Dreaming of Midnight Encounters

I can still feel him. His roughed hands passing along the lines of my neck, arching my head back demanding without words entrance to the warm, wet depths of my mouth. The ridges of his finger coarse in contrast to the slippery smoothness of my flicking tongue. I hear his moan soft and low in his throat, a small answering twitch of his trapped finger between my teeth. I can feel my desire beginning to pool between the meeting of my thighs. His hands so big, so rough, his mouth demanding, punishing so different then the soft sweet summer kisses of women. His long arms wrap around my waist, not a question but an urgency pressed between us. Every fiber of my being is alight, the tips of my breast reaching out and pressing hard against the soft lace of my bra. Biting along my collarbones following the small bones to the curve of my shoulder, his beard tracing a red path across the smooth pale expanse if my flesh. Small shutters and sighs escape between my lips. He leads me lower, deeper into myself, my eyes closed, lost to the feeling of his expert mouth and pinching and grabbing of his hands trapping my wrists, my hips, my neck. He is everywhere and I am slowly drifting into oblivion. The soft pillowy folds of the bed meet our weight with a sigh. His hands hastily work the mechanics of his belt to free his trapped, aching desire. My hips meet him, begging to be answered. It’s a moment of complex bliss and mingled pain. His full thrust into my body rocking me. My arms locked around his neck he moves within me, sending waves of ancient calls into my yielding form. I can feel my skin hot beneath the crushing weight. My back arches to presses against him, low grunts and moans falling from the crevices of  our entwined mouths. I can feel his rising tide building within me, stirring my belly, my womb, clouding my mind, sending me deeper. His legs lock and tense as he reaches the crest, a long deep rumbled escapes his throat as the lean muscles of his belly shudder. Hot, wet, sticky. He fills me.  In that moment I know what primal bliss is. My answering body quaking and pulling him deeper into me. His hands pinning my wrists. Sweat drips slowly down his neck to roll and rests upon the hollow  of my throat, exposing the two time quarter beating of my pulse. All is slow, languishing and relishing this paused moment. He leaves at exactly 535am. In a dreamers high I fall contentedly into a deep dreamless sleep knowing I am wanted.

Nena