Slow Burn

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Slow Burn

 

Slow Burn2

It is too hard to think of when my slow burn began, too hard to focus on fact while I lay next to you letting thoughts of you and me, secret thoughts of us, drift into and out of my consciousness.

Wrapped into your embrace, I am musing silently beneath the star filled sky. It is that amazing time in the early morning, far before the garish sun is near to claiming the night; where I can close my eyes and inhale you… breathe you in with all of my senses. It is that perfect hour where I can let myself walk the too-thin line between anxious thought and deep, dark emotion.

I lay there, lazily dreaming, lost somewhere between salacious desire and intense, raw-emotion, the place I never dare to approach in my waking world. But the breeze brushes over me gently and your fingers run slowly up and down my back, as I realized that you are lost in your own world of half-asleep thought.

I watch you, here in the darkness, conflicting features crossing your face, while you think you’re most personal thoughts, believing that you are safe in the night, unaware that I am taking in everything. Every crease around your beautiful eyes, soft smiles that come and go, the occasional frown that saddens your expression, and I realize that I have the desire to take all of your worries from you, but wonder if I have the ability.

I lay back on the blanket you brought for us and stretch languorously. Finding myself too close to my own fearful thoughts, a shiver runs down my spine, so I hold you a little more tightly to me, snuggle into you more closely, and close my eyes as I finally close the door on lingering fears; fears that you are fast-eclipsing here, in my heart.

It is the one place I dare not examine too closely, but then I remember that you have always been twenty-five kinds of patient with me. I smile to myself as I gingerly touch my lips to your cheek, dreamily picturing the day you asked me out, remembering how I stammered and stumbled nervously in all of my uncertainty;  knowing how long I have been wanting you but paralyzed in the breadth and depth of my residual pain.

I was overwhelmed by your confidence and larger than life personality then, and I picture your rugged handsomeness on that day.

“Have coffee with me,” you said as you approached me.

I scanned the spaces beside and behind me, wondering if you were actually addressing me. I stood rooted to one spot, rummaging through any number of replies that I might have choked out, but my still-wounded heart leapt into my throat so I just stood there, mute in your gaze.

“Never mind,” you stated firmly, “Make it adult beverages, girl. Seems like you could use it.”

I stammered something unintelligible which thankfully, you did not hear.

“Pick you up at eight,” you said, over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, but then quickly turned to flash a grin at me that crinkled your eyes, and I was hooked. I was completely and utterly taken, and then I knew… this is where my slow burn began.

Unaware that you have been watching me this night, I am completely unguarded in re-experiencing you, and this is where your lips meet mine, startling me out of that not-so-long-ago moment. I drag my errant thoughts back to the present, into the here and now of you, into the profoundly sexual kiss that is steadily heating up.

Slowly, you let me come to you, and I returned your passion two-fold as I let you part my lips. Your hand lightly cups the soft, warm globes beneath you as you graze my unexposed nipple with just one finger. You stroke me tentatively through the fabric of my blouse, and deepen the kiss gently, yet firmly demanding of me, not making any sudden moves but deliberately exploring me with maddening slowness.

You entwined your tongue with mine and press deeper, forcing my lips and mouth open to you. Knowing how much I want you, you let me know that you will determine how this goes.

You slow my actions with a gentle hand to my shoulder and will not give in to my urgency. Ever so slowly, you knead my taut breasts squeezing my nipples slightly as you undo my buttons, all without ever breaking our kiss.

Your hands are gently seeking, feeling, softly rubbing and stroking until you suddenly stand and pull me to my feet. With my body pressed full-length against you, locked in your muscular embrace, you loosen your grip slightly to remove the last of my clothing and yours.

Not letting go for a second, you stroke my long hair and move your hand to caress my cheek. You press your steel-hard need between my legs. Your cock is my scabbard, springing to life from its dark patch of hair.

I am aching for you to fill me, aching for you to make this slow burn blaze into unrestrained passion. But you lift me gently into your arms to gingerly lay me down upon the blanket and, in so-doing, lay waste to my inhibitions; the content of my wounded soul.

As you lay atop me with your firm, broad chest pinning me down, you crush me to you with your devilish eyes locked on mine, almost daring me to utter a word of protest, but I cannot.

