something happier, and naughty

Kiss me” I was begging. So unlike me, so strange. I’d call myself strong. I would call myself playful. I would call myself proud. But I was there, standing before you with a terrible desperation in my eyes and begging you.

Do you know how you got me to that moment? Had you counted the seconds until I was there, planning for the capitulation you knew was coming? Did you laugh and smile on the inside, that moment, when I was standing there, feeling as though I was ready to drop to my knees if necessary, so that I could show you I meant every breathy word of it? Or did it surprise you as much as me, to hear my voice, throaty, rasping and soft, begging for you to make me yours at last.

You charmed that plea out of me, with every sweet word you spoke, with every eyebrow you raised and every smile you flashed my way. You put a photo album in my head, and each moment was bringing me further into the picture, and yet, I wanted the best shot. The one of me sighing in your arms. I couldn’t pinpoint that moment, when I realized that I would get to that place, so hungry for the taste of you that I would do whatever I needed to drink from your mouth. But I do know this, the moment you told me you thought I was lovely, I slipped.

And I’ve been tumbling since then, and it landed me there. With you. Out in the cold air, wrapped in a woolen scarf and shivering on my porch steps, reaching out for you and doing something I never envisioned myself doing. The wool was scratching me painfully, and the ache in my legs and back told me to go in and forget this madness, and you. The feeling in my chest of cold air and snow on my face told me to rush into the warmth of my bath, and soak steaming there, and to find the answer to that begging question somewhere in my mind, where I didn’t have to ask and you always said yes. But there was a sick feeling in my stomach and it told be to wait, and to breathe, and to beg. So I did.

You were worth the wait, I will tell you that. When you scooped me up into your arms at last and made me feel like we could melt a whole street’s worth of snow with our kissing, I knew I would beg again if you asked me to. Your mouth descended on mine with a fury I had never seen in you before, and it was fast and deep and fevered – yet you were taking your time with me and I could feel it. Somewhere, inside you, you were savoring that moment as much as I was. I was shocked at how hungry I was for you, and amazed at the tenderness of your lips on mine. You pulled my breath out of me while you kissed me, sucking at my lips and then licking your way down my neck.

I could replay the next moment in my head for an eternity, when you wrapped your arms around me and pulled me against you tightly. There was nowhere for me to go. Nowhere for me to hide. And you were there, unashamed and unabashed at the feelings I inspired in you and you let me feel it. You pulled me closer, and you asked me to let you in. Of course, you wanted to get in out of the cold. You wanted into my house. But my wild thoughts chased through my head and I was sure that I would let you in, deeper than I had let anyone before and I nodded. I could almost feel my breast opening up to you, and reaching out to pull you deep inside me and share with you those shuddering, shaking feelings you were giving me. But you looked at me oddly, and I shook it off, reaching for the keys and letting you into my house.

I felt awkward, and after all the times you had been there, it seemed wholly unnecessary for me to gesture to the couch as I crossed to room to light the fire and mess with my thermostat. But I couldn’t escape you, not that night, and not ever, I think now.

You swooped down on my like a shadow, wrapping around me as if to trap me and pulling me down the hall where you knew my room was. Funny, how after all the times you had been in my room it was suddenly exciting and erotic like it had never been before. I have spent hours there with you, laying against you, telling you everything I could think of, idly stroking your arms and half daydreaming. But it was never like this.

The change from the cold of the outside to the heat I was exposing myself to now was enough to make me feel like my skin was on fire, and that was before you resumed kissing me, as if you were determined not to let me down in fulfilling my request on the porch.

You burned me, with those searing, hard, long kisses. On my face, in my mouth and down my neck. When you pulled aside that ridiculous sheer blouse I’d worn in hopes of tempting you, and began to kiss my shoulders, I know I moaned aloud. You must have liked the sound of it, because you let me run my fingers up your chest, and stroke it tentatively as you continued to pepper me with your passion, all over my neck and shoulders.

I was frightened. Frightened of what I was feeling and what I was doing, and of you and everything you meant to me. But I left my hands there, on your chest, and let you hold me, tightly -as if I was going to fall, and felt the heat on you. You were softer than I had thought you would be, and firmer, somehow, as well. You were warm, and strong and beautiful though, and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting you get away. So I pulled your mouth back to mine, and slipped my tongue inside you and let my fingers move from button to button on your shirt, until your beautiful chest was bared to me at last and I slipped the shirt from your shoulders and buried my face where your shirt had been. I kissed down your breastbone and across, stroking you softly and listening to your moans.

