As I lay there with my brain absorbing the passion of her body heat and the intoxicating smell of her hair, she remained half asleep. The desire that her body heat was communicating struggled to emerge from the dim recesses of her consciousness. My naked body lying next to her was very warm, almost hot. I am the man that she loves passionately and the heat that I am giving her as I lay nude close to her suppresses the desire that is struggling to emerge in her brain; my heat forces her to fade into a blissful sleep. Regardless of how much she tried she could not escape the narcotic grip that sleep held her in. She struggled to waken but could not come out from the under the layers of dreams and covers that enveloped her. However in the midst of her struggle her desire tried to gain purchase of any thing physical that could help it pull her back to consciousness. In those few minutes of struggle her hand groped for anything and found my hard cock, she grasped it. I woke with a start, but remained still. Her hand wrapped around the crown of my penis as she sank back to sleep. As she slipped away into the mist of dreams and quiet rest, the warmth of her hand expressed the wetness of my own desire into her palm. I oozed precum into her almost sleeping palm Her hand relaxed as she sighed and breathed deeply and evenly, giving into the sleep.
She loves me deeply, I know that now and I have always known it. She is mine and the joy that I feel with her is in the appreciation of her complex sensual and sexual responses to me Like all things about her, her sense of my body warmth is a fickle thing. Sometimes the heat of my body will drive her crazy with lust . . . boring into her brain with raw ferocity and red hot desperation. A desperation that screams in the shrill voice of need . . . penetrate me, come deep inside of me and share in my secrets. I need to hold your maleness so close to me that you are part of me. In those times she is desperate to feel my passion for her deep inside her body. She needs to feel the hardened extension of me probing the wet recesses of her delicate feminine intimate space. I have been hardened, tempered by her. Her passion has heated my penis and forged it to iron like hardness. It is not filled with blood and muscle it is filled with her passion for me. She has put it there. When my heat raises these feelings in her, my cock is hers and she needs it.
Laying there next to her in a moment like this I am frantically hard. I ache to slide deep into her vagina; to slide so deep that I can feel her heart beating; so deep that I can feel her pussy pulsing in synchrony to the throbbing of my cock. I desire to be so deep inside of her that the engorged, wet tip of my penis is touching her very soul.
Yet at other times as we lay naked under the covers sharing the semi conscious feel of each others heat, the security of my presence will lull her into the blissful peace of sleep. Her trust of me is so total that she will remove all bodily covering, and expose her bare ody and more importantly her bare soul and her spirit to me. With no clothing and with a totally open spirit she will lay next to me, exposing her feminine vulnerability to me and she will trust me with it. As she falls asleep naked in embrace she ultimately sheds everything beyond her clothing, she sheds pretense and she trusts me to cherish her, care for her and protect her. Laying in my arms she lays there physically and spiritually naked yet she feels the power of my embrace and she feels safe. My love for her can be narcotic. She sleeps.
I am awake though and I cannot sleep. Her warmth, her prescience has stirred my passion and my soul. I love her and I long to express it with my arms, my lips but especially with my hardened penis; but I want her to rest so I give her the gift of sleep. I lower my legs out of bed and touch the floor. Standing I reach for my robe in the dark and put it on noiselessly. I bend over her in the dark, unable to see her but I can sense her. I can feel her persistent heat of passion, it is there in the dark blazing invisibly like a beacon. I can smell her, I feel for her with my warm lips and then I feel the softness of her forehead on my lips. I kiss her softly and inhale her, in exchange for her smell that wraps around my brain like a comforting baby blanket, I give her my lips in return. The warmth of my love spreads over her like a clear blue wave on a white sandy beach in a tropical sea. She is not conscious, but I feel the wave stirring her wherever she is …she sighs and settles into the bed that still retains the imprint of my warmth. She slides her head onto my pillow seeking the memory of my head from the pillow and taking it from the pillow to be her own…she always does this when I get up. I think to myself ….good morning sweetness.
I go downstairs and flop in the easy chair in the office. I roll my laptop cart towards me and I start to think about what I will write. But before I begin to delve into my thoughts and organize them I decide to log onto to SF. When the page with the blue banner flashes on I look for the familiar names that I have come to know in the short time I have been a member of this world wide extended family. I am reassured when I see several I know.