Instead, I wrap my legs around you, trying to pull you closer still, finally let me melt into you. I give into the mêlée of riotous emotion that only you can make me feel. Your every touch is searing white-hot flames upon my skin, branding me your own.

l let you trail fire down the length of me, as you drag your fingertips down my stomach, past my abdomen to find the nexus of me and I cry out into the night at just the tips of your fingers touching me there.

Sizzling, electric-heat shocks me, leaping from synapse to synapse, culminating in the core of my womanhood while this slow burn threatens to consume me; to incinerate my very soul and I am suddenly assailed with terror.

I am unprepared to feel this deeply and intensely, ill-equipped to fall face-first and headlong into the all-consuming fire that constantly torments my waking and dreaming hours. I am writhing, squirming and pushing; fighting you, fighting me, and then begin begging you,

“Stop! Wait! Stop! Please! Please stop!”

But you do not let me go, will not let me run. Knowing that you are plenty strong enough to hold me down, you just hold me gently in your firm grip. Again, you pull me to you hard, letting me panic, writhe, and fight to push you away until my terror gives way to tears.

I am weeping in silence, tears streaking down my face, while you hold me tighter than you ever have, murmuring loving words into my ear, letting me retreat and die, to be reborn into your arms; the girl all but gone and a woman in her place.

Then finally, we both move, kissing frantically, wrapping ourselves around each other, rolling over and over again, both of us finding “our rhythm.” Then you push up from the ground to kneel between my thighs while lightly fondling my clitoris. You stroke me softly there with the full, firm length of you deep inside of me. You continue your sweet, sensuous torment until my breathing comes fast and ragged.

You begin a quicker rhythm, slamming into me hard and fast, as you stroke my most intimate secrets. I feel the slow burn become tumultuous as both of us push harder and faster. My hips meet yours, matching you, thrust for frenzied thrust, our crescendo building hotter, wilder, your fingers stroking my sensitized womanhood while you fill me with your steel-hard length, your unrelenting girth impaling me and letting my orgasm build.

Soft whimpers and longing moans escape me as I am twisting, thrusting, and aching to explode with you just as your deep, guttural growl fills the air, matching my soft scream that splits the stillness of this night. Finally, I let myself fall into our mutual fulmination, into flames that are borne of you and me. Our simultaneous orgasm rocks us through and through.

Then, at last, I am lost in you; in feeling your pulsing member sheathed within my hot wetness while I contract almost violently around you. I let our torrential lust and love consume me as you fall into my arms. I so love the culmination and completion that is you… and me… that is us… wholly and only us… and just the thought sets me back on a slow burn.

 

By Wildfire8470
© copyright 2013-05-09 15:06:06 UTC – All Rights Reserved© copyright 2014-01-20 07:09:46 - All Rights Reserved

Wham! Bam! Thank you Man!

Wham! Bam! Thank you Man!

 

 

Wham Bam Man

Sylvie and I sat in the bleachers watching our favorite football player. Tomorrow was the big game and the whole college was buzzing about Erik. He was the key player on our team, but neither of us cared. We were there to ogle his bulging, rippling muscles and laugh amongst ourselves.

Several others from our sorority joined with Laura leading the pack,

“I knew you two were keeping a secret hideout,” she glared at us and turned her gaze toward the players as they wandered from the field. Her search turned to Erik and she laughed,

“Sharsies!”

Just then, Erik passed our gang and tossed me a wink saying,

“Great workout. Were gonna kick their asses tomorrow. Like what ya see?”

All of us nodded and giggled inanely.

“Shana,” he said, singling me out, “I gotta hit the shower. Come with?”

His eyes were locked on mine and there was no amusement to be found.

“Uh, okay.” I croaked with my eyes bulging wide.

The girls rushed me like linebackers, screaming “He knows you?”

With a grin that nearly swallowed my face, I replied, “Guess so,” with a nonchalant shrug.

“Oh! Don’t play coy with me,” Laura howled, “You have been hiding out here for a reason, sister! You want his body!”

“And the feeling is mutual from what I can tell,” Melinda laughed softly.

“Melinda,” I cried, “This from sister shy mouse?”

She turned her eyes to the ground staring hard at her feet.

“Quick,” Linda hissed, “He’s leaving! You go and we’ll follow!”

