Dreamriding
Disclaimer: ok, it's been a while, but most of you know the drill. This is a bit of creative writing - feel free to skip it if mild erotica is not your thing. Lord knows, it's my thing...
Curled warm in my bed, I ride my dreams, flying through improbably erotic scenes until it settles into a plump feather mattress in a rough tester bed. A squat wax candle scented with juniper and bay burns low on a battered table, just out of arm's reach. Quilts lay heavy on my body, keeping me comfortably still. A pleasant torpor fills my senses until I hear the heavy bootsteps echoing up the stone stairs.
The heavy door scrapes open, and the mattress shifts as my bien aime sits next to me and rests his hand on my hip. Even through the sturdy blankets, I feel the warmth of it, feverishly so. My lips curve as his mouth descends. As always, I am lost at the touch of his lips on mine. Unable to parse a coherent thought, I moan wordlessly, the sensation overloading my mind. My hands claw at the blankets separating us, my legs thrash to be free. His hands stroke me softly, his legs capture mine. His touch gentles me and calms my frenzied state.
Freeing me deftly from the bedclothes, he pulls me quickly onto his lap, so I sit facing him. My prim flannel nightgown rides up high, and I feel the rough homespun cloth of his breeches against my bare legs and bottom. Murmuring softly to me, my bien aime slides his hands under my nightgown, pausing to fondle and knead my posterior. My head falls back and I offer him my throat. Sliding one arm around my waist, he holds me in place with his other hand on my throat as his lips roam, finding the sensitive juncture of my neck and shoulder. My whimpers and moans spur him on as he descends, his lips blazing a trail through my decolletage. Swiftly unbuttoning my nightgown and spreading it wide, he lowers his head to my breasts. Motion suspended, almost unable to breathe as the tingling evoked by his tongue suffuses my consciousness, I am only able to expel a hissing breath. All sensation is centered there, as I arch back to offer him better access...
The dream slips away as my slumber claims me, yearning and unfulfilled, leaving me with the scent of bay and juniper washing over me.
Curled warm in my bed, I ride my dreams, flying through improbably erotic scenes until it settles into a plump feather mattress in a rough tester bed. A squat wax candle scented with juniper and bay burns low on a battered table, just out of arm's reach. Quilts lay heavy on my body, keeping me comfortably still. A pleasant torpor fills my senses until I hear the heavy bootsteps echoing up the stone stairs.
The heavy door scrapes open, and the mattress shifts as my bien aime sits next to me and rests his hand on my hip. Even through the sturdy blankets, I feel the warmth of it, feverishly so. My lips curve as his mouth descends. As always, I am lost at the touch of his lips on mine. Unable to parse a coherent thought, I moan wordlessly, the sensation overloading my mind. My hands claw at the blankets separating us, my legs thrash to be free. His hands stroke me softly, his legs capture mine. His touch gentles me and calms my frenzied state.
Freeing me deftly from the bedclothes, he pulls me quickly onto his lap, so I sit facing him. My prim flannel nightgown rides up high, and I feel the rough homespun cloth of his breeches against my bare legs and bottom. Murmuring softly to me, my bien aime slides his hands under my nightgown, pausing to fondle and knead my posterior. My head falls back and I offer him my throat. Sliding one arm around my waist, he holds me in place with his other hand on my throat as his lips roam, finding the sensitive juncture of my neck and shoulder. My whimpers and moans spur him on as he descends, his lips blazing a trail through my decolletage. Swiftly unbuttoning my nightgown and spreading it wide, he lowers his head to my breasts. Motion suspended, almost unable to breathe as the tingling evoked by his tongue suffuses my consciousness, I am only able to expel a hissing breath. All sensation is centered there, as I arch back to offer him better access...
The dream slips away as my slumber claims me, yearning and unfulfilled, leaving me with the scent of bay and juniper washing over me.
Labels: amour
posted by Peevish McSnark at
9:53 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home