the contours of my rod rubbed against her labia much like my pursed lips did earlier in the evening.  The head of my cock teasing her clit as it nearly exits her before diving back in.

As she grew tighter around me, the pace quickened until I could take it no longer.  A few rough thrusts and finally I plunged deeper than ever before and holding myself there as my cock throbbed almost violently.  Liz put her arms around me pulling me even deeper as I filled her with a warmth of my own.

We both relaxed and lay there.  Me still inside her.  

I reach up and push the hair from her face and sweat from her brow, cupping her cheek in my hand.  Leaning in I kiss her luscious lips and whisper softly in her ear, “Lizzy [pause] I love this skirt on you.”

[whileiwasdreaming]

Return from the show

The car lurched back as it came to a stop just feet from the garage door.  My left hand reaches awkwardly across my body to slip the gear shift into park.  This contortion kept her hand in mine for a few more seconds.   Liz had fallen asleep on the long drive back, a side effect of the darkened road that winds along the mountain and up to the house.

I quietly stepped out of the car and came around to the passenger side.  The cabin light must have roused her as she looked at me through the side window and smiled as I slowly opened her door.  I reached across and unbuckled the safety belt and stole a quick kiss as I backed my way out.  She took my hand as she rose from the car and closer to me.  Closing the door behind her, I guided her along the walkway to the house with my arm crossing the small of her back and hand gently resting on her right hip feeling every step.

Unlocking and opening the door, I make room for Liz to step into the foyer and make her way to the den.  I remain at the door to not only lock it, but enjoy the view as she saunters across the room.   Her white pleated linen and lace skirt wraps snugly across her hips where a silver chain belt adorned with turquoise rests loosely.

She drops herself into the love seat with a loud sigh as I enter the room.  “It’s been a long day babe, let me help you get those boots off”, I say as she lifts her outstretched leg from the floor.  First the left, then the right each boot being tossed to the side and making a thud as they hit the floor.  “I think your art show went well”.

“I agree, but it takes so much out of me sometimes”, she replied.

“I know hun.... stay put”, while I rise up and scurry into a neighboring room.

A sloshing sound follows me as I walk back into the den setting a small tub on the floor and placing Liz’s feet into the ankle deep water.  “Mmmm”, she exclaims as I run the cloth through the water and across her arches.

After a few minutes of soaking, she lifts her feet from the water and into the warm dry towel I pull from my shoulder.  Patting them dry, I take her right foot in my hand and gently massage her arch.  My fingers across the top, thumb pressing firmly into her sole making small circular motions.  There is a repeat performance for left.

“Thank you”, she says with a soft sigh of relief.

I lean in and plant a few kisses to her calf, slowly working my way up to her knee.  My eyes strain upward looking for a reaction of which there is none.  Feeling bold and with a hand on each knee, they slide upwards along her smooth thighs pushing her skirt along as I lick my lips making them moist again.

Gentle wet kisses are deposited on some of the softest skin I’ve ever felt along her inner thigh.  I could hear her breath quicken as her hips move closer to the edge and her loving aroma fills me.

[whileiwasdreaming]

Tingle

Looking over her mug having just taken another swig of morning brew, Beth asks “I wonder why I make you tingle?”

I can’t help but smile slyly.  

“Seriously”, she exclaims, “I’d like to know”, taking another sip.

If you insist...

“I do.”, responding quickly know it’s going to make me squirm.

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

With eyebrows furrowed, “Funny.”

Alright, alright.   Your smile, your smirk, your lips.  The way you scrunch your nose when you hold back a smile.  Your warm brown eyes when they look my way.  How your “make a goofy face” is adorable and two bare shoulders are seductive.  Simply put, you’re gorgeous.  You’re desired.

But wait!  There’s more! [with a Billy Mays tone]

You’re not just a pretty face, you have a beautiful inside.  Sure, it has it’s twists, turns and dark corners, but you’re nerdy, creative and romantic.  You crave, you yearn, you ache.  You feel in a way that makes me feel.  You make me tingle.