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Your hand comes to immediate and reassuring rest upon the small of my back, as it unfailingly does whenever you are lying next to me as I stir into awakening. We have shared this moment many times over the years, and this familiar yet ever unexpected gesture continues to move me. I sometimes ponder how a subtle, unabated desire for you has remained so alive and flame-like within me; familiarity so often dulls our sensitivity to the changing beauty of those we love.

We don’t sleep like spoons and our shared time is as sporadic and imperfect as the paradoxical creatures we ourselves are. We part for a time but always come back to each other to share the intimacy again.

Your hand knows (whether you yourself do or not) that I need its warmth, its current, its solidity, to bring my body to life. I have lived much without it, given our penchant for separations, but it is still the current of life to me, that hand on my back; it is my food, my desire, my reason. From your palm to the small of my bark and out through my belly, which rests flat on the surface of the bed, your solar glow begins its slow radiance, suffusing my heart with its warmth, flowing downward like molten lava over my Venusian mound, down farther, down the insides of my legs, stirring like lights the inner spaces below my ankles.

Perhaps you are still dreaming, unaware of this journey we have begun. It is as though your instinct is ahead of you, moving you toward me, drawing you from your solitary flight in the boundless universe of dreamland. I don’t know — can we ever know another’s experience directly? Still, my imagination seeks images of explanation; what is it at your deepest core that knows me? I don’t ask, I feel the current travel from you through me and out again; our molecules, heedless of our possible intent, begin their rhythmic intimate dance.

I listen to the sound of birds outside our room, then the sound of our breathing, now in unison, all of my senses coming alive. This time, this unique and unrepeatable time, I hear the rustling of the sheets as you stir. Moments pass. Your hand changes pressure ever so slightly. Our breathing is slow, rhythmic, relaxed, yet deeper.

My eyes, resisting morning, are still closed and I am awake within that light-darkness. You are wordlessly aware that I am awake; our ritual is silence. We are orphan-close, so far away in this moment from the day which will soon press in upon us. We are farther still from our differences, our troubles, far from who we often pretend we are, even to each other. Do we really even know each other? I think not. Yet, our intimacy is so complete that we are like one being in this quiet time of shared arousal.

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When I walked into the bar, I didn’t notice her at first. I sat in a booth in a dark corner and ordered a drink from the waitress.

The waitress returned with my drink, and when I went to pay her for it, she said it had already been taken care of by the blonde at the end of the bar. I looked, and there was Sandy, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. God, she was gorgeous! Wearing a white blouse, short black skirt, and black fishnet stockings, she sat with her legs crossed, and I could see far up her skirt. She was, without a doubt, the best looking woman in the place.

Sandy smiled at me, and, as she walked over to my table, I couldn’t help but notice her nipples, erect against the soft white silk of her low cut blouse, and the slow swaying of her breasts. She stood in front of me and asked if she could sit with me. “Sure”, I said, and she slid into the booth with me.

She told me that she was a receptionist in the hotel, and that she had just gotten off work a few minutes before. She said I looked like the kind of man she’d like to spend some time with, as she traced patterns on the inside of my thigh with her long nails. As she stroked my leg, her firm, warm breast pressed against my arm with urgency.

Sandy looked me in the eyes, and said she had a room upstairs and she’d like to take me there. She stood, took me by the hand, and led me out of the bar to the elevator. Arm in arm, the warmth of her body and the scent of her perfume were really getting to me! My cock was straining against the front of my pants, my balls tight and full.

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My wife Teri and I have a game going between us. She teases me with her sexy body and the sheer animal lust builds up inside of me. I hold out as long as possible, until I can’t stand it any more and I have to have her! Pretty fun game, huh? It can lead to some quite interesting (and wild) events.

A few nights ago she and I were playing a game of Scrabble. Sometime during the game she got up and left the room (“to use the restroom,” she said), and when she came back, she was wearing extremely revealing negligee. We managed to play a few more turns as my foot explored her sexy legs and body under the table, and my cock throbbed and threatened to bust out of my shorts like the Incredible Hulk. Then she jumped up, laughing, and ran out of the room. Oh was I horny!

