Sunday, December 30, 2012

In the Palm of His Hand

The gesture is simple, the touch so complex that the slumbering little muscle slams instantly against her breast, the roar of blood in her ears draining away all sound as he takes one small step, filling the hollow, reclaiming his place, his hand reaching up to tenderly welcome her face, his palm at rest on her cheek now healing the breach, strong fingers drawing quiet circles on the softness of her nape, his caress, his caress, his caress finally speaking the words he cannot say, betraying the desire, his failure to forget, his inability to neglect the yearning, the need to have her once again with a completeness that leaves him on the verge, running to the edge, plunging into the breath and the life and the pleasure sensual and decadent which stirs his body, which hardens his cock, which murmurs sweetly, screams savagely to the truth of his soul in the long dark dead of night.

But it is only once she dares to meet his gaze that her heart truly breaks and her body shatters with it, revealing all she had attempted to shield and hide away, releasing the flood of her passion, the fine cotton around her hips sodden in barely a moment, the scorched glisten breaking the barrier, dripping, clinging to the creamy skin between her thighs, marking her body as his, etching his name on the smoothness, on her mound, on the scarlet lips plump and shining with the craving for his mouth and his tongue and his flesh, his flesh, his flesh, the thick uncut shaft that has her longing, yearning, that has her body arching and hurtling to the light, that has her now spreading her legs for him the glare of the day, that has him sliding two fingers into her needy sex, that has them crooked to find that little honeyed spot, his thumb brushing with an aching lightness over her clitoris, that has him fingering her cunt until the muscles in his arm are ready to tear themselves to shreds, until she grasps his shoulders, her tongue rasping his lobe, her voice reduced to a sultry whisper, his name on her lips again a moan, her cunt clutching at his fingers, her orgasm taking her to breath’s end, her come, her come, her come hot and sweetly pungent in the palm of his hand, in the palm, in the hand holding her tight, holding her close, holding her in the hopes she never lets him go.

8 comments:

Jack and Jill said...

An erotic morsel to occupy my mind as I drift off to sleep. Thanks for that.

-Jack

Octavia said...

Proof that your mind is as enticing as the subject of your photographs. It was like being on the edge of a dream that I didn't want to wake up from.
Cheers,
Octavia

Southern Sir said...

Minx, this is beautiful. It hits a spot deep in my core that I thought was buried long ago.
Thank you

All About Love And Sex said...

This is a well-written sex session, written with good taste, erotic and yet not sleazy!

Keep up the good work!

cammies on the floor said...

Love the repetition. It holds me attention there like the height of an orgasm holds me still in the moment, or the hand that holds and teases and pleases.

Cheeky Minx said...

Jack: I can only hope it had you dreaming of the sinfully erotic...

Octavia: You certainly know how to make this gal smile and blush. Thank you for the truly beautiful compliment, lovely lady...

Southern Sir: I find it difficult to believe that softness was buried long ago. Go back and read your work. It's there on the surface, dancing between the words...

All About Love and Sex: Thank you very much...

cammies on the floor: What a gorgeous thing to say...

Verbose Lothario said...

I just commented on another post about the words I couldn't say, and now you've stated it much better here. :)

Cheeky Minx said...

I'm always happy to wrap my lips and tongue around words you long to say, VL... ;-)