We all greet each other for the New Year as this is the first day of 2010. We talk about my blog post of the previous day and my focus on the gentle side of passion and the sensuality of the female form in all its complex function. As we talk my mind drifts off to my love asleep upstairs. She is not before me, it is dark and quiet in the house but I know her body so well that I can sit here and imagine it curve by curve and hair by hair.
I often do this when I am traveling; I will lay alone in a big hotel room in some city far from home. I will lay there naked in the downy bed my penis throbbing with longing for her and I will envision her naked form. I will paint a picture in my mind of the delicate folds of her sex as they recede into her hot pink vagina. I wonder as I lay there is she dreaming of me …is she dreaming of the fullness that she would feel as my penis persists at the opening of her vagina and forces it open as it penetrates her, slowly entering that most secret of her places. In her dream is she desperate to have me sink my heat into her so she can relish my the hardness of my passion or does she want to have her tease her and play her with my cock. As I lay there on my back, precum will drool out of me and puddle on my belly.
The snowplow crashes its blade on the pavement outside the office window, startling me out of my reverie. I look at the computer screen and I see the names again and think of our chat and the gentle side of passion . . . . that is what I begin to write about.
Three hours later I am lost in my thoughts and far into this entry and I hear the creaking of the stairs. This time worn two hundred year old house is a gossip. It always wants to be the first to know something and distinguish itself. It is always trying to be more than it is …just like me. This house and I understand each other. It started out as a hat factory in the early 1800’s and was converted to a home a hundred years ago. Now it is our home and it understand us and we it. It is my friend and it tells me everything. It tells who is in what room with the voice of its creaking floors, it’s stairs whisper to me in the snap of wood pulling on nail that someone smells the coffee I made earlier and is attracted to some down to it. It is she; I think that her desire has won out over the sleep. My warmth was gone and she now comes looking for it, or maybe it’s just the coffee.
She pads across the living room and peers into the office from behind the Christmas tree and says hi. I put down the computer and go to give her a hug. She is in her English Flannel nightgown, the one that comes out every winter like an old friend. I hug them both. She leans into me and kisses my chin. She has always kissed me there …she can reach it with her head tilted up and standing on the balls of her feet. No one but her has ever kissed me there, it is her spot. It is not an erotic spot, but it sends fire up my thighs to my balls nonetheless when I feel her lips there on the square cleft of my chin. The cum in my balls starts to boil. If she continues the kiss the cum will boil to steam like a teakettle and my brain will whistle and scream in response.
The kiss ends and we stand there hanging on to each other as we have many times in joy, sorrow and worry. It is reassuring. Yet underneath the calm security of the hug I think of her vagina and the passion that was stirring there earlier as we lay in bed. I wonder if that passion has caused her femininity to weep the moisture of her lust for me. I wonder if those lips. . . . her vaginal lips are wet with her dew. Then I thought of those sensitive folds and the sight of them with her legs parted as they revealed the heads of all our children as they entered this world. Those lips that I have kissed and suckled and licked so many times as I stirred the desire in her clit so that I could share the joy of her orgasm with her …mouth to pussy.
We parted after the hug and she looked at me with those beautiful gray blue eyes; those eyes were speaking volumes, they gave me “the look”. I tried to describe “the look” in the chat room later in the day what the look was, but I couldn’t. It can only be described as “come fuck me now” eyes. I can read them clearly and that is what I saw that moment. My heart raced and I knew that her vagina was probably gapping open at this moment dampening her panties for me. It was going to be a passionate morning.
I abandoned the computer and we went into the kitchen for coffee and left over apple pie from New Years Eve dinner. Mornings are my favorite time as we sit over coffee and talk. It is this time that I think how passionate I am for her …but not just for her sex but for her mind. And we sit there and talk and I see her hands wrapped around the coffee cup and I think of her wonderful hands. Hands that paint pictures, that write letters (she still does), hands that have wrapped themselves lovingly around my erect cock to deftly coax cum from it. I think about that steaming cum as it erupts from the slit in my penis and rolls over the tip of my cock that is peering out above her thumb. I think of that cum drooling onto that beautiful hand and I think of her feeling my warm cum. It is hot on her hand from the love that created it deep inside me. I am stirred I my reverie as that image causes my penis to stiffen. I look at her and she is staring at me and smiling that subtle smile. I know what that means. We leave the dishes and go upstairs hand in hand.
