ErotiMama

haiku

your hands warm my breasts

you enter slowly hot hard

at full depth we kiss

Silk Sheets

I am looking at linens for my bed this time.  Images of you play in my head as I compare the fabrics. 

I am holding a set of maroon flannel sheets when the first shudder hits me.  A vivid image - one I cannot possibly have seen - recurs.  In it, you are on your knees entering me firmly from behind.  I feel the memory of your heat between my legs and my back arches reflexively as I clutch the package to my chest.  Another shopper brushes past me in the aisle, yanking me out of my reverie.  In a moment of embarrassment, I attempt to look as though I am comparison shopping and hurriedly select a different package.

I grab a pair of beige cotton sheets.  Unbidden, an image of you and I in the traditional missionary position shoots into my mind.  The absurdity of this strikes me funny, and as I hold back a giggle, I realize I have no idea what my bedroom ceiling looks like.

The fiery silk set I choose next lies still in my hand.  The slim package feels compact, firm and promising - but no pictures form in my head.  Disappointed, I begin to set the package down in favor of a more modest selection when I suddenly I feel the length of my body along the smooth silk.  The sensation is exquisite, causing my nipples to harden and press against my shirt.  I imagine stretching my arms lazily up, pausing near my breasts, my face, my hair, finally reaching straight over my head by my new headrail.  I watch your smile as you lean to bind my wrists.  When I am tied you remain close, teasing me with your hardness so near and so far.  My back tingles as I wriggle against the silk and I wriggle more because I like the feeling.  I am growing wetter by the moment while you pinch my nipples gently with your lips.  I arch to offer you more of my chest; I arch to try to relieve the tension building between my legs.  I want you inside me, want to ride you from beneath - wrapping my legs around your waist to lift myself off the bed - arching and releasing, want your mouth on my breasts while our hips swirl together until I can’t hold myself up any longer and when I collapse beneath you still writhing you release my hands from the rail and twist over to let me ride you from above, my motions pressing your body into the silk until we can bear the tension no longer and our bodies spasm ecstatically together in long, pulling waves.

One Button

One button is all I undo before I hear you suck in your breath. Glancing sideways I see your head has dropped forward and your eyes are closed – you’re poised – waiting. I trace one fingertip along your forearm, an inch and back, nothing more. Still, you swallow and rearrange your tongue as if you can’t find a good position for it while my pants are on. I add a second finger and move both purposefully as if I have some sort of goal; when I reach your wrist I roll up on the edges of my nails and drag them gently back toward your elbow. This started out as a casual bit of touching – the best I could hope for in a crowded airplane – but it’s turned into so much more. I’m not surprised when my own heart quickens – I’ve lately grown used to watching you for cues to my own mood. I love that you respond so completely to me. A look, a touch, a small sound, nothing escapes your notice and all bring you closer to me. Twisted torture as we try to maintain composure – your resolve diminishing with my activity on your arm; my resolve diminishing with yours. If we were alone, we’d be kissing at least – probing each other with licks and nips, pressing tongues. A vivid flash – I see me naked in your head and you shift in your seat…you see me, too.