PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

Contented Bliss

Friday, Aug. 23, 2002
if you don't want to read about making love...real and hot and void of judgement...go away

Contented Bliss

The lights in the apartment are out. A few lit candles are scattered along the narrow stretch of hallway that runs down through the center of the hallways. A light spring rain plays its fingertip tune across the tin roof. I walk barefoot down the dimly lit hall. My eyesight adjusts to the barely lit bedroom.

And there you are in all your little boy innocence, lying still, asleep. Your naked form sprawled across the white cotton sheets. Raindrops stream down the windowpanes. The streetlight shines through so that it appears that the droplets are actually sliding down your back. I stand in complete silence watching the most beautiful of movement free scenes. The air humid against your breaths hushing so shallow that your chest barely sighs against the room.

I slide my clothing slowly and silently off and allow it to slide to the floor. Feeling an immediate need to be close to you, but this is a scene I want to remember. A time and place I want to recall many days into the future. I slide my naked form down into the plush chair reserved for reading during sunny hours.

My skin aches for the touch of your hungry eyes. I close my eyes for the briefest second, one tear of gratefulness slides slowly down my smiling face. To feel this ache, to know this moment, is a gift, one that I hardly feel I deserve to take.

A silver pen catches the glint of the moon in the dark. I quietly tiptoe across the room naked to pick it up. I return to the chair, my eyes never leaving your naked form. The only word that comes to me to record this scene is ‘bliss’. And then the phrase arrives, ’”contented bliss”’. In the absence of any desire to ever leave this room again I slowly slide the tip of the pen along the line of my thigh, watching you always watching you from the corner of my eye. The cold metal causes a shooting star streak of electric chills through my body. The tip moves words slowing onto my body. The tip tattoos the words slowing onto my flesh. In the melody of the rain, and the sigh of your breath, I trace and retrace contented bliss, contented bliss…contented bliss. The thunder rumbles in the distant sky, the lightening is an eyewink lighting up the night.

The rain outside gains a new fervor, as a new rumble of thunder cracks through the sky with the wet lick of nature’s lips. You begin to stir on the bed. Your hand slides across the cold bed looking for… Your eyes open into the dark night. The lightening is nearly the only illumination in the room and then a gentler glow from the hallway candlelight. Your search finds me, hips ajar. When my head lifts slightly my eyes meet your gaze. I drop my pen with a slight clunk against the hardwood floor. My naked form feeling the sudden touches, the immediate roaming of your face, your sleepy eyes crinkle into half a grin. I freeze at the sweet implications of being caught in my moment of bliss.

With slow limbering movements you walk towards me and with quiet hands you pick up my pen, lean towards me holding the sleek smooth writing instrument out to me. My hand covers yours in an effort to regain the pen from your hand. You change your mind swift yet gentle. In the dark your voice is barely audible when you tell me, “No Princess, its not like that”. You guide my hands to my sides, lean into me for one lick of your tongue along my quivering lower lip. I want to kiss you back but your fingertips show up across my mouth. Your command for silence is said without words, yet completely understood. In one gesture I am reminded that you are a man.

In your slow hand the edge of the pen finds the hollow of my neck. Your eyes on my face staring right through me as the pen runs down the length of my body writing new waves of passion. Penning unspoken thoughts along the rise and fall of my bare breasts, across the landscape of my stomach, down the length of my inner arms, midway down my left thigh, you stop. You arrive.

And then your fingers have reached the pathway to my body’s core. Your other hand finds my neck in perfect unison to your gentle arrival knocking on my door. Your lips on mine, your teeth scraping my wet mouth, and then quick the nub of the pen going in, slick, deep. My surprise gasp for air meets the sexy eyes of the man I adore. I whisper “ love is a story we can write all night” as the rain hits the window pain violently there is a wet rush.

As quickly at the onslaught of cold metal arrived it is gone. I contain myself long enough to again seek your gaze and I’m greeted by the vision of your tongue slowly licking the shiny length of the pen. Moved by your openness, I grab the pen and throw it along the floor. I hear it slide against the wall. I pull your face towards mine and lick my name along your inky tongue.

My hands wet with my own wetness roam across your body leaving trails that dry slowly against the air. My mouth hard against your mouth already wet, the evidenced knowledge that you will lick my flesh anywhere fills me with a need bigger than this small hot room. I pull you towards the bed down on top of my body. My legs snake around your body, I grind my heat against your stomach. Pushing against you I become begging, please. And then as quick as my need seems to come first, I gently push you off and away from me. I crawl naked, wet, across the floor away from you on my hands and knees searching frantically, looking all over for something on the floor. You reach for me and just as I grasp a hold of the pen you pull me back towards you. Your arm around my waist pulls me into your hard thighs and we are one as I moan deep from my throat against the cold hard floor, the pen in the tips of my fingers. Quickly I feel your strong hands sliding around my body teasing the very source of pleasure. My own hands reaching between my sweaty hot thighs to touch the intersection where my flesh meets your flesh. Where your body crashes into mine. To touch with my own hands the depth of our connection, concretes every thought that you and I are one soul, one thought, one mind. My fingers intertwine against your body’s thrust, your fingers run the length of my fingers you are pleased by my need to always touch.

You chant my name under your breath against the edge of my ear, holding me tightly against your body grinding slow, deep then fast, shallow then barely a movement beyond the blood beating through our bodies entwined. Movements slow, fast, deep then shallow again. Never finding the perfect rhythm by design, holding back the gift of sweet release, you refuse to so quickly let it be mine. You lean forward to kiss my back, your hands sliding around my body to grip flesh, fondling my body one inch at a time. You lick my back without motion, and then grind deep taking my breath away when you bite the sweat soaked hard flesh along my spine. Your hand on my mouth, I taste myself on your fingers as they slide across my tongue. When I begin to grip the wet sheets, my knuckles turn white and you release your grip, leaving my body empty, hungry, hollow pleading, full of want.

I’m not angered but instead I am challenged to make you ache this way. My fingers grip the pen. My wet hand grips the base of your throbbing penis. As I bend over to slide my mouth down over the length of your hard tool, my pen slides simultaneously slides its cold way inside of you. Being entered as you enter my mouth. I tease with the smooth rounded end of the pen cap. In then out, covered with the spit of my entirely wet kisses. Then in circular motions I lick the hottest deepest crevices of your body. Sliding my drenched hand along the length of your hardness. My mouth dances back and forth and never stays long enough for you to gain any momentum beyond tortured bliss.

All I want is to make you my own if only in the now I want to possess every inch of your body with mine. To hear your animal groan, I want to hear your pleading, see your hips thrust against my mouth. And then your thigh muscles clench beneath my breasts as I worship your body, inside and outside with my wet mouth, my wet tongue, my teasing fingers. My hands engulf you as I dry hump the cool empty air with my hips thrusting their uncontrollable need.

Your fingers meet my wetness and I hold back the scream from my throat as I swallow your spewing ink that comes along with the gentle release of the pen. I swallow every drop of your ink and then lick my name across the pulsing length of your penis still in then out of my mouth gently. I lift the pen in the light of the lightening and lick the length of the shiny instrument as I stare wicked directly into your eyes, then lick the length of every place that is entirely you wanting to leave no doubt that I am not afraid to love you with everything that I am. With contented bliss I want to love you complete, as completely as two people can ever meet.

i love you "right front" t.
9:24 p.m. ::
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