I got up, grabbed the bowl of popcorn that was sitting next to the Scrabble board, and headed after her. “I’M COMING FOR YOU!!!” I yelled. “I’M GONNA RIP ALL YOUR CLOTHES OFF AND EAT YOU UP!!!” I could hear her shout from the bedroom, “Eeeeek!! A rapist cannibal!”

My dick was pointing straight out, leading the way down the hall. When I entered the bedroom, I saw her knockout body lying on the bed. She’d removed her bra and pulled on one of my old T-shirts.

“Here I come,” I whispered, and made drooling sounds like some sex maniac who’d broken into the house. She squirmed and writhed on the bed, saying “no, please, don’t hurt me, don’t eat me, I’ll do anything, please…” Her body writhed and undulated, the large breasts jiggling and moving back and forth underneath the T-shirt. I set the popcorn bowl on the nightstand and sat down on the bed next to her. My hands went out and landed on each side of her body. “No please don’t hurt me don’t eat me I’ll do anything don’t kill me” she whispered. Her boobs continued to wiggle and jiggle intoxicatingly, and my hands headed that way of their own volition. They came to her breasts and squeezed. “Ooooooh!” she moaned, as her whole body seemed to spasm in response to the feel of my clutching hands. That darn T-shirt was hiding those beautiful boobs, her delicious body. I had to look at it, feel it, lick it, kiss it! My hands slid down to the bottom front of the shirt, and took firm hold. Muscles flexing, fueled by intense horniness, my arms pulled my hands away from each other…

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Sweetheart, as I re-read your hot letter, I am right at his time eating grapes and I am thinking … of each as one closely resembling your [tag]nipples[/tag]. I touch one (the left one) with my tongue. It is glistening now as I flick my tongue back and forth over it. It begins to harden as my moist tongue probes it. I run my tongue back and forth over it as your nipple starts to elongate and resembles a thick fat eraser as it starts to become engorged. I am now savoring the flavor of the sweet slit of the moist opening in the grape. I know you would help me cup your warm breasts and squeeze it for me, so your nipple protrudes forward. That’s right my Sweet, squeeze it so the nipple stands out and pushes forward towards my mouth. Gee, I just blew a wisp of air onto it, and your teat got a bit more harder. You are so hot tonight my Darling.

I wish you were right here next to me and I didn’t have to imagine that these grapes resembled your nipples. I noticed too that both your aureolas are a darker brown than usual. This is due to you are now getting so hot for me during this foreplay. I savor your nipples again by pushing your left nipple by using my lower teeth to grip just under the bottom of your nipple. Now I can flick my tongue back and forth across your nipple and against the roof of my mouth. Oh yes, Darling I do! I can see that too is starting to drive you WILD!

I know you are starting to get very hot because you are trying to get my member out of my pants. But, WAIT…you want to my hot mouth to push your whole breast into my mouth…yes I know it feels good! You are moaning now…I am trying to push your whole fleshy mound into my mouth. I am slowly sucking it deeper and deeper until my whole mouth is now covering the whole firm fleshy mound. Yes I know if feels so good!

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Boy, it’s frustrating. This morning, the unseasonably cold temperature and a filling bladder ganged up on my short sleep cycle to wake me at 6:30. And, after I get up, I can’t get back to bed (not that I was particularly sleepy). So now I have to sit here and watch you not log in. Sigh.

I’ll pass the time somehow. Where was I? Kneeling in front of a tree in a park somewhere, I think. You standing before me, the breeze catching your hair and the airy fabric of your skirt. Concentrate on that for a moment — it could almost lift you away, couldn’t it? Perhaps if you held out those arms and breathed in, holding very still, the wind could just pick you up and steal you away with it.

I’ll have to hold you tighter, then; I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen. You’re feeling the breeze against your skin, tasting it through the stuff of your blouse and skirt, but you’re also feeling my hands on your bared hips, rubbing them gently to keep you warm. (Which works better? The friction of my palms against your skin, or the delirious feeling you get just from knowing my hands are pressed against you?) And, most of all, you feel my eyes.

I return to kissing your stomach, my lips barely moving but gliding across the silken surface of your stomach, painting it as if with camel’s-hair. It is one of the most frightening, ecstatic things I can imagine right now. It is, in fact, the only thing to surpass the delight I feel at sliding my fingertips around the waistband of your underwear, inserting them slightly underneath in order to taste the wonderfully extra-special taboo of your delta and lower hips. (click to read entire story…)