There is a time, a space, a fissure, between darkness and light, sleep and waking, dreams and consciousness, where he comes to me.
He steps out of my sleepy imaginings, his phantom form made material, filling the place beside me. The bed sinks under his weight, the pillow rustles with the drop of his head. His heat overwhelms the white expanse on which I rest.
Just as I stir threatening to wake, he moves in to me. His body greets my soft nakedness, his hands play with my curls, his lips brush along my freckly back.
Filled with the pleasure of his simple touch, I then move in to him. Enveloped in his arms, his heartbeat and breath mingling with my own, I relish the sensation of his silky wrapped hardness against my skin.
But as the light beams through and my eyes begin to register the day, the spell is broken and I am alone once more. While he fades into the glow, I lie in bed hoping he will appear to me again with the breaking of another dawn.
6 comments:
There's a curious fog of unreality on the border between sleep and waking. Dreams become reality and reality blurs into dream. It can make for a wonderfully erotic atmosphere -- as you show very nicely here. Well done!
-- PB
Thank you PB! I also think there's something quite magical about that moment, where both mind and body are open and receptive to the physical world as well as a realm that is almost purely sensory (and sensual).
Just stopped by at PB's recommendation - lovely place - will definitely be back! :)
Duchess, welcome! Drop by any time...
I've just been round to yours and look forward to some summer reading.
Reminds me of the feeling I have when my Love is away too long... what is that space between sleep and awake that allows the mind such playful treachery.
It is a treachery, I agree Fantasia, but an oh so deliciously erotic one ...
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