In the bedroom we both shuck our clothes as if they were cornhusks peeling off an ear of corn, to reveal the sweetness inside. I looked at her body, the body I love. It was not the perfect body it once was, nor is mine …but damned she was hot and she was mine. The passion in my balls was starting to boil and I could feel the grip of lust hardening my penis. But then I thought of the chat room and the conversation on gentle sex. I reminded her of the times that we had such caring, slow and gentle sex during the pregnancy and my surgery and I suggested that we revisit that now. She smiled and didn’t answer but instead pulled my head to her warm lips and kissed me softly and deeply. Her hot lips said everything. It was one of those kisses that I remember from many times when we were younger. One of those kisses could make the cum in me boil over and flood my pants causing me huge embarrassment. She has incredible lips.
I laid back on the bed and she wordlessly took my semi flaccid penis in her warm mouth. The heat of her wet tongue on the sensitive underside of my cock head stirred it to life. She loves filling her mouth with my flaccid penis and feeling it grow and length and girth until she can only hold the end in her wide open mouth.
As soon as I was hard she straddled my hips and lowered herself onto me. The old familiar but ever new and wonderful feeling of piercing her sex with my erect penis sent shivers up my spine. She ever so slowly pushed me into her as I lay there on my back. Her vagina was slippery wet and hot. As I lay there looking at her, she looked at me and our eyes locked.
We try to have eye open sex if we can but it is hard, not out of modesty but out of passion. In the raw heat of the moment closing your eyes is a reflex. But with sensually slow gentle fucking open eye sex is amazing. As she kneeled above me with my penis buried deep inside her vagina she looked me in the eyes. Her eyes are sex objects to me. They stir my soul . I could not think of her vagina, her clit or her tits, all I could see and think about were those eyes. They were cool and enigmatic as she slowly squeezed my penis with her vagina and pulled up sliding it out of her. When the tip was just outside of her vaginal opening she lowered herself onto it so that the head of my cock rubbed on the opening of her vagina sending shock waves to my prostate. I could feel my prostate swell and suck the thick hot cum from my balls in the process. She then lowered herself onto me ever so slowly again to make sure that I could feel the tip of my penis rubbing on the slick interior walls of her vagina. Her eyes watched mine carefully to see the impact that she was having on me.
I looked deep into her eyes as she did this over and over again. They maintained their steely mysterious dominance over me. Her eyes communicated control of me and control of my penis. But it was gentle and sensual control. A control that was intended to bring me incredible joy.
She continued to ride me and we kept our gaze locked. I don’t know what she saw in my eyes or what or when it changed if it did; but I saw change in her eyes. After about 20 minutes of this slow rhythmic riding motion on my cock I was heating her passion. I could feel it on my groin before I saw it in her eyes …each downward stroke of her pussy on my cock was oozing her wetness into a puddle on my groin it was running down my balls and puddling on the bed underneath me.
When I felt the cold wetness underneath me I saw the change in her eyes. They wee no longer cool and enigmatic, they were looking as though they were desperately seeking something and didn’t know where to find it. It was not panic but it was close to panic. I recognized the look as the expression of the urgency of pending orgasm. Without a word I reached up to her and pulled her down to me, pressing her breasts to my chest. Her legs now were extended outside of mine with her full weight bearing down on my chest and pubic bone. I then began to slowly thrust my hips up pushing into her aching pussy. I held her face gently in my hands and kissed her with all the love and lust that I felt in my heart. I know her and I know that a passionate kiss at this moment both pushes her over the top into ecstatic spasms and it intensifies her orgasm by forcing her vagina to clench my penis in orgasmic contraction.
As the orgasm thundered into her from me she groaned around my lips: “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” as the orgasm exploded in her pussy. The shock reverberated through her as her vagina contracted on my cock. Her evident passion, the kiss and the contraction around my inflamed penis, which her vagina was grasping and squeezing in rhythmic pulses caused me to empty into her in hard spurts that felt like they were ripping my penis open. We hugged each other in desperation as we each felt our own ecstasy and each other’s explode.
When it was over we lay there …she on top of me. My penis, now softening was till inside her. She began to get off and I held her tightly and said: “no just lay here”. She did, I lovingly stroked her head until she fell asleep again. It was the magic of my warmth again. I was at peace and in love and it was going to be a good day …no a good year.
May peace, erotic sensuality and gentle love surround you all year and for the rest of your life.
Happy New Year.
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