I felt suddenly so weak for all my bravado, and I felt my self slipping in your arms. It causes me to reel, to think of that wavering between desires to strong it made me want to fight, and to run, and passion so great that I cold barely stand under the weight of it. But you were there, knowing my every thought, and you lowered me onto my own bed as though it were yours and you were offering it to me. Your eyes, the way you looked over me and they way you were pleading with me, I knew, at that moment, you were ready to give me every bit of you and you were waiting for me to tell you so.

“Yes,” I can remember my whisper. “Please. I need you. I have for so long.”

“Oh,” It was a moan, more than a statement, and a tender, soft sound of passion and not surprise. You took your time, I was your prize, and you were going to open me slowly and patiently, I could tell. You pulled away my shirt and the skirt I was wearing gently, and ran your beautiful fingers all about my body, in long, swift, loving strokes.


I am sure I sounded a fool, whimpering and begging you for more, as you touched me with passion and tenderness I had only imagined in you, and had never thought I would experience. You found places on me I had not expected you to know, places I had dreamed I would show you but never expected for you to find without me.

My hips, my sides, the backs of my calves. You touched them with your sure strokes and made me cry out for you. You nipped and sucked at the small of my back, and the moved just as swiftly for my hip bones, my collar and my wrists. I lay there, bound by you, a sheen of passion glistening on me, and you fed the fire until I couldn’t see from the heat of it all.

I reached for you, blindly, as if there were nothing else I wanted or needed and in that moment. And to tell you the truth, love, there was nothing else. Just you, the feeling of you, and that soft, whimsy feeling you were invoking in my chest, in my mouth and between my legs. And you were there.

You had slipped into your own nothingness faster than I could see it. And you were slipping inside me.

As much as I would have loved a long tender amount of foreplay; as much as I would have had you linger over every part of me; as much as I would have loved to explore every bit of you with my mouth and fingers and tongue – you did what I needed you to do. That was what I wanted above all those things. You, all of you, filling every part of me. And I couldn’t have it soon enough.

You were deep, so deep inside me. And you were hotter than I imagined. You knew how to move. It was fast and yet laboriously slow lovemaking. I wanted it to go on forever. You touched inside me with expert ease. You stroked me with movement that gave me the fleeting thought that I had been haunting your dreams in much the way you had danced in and out of mine for as long as I could remember.

I stroked your back, feeling your firmness and pulling you closer. I couldn’t bear it, it almost hurt to have you there at last, in the back of my mind I could feel it wouldn’t last forever. You were beautiful though. The soft sighs escaping your lips and tickling my ears were like soft gentle music I wanted to fall inside of. The smell of you, your body and your arousal was heady and I felt dizzy as you moved with me.

Soon, all too soon for me, I could feel that dam inside me tearing and tumbling forward into a crashing symphony of moans, pain and beauty all at once. I wouldn’t stop, and you wouldn’t have let me stop if I had wanted, you moving more surely, as if this was all you had wanted, all along, to see me like this, tears rolling down my cheeks as you brought me to a place I had never seen or felt before. Pulsing, pulling, pushing away with hard passion – my body did all these things at once as I pulled your tighter and harder into me with a groan that tore out of me before I could stop it. I was crying, I know, and calling your name and holding tight to you as if you were the only thing that kept me attached to reality.

And then you let go. You let your passion finish me completely, and I am still amazed at that moment when I could see how far gone you were in your eyes. They were afire and cold as ice at the same time, heavy lidded and wide open. Your gorgeous lips, so delicate, so sensuous, were parted with a beautiful look dancing about them. I want to hear the sound of you calling for me again and again. Love, that beautiful word, and you called me it. Love. With your voice hoarse from the beauty of what you were feeling and shaking from the intensity of our feelings for each other. You called me love. And it was amazing.

When you collapsed on me, half sobbing yourself, but still there, with me, waiting to show me more of how you could make me feel, I let you in completely. We lay there, my arms slipped behind your shoulders keeping you close to me. You kissed on my cheeks and nuzzled into my neck and sighed softly. You kept your mouth close to mine, breathing in and out with me, in an intense almost-kiss that kept me shivering long after we had both finished. I looked into your face, and I showed you my eyes. My emotion, the longing I had hidden from you for so long. The desperate need to have you with me, the way we had just been, again and again, as long as you would let me.

“You’re beautiful.” I whisper, softly, with every bit of feeling I can muster. I stroke your face, and pull you close to me, kissing you deeply, as though you are a wine I cannot drink enough of.


Yes, you made me beg. You made me feel weak and shaky and perfect and beautiful all at once. You moved me beyond the lines of my own sanity, into a new place, a place I’d not felt. You moved my world, you re-arranged it, and put your passion in the center. You took every bit of me and tasted it. You made me yours. And tonight, I will beg. “Love, do it again.”

*************

There, I hope you like it. Made me feel better....