“You will,” I asked incredulously.

“Hell yeah,” she replied staunchly, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Go!”

I turned on my heel and started toward the locker room as Erik risked a peek over his shoulder. Once inside, the girls scattered to hide, I presumed to listen in, when Sylvie shoved me into the shower room and disappeared.

Hearing my footsteps, Erik turned with a Cheshire cat grin asking, “Like what you see now?”

I stood frozen with my eyes locked on his naked body and fully erect manhood until he grabbed my hand and pulled me in. He kissed me dizzy and unbuttoned my blouse.

“Go out with me Friday,” he ordered more than requested.

With brevity I didn’t feel yet I looked into his steel-grey eyes and said,

“Well, I don’t know. I need a sample of what’s to come. Will the date be worth my time?”

His lips turned up in an evil grin. Without a word, he stripped my clothes off and we fucked in the shower. We were soaping each other playfully when my sorority sisters entered, naked as well.

“Laura headed the pack as always and whispered provocatively,

“Sharsies.”

She pounced on Erik and the rest followed suit. At that moment, I had a crucial choice to make. I thrust my hips against Erik’s hard thighs and devoured his lips saying,

“Let’s play.”

Erik adopted a confused grin that made me feel empowered, bold and brazen. Nothing had ever startled or shaken him before. He always seemed the epitome of control.

I grasped his shoulders in tandem with Sylvie pushing him to the floor. We all got a taste and then took everything he had to give. I admired his firm length in my grasp. A lesser man would have been fearful and flaccid at being attacked by so many girls at once. Erik didn’t flinch.

He bucked as we ground, his fingers snaked into my molten pussy while my lips moved to his stiff cock. I sucked, kissed and licked while even the shyest of my sisters touched, stroked and nipped until we all lay in a sodden, satisfied heap on the shower floor.

I lay in his arms smiling to myself and whispered, “Date? Really? Ya think you can handle it?”

Erik let go an uproarious laugh and nodded affirmatively. With that, we all borrowed his tiny towel, dried and dressed. As I turned away, I mouthed, “Call me!”

We left him there, still in an exhausted heap, as we returned to the locker room.

In a final, brazen moment of glee, I opened the shower room door and yelled,

“Wham bam! Thank you man!”

We filed out with my words echoing in the empty shower, mingling with with his laughter. It was a sound I enjoyed immensely.

By Wildfire8470

© copyright 2014-03-29 12:27:03 UTC – All Rights Reserved

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Impotence

Impotence

Forget

It galls me; the audacity of beings that populate this dying planet, the ugly filth of true colors, the stark, stone-absence of heart and soul, the ineptitude of judgment, the recklessness with which we approach and maintain ourselves and loved ones. “Beings;” the selfish, insidious, petrifaction; the cesspool embodiments of that with which we claim to ruminate, think, reason, care, love, live with, and within.

Human should be a four-letter word. “Human” depicts the lowest of the low; those who treat one another in the shabbiest of ways, while presuming and purporting themselves to be more evolved, actually better than, the animals they may be descendant from. “Human;” those who claim to care, to love, until it becomes inconvenient. Even animals care for their own. Social Darwinism is alive, well, and residing in all of us.

We cry loud and long at the injustice and pain of love lost; of callous treatment at the hands of another; another whom we loved enough to invest enormous amounts of ourselves into, another who now believes there is an infinite amount of love to be had, rendering us; our undying love and concern, nothing more than an obvious annoyance in the way; we who block the otherwise clear path to another’s “more.” “We,” the lost, cast from our Heaven’s by reason of having loved holding back nothing; we the injured, dying a million excruciating deaths, for having opened our hearts.

There may be copious amounts of love in the world. There are a few beings who may, or may not, bestow it upon you. Do not be so audacious as to believe that infinite amounts are waiting to be had. Chances are we, who are capable of it, chose a fickle heart as have other beings. Love was the object, the goal, yet we who love are cloaked in damage control.

We, who trash genuine love in the name of infinitely more may, in retrospect, realize we already had what we’re seeking and murdered it. “We” are murderers; “us” with the unclean hands, “beings” with fickle hearts and filthy souls, find no comfort in the impotent cry, “I’m only human!”

It loses all credibility in aftermath and retrospect.

By Wildfire8470

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