An evening ritual it has become over the years. That which I do to satisfy myself, bringing about peace at the end of day. Sleep will not come until 'tis done. Brushing hair and teeth, preparing for a lover. A lover who's hands know every crevice, every wrinkle, every erotic place longing for touch. I am my own knowledgeable lover. Slow and deliberate I shall be, though the hour is late and tired I am. Conversations had this evening, leave the need for release. Not a chat had with a new acquaintance, with whom I share day to day experiences. No, this lover is an old and trusted friend. A teacher, a confidant, an intimidation artist, an enticer, a self-proclaimed bondage instructor all rolled into one. Rarely using vulgar or descriptive language, his messages are clear and intriguing. Thoughts shared, touch my inner self, becoming realities...unbridled sex in my mind.
Slipping off the comfortable t-shirt and thong, I stand before my bedroom window, gazing at the house across the street. A cool spring night breeze brushing lightly across breasts; nipples reacting instantly. Lit windows across the way; I know they watch me. Caught they have been, their eyes riveted to a scene unfolding before them. Blinds open, curtains fluttering in the breeze, the view unobstructed, for I too, am voyeur.
Envy felt for those who wore skimpy summer wear, bra-less, over the years has given way to the love of the way my nipples feel. Full breasts, an attraction to select men can be as I found later in life, searching for the ultimate sexual fulfillments. Such a soft dusty rose they are, only slightly to be seen against the paleness of my skin. The aureoles are large, ridges pronounced; nipples extending far enough to pinch. Heavy feelings erupt within my pelvis as fingernails pierce; the mouth and teeth of my teacher in mind's eye. Forcefully gripping, one nipple in his teeth, tightly biting, roughly tugging. Moans of delight at the first hints of exquisite pain yet to come.
Candles and incense stimulating senses. Cool sheets under bare skin invite comforting shivers. Lying back against the pillows, closing eyes, running hands up the inside of thighs to that place, wet and longing to be touched. Lightly running fingertips everywhere, so many sensations. Teasing myself knowing these moments all too fleeting. Lingering in my mind with him, fueling the fire to peak. His hands running across my ribs and stomach to between my thighs, caressing me and clutching at my flesh, kneading till I'm trembling from the need to join.
Two fingers of my right hand, appeasing my core demanding its attention. Circling, back and forth, each time more pressure building; the rhythm, not uniform, tantalizing. Starting, stopping as though fooling myself as to what is to come. Stroking would onset climax; but satisfaction more complete by fullness stroked within me. A vibrator or glass perfume bottle with a band of small ridges, sparkling as it captures light, inserted slowly, savoring the pressure might have been nice. This time three fingers combined; a staff worthy of attention. One, two, what bliss, three digits, wiggling, crawling inside me. Crushing my bud with my right, violating myself with my left; the mind's lover thrusts into me, tearing me apart. Jamming himself to spine and back, torturing with each stroke. Each entry bringing me closer to a whimpering release. Aching fingers, full motion, steady efforts, unyielding till slated.
Right, left, which is more satisfying? Arching back with head grinding into a pillow; concentrating on sensations building quickly. Sucking sounds as fingers struggle in and out, pushing towards a goal. Burying fingers, knowing soreness will follow. Not caring, loving the feeling, burning desires of passion. Hips gyrating as though matching another's movements, currents gathering, starting at toes, flowing towards thighs, not breathing, trying to prolong completion. Electrifying currents overtaking my being, across the rings piercing my nipples. The final culminating event overtaking me. "Yes...", a cry, a rejoicing release of frustrating tension. My lover, milked for all he was worth. Waiting for his groan of satisfaction, longing to be held safe, close in his arms after, only in my mind. Hugging myself, rocking, soothing, as mother a child, until my breathing, to normal returns. Pulling fingers slowly away, taking them into my mouth, memorizing taste and smell.
No trouble sleeping I shall have this night.