The exquiste journey: part 1

[aaardvarky]

He calls you. I sense that you have been awaiting his call, just as I wait for your emails, with a sense of anticipation and a frisson of excitement. I notice that you rush to the phone and are breathless. I hear your voice as calm, but that is not what I see. You are excited and sit on the edge of your bed. I hear you laughing and feel you smiling inside. Were I there with you, this is one of the moments when I would have pushed you backwards as you held the phone, I would have slid your skirt above your thighs and slowly entered you as you spoke. And so I do. I feel your initial, irritated resistance as you want to savor the conversation and add a delicious privacy to it, but I feel you relax under my touch, being captured by feelings and simultaneously wanting penetration. As you take me and talk to him I know that I am sharing you. You do not disclose my virtual presence or effect and whilst you take my pleasure, you guard something special for him. I am feeling multi layers of excitement within you. There is your excitement at being entered at this moment and sensing me pushing into you and making love to you; there is your excitement at his call and your sense of anticipation at what he can deliver to you; I feel your awareness of the effect your conversation with him is having on me, and the excitement within you that this induces; and I sense your excitement as you allow yourself to drift between us both, separating, fusing and separating your feelings, playing with them and playing with us. At any given time I am unable to tell whether you are giving yourself to me or giving yourself to him and being taken by him. I cannot hear his words, but know they are suggestive and have an intimacy in them. The combination of touch, feeling and his words is too great for you. You sense that you will climax. You press back against me to secure a deep penetration. You ask him a question so that you can silently listen to his response. I see you bite your lip to stifle sound. I see your back arch and feel your free arm stiffen. We both know that you are to come, and you do. I hear you laugh and see you smile, you lick your lips and look penetratingly at me with a look of satisfaction and approval. It says "How clever you are to have done that. You should be as pleased with yourself as I am with you". You give me a little silent hug and then re-focus on your conversation. You wave me away to secure some privacy and mouth the words, "I will finish you off in a moment", as you return your focus to the call.

Afterwards you come to me and tell me how delicious the moment was. You tell me that I astutely met your needs of wanting me and hearing him. You tell me that I now deserve my reward and you take me by the hand to your bed. You push me back and sit astride me. I feel your hand feeding me into you again. This time you are possessing me; I feel your appreciation and I receive your reward. As I climax I sense that you climax too, this time more gentle and loving. It is a 'there, there' moment which says "I do love you, never doubt it" and in which you tell me that I am your special lover.

We lie back together. I notice with fascination that we are side by side, just as you had described the moment after you first imagined making love to him. I do not delight you with as he did, I simply run my fingers over your body, over your stomach and down between your legs. I feel the wetness that I left there, mixed with your wetness at your excitement of being taken and then taking. We talk and I ask you about how you felt when I invaded your call. You tell me of your initial irritation, then the feeling of succumbing to pleasure, and of your traversing fantasy. You tell me how much it has made you want him. I ask you, and you tell me that you have arranged to meet. You tell me that this is what you want. You ask me if I mind. I say that I can understand his longing and that if this is what you want, you need to do it. You look at me searchingly to see my hidden reaction and feelings. I sense you satisfy yourself, feeling my reluctance and sensing my excitement. This is enough to give you the permission you seek.

We rise, you shower and you return to your bedroom where I lay propped against pillows. You ask me what you should wear. There is now a teasing note in your voice and I sense you are playing with me. I am like a violin string that you pluck, listening to the sound and then tweaking the tuning to a tighter, sharper tone. I sense you relishing the sound and enjoying your capacity to make it ring so resonantly. The fashion parade which you have performed for me in the past, you now perform with a frisson which speaks of denial. I have had my turn, and now I am to share your energy. Whilst you speak not of intended intimacy with him, I feel that this is a part of your intention, hence the importance of involving me in your preparation. The short skirt is dropped on the floor and replaced by the one you wore to dance with him. This is a dress I know. I watch the way that it moves with your body and feeling the way it reflects your feelings as you dance. It is sensual, it is sexual, it is concealing, it is soft and suggestive of possibility. I know the feelings of joy it can induce. I sense the inevitability of the brush of your hand against the nape of his neck as you are to dance with him, and the swirl of fabric against his thigh. I also know what your next question is to be before you ask it. In an unconvincing way I say that they will be cooler as you dance. You know my real feeling and meaning as you lift your dress to fasten the suspender belt I bought you. As the fabric drops, so the evidence is concealed, but we both know. It is our secret for the moment. It is our contract. And I know, that in a few hours, when the lights are low and a soft music plays, his hand will inadvertently catch across a strap and he too will know the intention.

As if it is my mind, I know that his too will race. It is like an unspoken offer of a possibility. It feels like part of the generous gift that you intended for him. He feel that secrets await and that they are unspokenly prepared for his delight. You look at his face at that moment and see his flush, and you feel a sexual power at your success. You continue to dance, at first as if nothing has happened, but as he turns you against him you will feel the difference and he will know that his secret too is out. As he releases you, you slide your hand down between you and with the tips of your finger, invisible in the shadow and proximity of your bodies, will seek him out. I feel your touch, gently and then the little squeeze that is intended for me. It says to me, "this is what you wanted isn't it?....it is what I too want to give to you and to him".

You continue to dance. Now you do not leave the floor and you are not available to other dancers. I feel the flow of your connection with me through what you are giving to him. I sense the moment when as you dance you run your fingers through his hair. You are saying, "This too is for you....".

The evening has ended. I waited and then slept. I wake, not with a start, but with a sense of your presence. I turn to see you in your room. You are smiling and happy. You start to undress, not hurriedly, but as if you do not want the evening to end. I see you slide off your stockings, rolling them and pulling. I see your hands at the zip of your dress and feel the downward pull. It slips from your shoulders to the floor where it is left. You approach me, now with your breasts free and you give them to me. I feel your body across mine and feel you melt into me. We make love. I was not aware of the moment of penetration as it simply happened as part of love. I feel you snuggle me into you and I feel your wetness. We do not speak about time or events, we simply feel what we feel and take joy in the reconnection that we crave and desire. I do not know about the intervening hours. Did your fingers touch, discharging the energy that I know exists? Did moments of tenderness extend and suffuse with a loving caring? Did they grow in intensity into excitement, undressing and touching? Did you feel the need to take him, for yourself or to reassure him? Is the silky wetness I feel from you or what you received from him? I do not ask, and you do not say. This is to remain unsaid, and simply felt. I know that you are melting in my arms and I feel the hotness of your breath on my neck. This is our connection now to the exclusion of all others. And so I enjoy it feeling its genesis in the afternoon and its growth throughout the night.

[bewareoflizzy]

Excellent!