The room is dim and quiet, lit only by the muted gleam of a streetlight at the edge of the wet road outside. I look down from the window at the asphalt roadway, black and glittering with scattered diamonds of reflected light. Midnight rain falls in a hushed, steady shower, and the only other sounds are the soft raspings and throaty calls of night creatures celebrating the wetness and the dark.
A cool wind lifts and fills the curtains and curls around my body. I inhale deeply, drawing in the smell of the rain, the wet leaves, the moist earth.
When I turn from the window, I see you, naked and stretched at full length on the bed. My eyes lick you from toe to top and top to toe. You turn on your side, rest your head on your outstretched arm and look back at me, standing naked and backlit by the light from the window. The curtains billow around me like a velvet cape. Our eyes meet and we hold this gaze, unashamed of our nakedness.
Your body is a fine pen and ink drawing of line and shade and shadow outlining the dusky whiteness of your skin. My eyes caress the lines of your body. The soft white curve of your hips frames the dark triangular pool that lies between your legs. Anticipation wets my mouth and my thighs. I want to wait a little longer and savor the sight of you before the touching happens, extend the excitement of knowing that wanting will be fulfilled.
Soon I will dive into you, and you’ll close around me in waves and ripples. You reach out your hand, and I take it in mine. I raise it to my face and press your palm against my cheek, then bring it to my lips and kiss it. I hold your palm against my lips and promise in this touch that our loving will be slow and gentle.
You turn your hand to stroke my lips with your fingertips, tracing a path around the edges, then lightly brushing across them. Your fingers move along the line where my lips meet and part them to slide inside. Your fingers are dry and faintly salty at first, until my saliva wets and lubricates them. I close my teeth around your fingers and flick and lick them with my tongue. When I release them, you withdraw and slide them in again, slowly. I grasp your hand and suck at your fingers, greedy as a hungry child.
Your other hand is on my wrist, pulling me towards the bed until I’m kneeling beside you. Your fingers slip away from my lips, moving down to leave a wet trail along my chin, my neck and between my breasts. Your hands find mine, and you intertwine your fingers with mine. Your fingers slip between my outspread fingers, sliding through and back, then up, then down. The movement is frictionless and easy. I hold my hands still, fingers outspread, as you retrace the path between them, up to the tips of my fingers and back down to the sensitive V of flesh at their base.
Your fingers tighten as you clasp my hands and pull me down beside you. You move close so that our bodies come into contact, front to front. Your nipples are hard against my chest, and mine are erect and pressing against yours. I feel your heartbeat and the ebb and swell of your breathing. Your pubic hair tickles my belly like tiny sparks of electricity.
I begin to explore you. First, the surface, your skin, grazing you gently with the tip of a finger. I reach down and circle the hollow at the back of your knee, drag my finger lightly up the back of your thigh. Your skin is warm and smooth, and you quiver and inhale sharply. I slide my fingertip down to your knee again, this time barely touching your skin. I tickle the hollow behind your other knee and move my fingertip along a zig zag path up and across the back of your leg until I find the meeting point of your thigh and buttock.
You are motionless, drinking in the sensation of the lightest touch on your skin. I begin to trace the arc of your buttocks, stroking the surface of each one, moving closer to the crease that separates them. I touch you softly and without urgency.
My finger wanders back down to find where the crease begins between your thighs. I follow the crease upwards between your buttocks, still only touching the surface of your skin, until I reach the top. I open my hand and begin to rub my palm over your buttocks, feather light so that you can feel the smoothness of my skin against yours.
Your hands have begun to mirror mine, touching and stroking. My skin feels like a million fireflies are inside me, flashing and fluttering to get out, and you direct their frenzy with the movement of your hand. You burn and soothe me at the same time.
My fingers move up your back, exploring your contours: your ribs, your shoulders, the nape of your neck. I slide my fingers into your hair, wrapping it around them. Your lips are waiting, sweetness yet to be touched and tasted. I brush my lips across your forehead, then kiss your eyes. I rub my cheeks against yours, first on one side and then the other.
I cradle your head between my hands and see you seeing me as I move forward to touch your lips with mine. We can see our pleasure reflected in each other’s eyes as we kiss softly, then part. I kiss you again, then nibble your lips ever so gently. Your lips are soft, warm and full. I lick your lips, and they open to invite me inside. Our tongues meet and withdraw, meet and withdraw.
As we kiss, I touch my fingertip to your throat and trail it down and along the line of your collarbone, down the outside of your arm and back up the inside to the plushness where your upper arm merges with your breast. My finger goes back to the hollow at the base of your throat, and I slide it quickly and lightly down between your breasts, over your belly to the edge of your pubic hair.
Your tongue plunges deep into my mouth, and I suckle it and don’t want to give it up. When you withdraw, my tongue follows, and your warm wet mouth encloses it as you stroke it with your tongue. I feel my pleasure growing and bubbling out in soft moans. I begin to circle your breast, my finger moving in loops that grow smaller with each completed circuit, until I meet the tiny bumps of the aureole around your nipple. Now I reach the inner circle between aureole and nipple, criss crossed with tiny crevices. You quiver when I run my fingertip up and over your nipple.
I play with your nipple, tickling it and teasing it, marveling at how hard it is, wanting to cover it with my mouth and kiss and bite and suck it. My hand cups your breast and squeezes it, then I rub my palm over it, just touching its rounded tip. You put your hand over mine and press it hard against your breast, holding it there. The only movement now is our breathing. I bend to kiss your neck and move down to your breast.
My tongue leaves a warm, moist trail on your skin. I kiss your breast, kiss your nipple. And then, oh yes, I take your nipple in my mouth and suck it gently. Your nipple grows huge in my mouth, loving the loving it’s getting. I kiss and suckle your breasts, moving from one to the other, while my hand moves over your belly and brushes across your pubic hair, back and forth, up and down, just skimming the tops of the curls. I find the soft warmth where your thigh ends and your mound begins to rise. This is the softest place on earth, the inside of a woman’s thigh.
Your body shudders each time my hand gets nearer your vagina. I can feel your excitement growing, because you want me to touch you, slide my fingers through your wetness, find your clitoris. You reach down and open your labia for me. I move my finger through the folds and creases of your velvety wet labia to tantalize you. You moan loudly when my finger touches your clitoris and moves away again. Your clitoris is erect and ready, but I pass over it, gently grazing it, once, twice, three times more. You push your hips up and grasp my wrist, telling me that you want your pleasure now.
I begin rubbing your clitoris, moving its hood up and down, sliding my finger along its sides. I circle your clitoris, rubbing it harder now. Your hips move as you lift your clitoris up to increase the pressure. I make a V with my fingers and squeeze your clitoris. I pull your clitoris outwards very gently, then release it, pull outwards again and release again. I go back to rubbing it, around and around. I can feel by the insistence and pace of your movements that your orgasm is near. We move together in perfect synchronicity as your climax builds.
Now. You close your legs around my hand and take charge of your pleasure. My hand is immobile in your grasp, as you rub your clitoris against my fingers in sharp hard thrusts. You arch your back and throw your head back, groaning loudly as you climax.
You relax, and I begin to move my fingers away. My hand is bathed in your juice. We are both awash in your orgasm. I cuddle against you, front to front as we began. After all our motion, we are still and silent now. There is no need to speak. Nothing could improve this moment.
The curtains are still. The night is windless now. The rain has stopped, and the only sound that breaks the silence is the occasional patter as water drips from the trees and falls to the ground.
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