I see you standing on the far side of the room as I emerge from the shower. I'm dry now, and wearing thin cotton Indian pants. You are standing by the window, you are drying your hair with the blower, and the sun catches light in your hair, sparkling like ripples in water. You are wearing a turquoise-blue robe. It is light, the pale blue silk patterned with white chrysanthemum flowers. It looks Japanese, the deep sleeves slide back up your arms as you dry your hair. The robe hangs open, the sunlight glows in an aura around your soft breasts, the cool air by the window chills your nipples just enough to make them harden. You glow in the sunlight, an aura of light surrounding the dark silhouette of your presence, light through the soft curls of your silky fur.
I walk over to you, past the bed. You put the hair-dryer down on the chair, and turn to me. Gently you reach out with your left arm, and draw my face down to your face. Pausing, we gaze, deep into each others' eyes. And you smile. And in that smile the world lights up in the dazzling brilliance of your sweet presence. I lean down towards you. Our lips just barely touch. Our kiss is the softest, gentlest possible kiss, hardly felt, but the mere contact is a pulse of unimaginable intensity, thrilling through our bodies. We take our time to kiss, each time lingering longer before drawing apart to savour the renewed touch, like rain on rose-petals. So softly felt, so gently moist, just our lips, brushing over each other in an eager searching, growing in urgency now. And your tongue just flickers out, exploring the corners of my mouth, teasing my lips. And my tongue can only reply, tasting the smoothness of your teeth, lingering between your teeth and the inside silkiness of your lips.
You pull me firmly to you, and now our kisses are powerful, deep, demanding, hungry to be as intense and powerful as the ripples of desire waving through us, coursing through us in surges like the breakers rushing up the beach, curling and breaking in cascades of swishing foam, rushing in and sighing back, rushing and sighing.
And you reach down with your right hand, enfolding my swelling hardness in your hand, pressing against me, stroking me through the thin cotton fabric, so that I 'm curving, rigid, yearning upwards, rigid, pulsating, every vein standing out, responding to your gentle firm squeeze.
I reach down with my right hand, leaning down I take your nipples gently in my teeth, licking around them with the hard tip of my tongue, then softening my tongue, swirling around the soft delicate skin of your areolas. And with my hand, I slide down over your belly, stroking slow circles around your navel, gradually allowing my hands to slide through the soft silky fur above your yoni. And my fingers slide down. The middle fingers slide through the wetness of your parting yoni lips, and my outer fingers glide around the outer edges, so that I gently squeeze your lips as my fingers glide over the silkiness of your soft fur, sliding through the warm wetness of your swelling yoni. And my fingers feel the hardness of your pearl within the secret lips. Gently, softly, slowly, my fingers glide around and around and across the folds of your lips, teasing, pulling, squeezing, so that you feel ripple upon ripple of warm melody singing through the waves of your desire, the rhythm of our love building and building in urgency and intensity, You are squeezing me harder now, and the head of my lingam is swollen and hard, the rim a firm ridge through the thin cloth. My fingers slide into you now, curling up into the sweet darkness, in to the rich harmonies of your sacred folds, deep notes resonating through the chorus of our yearning.
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I walk over to you, past the bed. You put the hair-dryer down on the chair, and turn to me. Gently you reach out with your left arm, and draw my face down to your face. Pausing, we gaze, deep into each others' eyes. And you smile. And in that smile the world lights up in the dazzling brilliance of your sweet presence. I lean down towards you. Our lips just barely touch. Our kiss is the softest, gentlest possible kiss, hardly felt, but the mere contact is a pulse of unimaginable intensity, thrilling through our bodies. We take our time to kiss, each time lingering longer before drawing apart to savour the renewed touch, like rain on rose-petals. So softly felt, so gently moist, just our lips, brushing over each other in an eager searching, growing in urgency now. And your tongue just flickers out, exploring the corners of my mouth, teasing my lips. And my tongue can only reply, tasting the smoothness of your teeth, lingering between your teeth and the inside silkiness of your lips.
You pull me firmly to you, and now our kisses are powerful, deep, demanding, hungry to be as intense and powerful as the ripples of desire waving through us, coursing through us in surges like the breakers rushing up the beach, curling and breaking in cascades of swishing foam, rushing in and sighing back, rushing and sighing.
And you reach down with your right hand, enfolding my swelling hardness in your hand, pressing against me, stroking me through the thin cotton fabric, so that I 'm curving, rigid, yearning upwards, rigid, pulsating, every vein standing out, responding to your gentle firm squeeze.
I reach down with my right hand, leaning down I take your nipples gently in my teeth, licking around them with the hard tip of my tongue, then softening my tongue, swirling around the soft delicate skin of your areolas. And with my hand, I slide down over your belly, stroking slow circles around your navel, gradually allowing my hands to slide through the soft silky fur above your yoni. And my fingers slide down. The middle fingers slide through the wetness of your parting yoni lips, and my outer fingers glide around the outer edges, so that I gently squeeze your lips as my fingers glide over the silkiness of your soft fur, sliding through the warm wetness of your swelling yoni. And my fingers feel the hardness of your pearl within the secret lips. Gently, softly, slowly, my fingers glide around and around and across the folds of your lips, teasing, pulling, squeezing, so that you feel ripple upon ripple of warm melody singing through the waves of your desire, the rhythm of our love building and building in urgency and intensity, You are squeezing me harder now, and the head of my lingam is swollen and hard, the rim a firm ridge through the thin cloth. My fingers slide into you now, curling up into the sweet darkness, in to the rich harmonies of your sacred folds, deep notes resonating through the chorus of our yearning.
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