A bit more poetic, ethereal...
3-Jan-26 11:44
This time, enjoy an ethereal experience with me.
Add a friend if you like, a reading partner.
Take your time.
Let it sink in.
Savor it.
It may have happened this way…
Or, maybe not.
The sexy life blurs after a while.
I lay atop a pile of blankets in the back of a pickup truck parked somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe an hour remains before the moon dips below the horizon and leaves me with only the stars.
A simple, cotton dress separates my puckering skin from the slightest breeze and the cooling air.
Every muscle relaxes; all thought leaves my mind.
I simply exist.
A being.
A soul.
Alone.
Here.
Now.
The blankets warm my back; the breeze cools my front.
In between, my body floats.
Nearby, gravel crunches, even, steady, stops.
A welcome presence approaches.
Unexpected, yet unsurprising.
Why here?
Why now?
For the nuance of the night.
Closer. Exuding confidence.
For what only two halves of the same can share.
Closer. Exuding care.
No need to see. My eyes close.
What can not be seen is surely felt.
A patch of warmth caresses my ankle. Another traces my shin.
Gently they join into trails of gliding feathers.
They skip to the other side, roaming down, then up, then over.
For a moment they escape to another task, a mere tug to release a basic knot.
Free from the only bond, dress fabric sighs to my sides, exposing more to the fading glow.
A solo touch-point returns. Wanders.
Light near my knee, firmer atop my thigh.
Light again over my hip. Lingering under my breast. Circling my nipple.
A second joins.
A third.
Gentle. Sweeping.
Around and around.
The solo plays once more.
Drifts lower to where my mound rises from my abdomen. It traces the top edge, then the side, back to the top, down the other side.
The circuit continues. Up. Over. Down. Pause. Up. Over. Down.
A new connection greets my nipple. This one brings a definitive combination only lips and tongue can provide: Warmth, wetness.
They move along the swell of my breast to my clavicle then explore inward, upward, following my neck all the way to my ear.
Excitement focuses on narrow places.
My pulse remains steady.
The lips float to my other nipple. Linger.
The touch on my mound becomes wider, firmer. It avoids the close, tiny bundle of nerves for the folds larger and then smaller below.
Opening me, it explores the edge of the most intimate area. Opening me more, it discovers an answer sought to inspire.
It resists entry, reserving that honor for something more worthy.
Instinct reacts with reflex.
One leg rises, eases to the side.
The other mimics.
Over my womanly valley comes the simultaneous, familiar darkness and soon to be tremendous weight of the presence. Like a thundercloud heavy with drenching, but necessary, rain, it eclipses the unseen falling moon and ever-present stars.
Warmth and weight replace coolness and levity.
Imposition follows, presses, probes.
Nature’s slippery disguise foils my meager resistance.
My half welcomes the other half.
One and one becomes another.
Perhaps… something else entirely.
What surrounds what is within makes this possible.
Movement seeks a complete fit, deep within, satisfies one half, while spurring the other to initiate removal in search of impossible perfection. Withdrawal to the very edge of containment demands a return to the indistinct center.
The fullness pleases me. I require nothing more. I am content.
Movement echoes.
Repeat.
Carefully.
Full then almost vacant.
Repeat.
Deliberately.
Full the almost vacant.
Repeat.
Satisfaction will arise.
Eventually.
Easy to simply be present in this moment. I need only wait and receive.
The pace increases gradually, unhurriedly, toward release.
I remain calm, patient for the inevitable.
For this… I have come.
A swelling not my own, yet deep in my core, sends a momentary shock. My eyes remain closed, but my mouth opens.
For this… I am made.
My core accepts the increasing pressure, the incandescence, the full measure of another’s satisfaction that spills and spreads.
For this… I have given myself.
The balance of the universe requires one who is taken… also… to take.
And so, as I give generously so I receive.
My pleasure, my unexpressed joy, swirls through a mind free of cluttering thought, unhindered by expectations, unbridled to flow as one with my body.
The marvelous union of two idles in sentient bliss.
Time suspends… a clock unwound.
And then… a marvelous union drifts apart.
While an end vanishes, a beginning arrives.
Combined bodies separate, each retaining the shared memory of having been one.
Weight disappears.
Coolness returns.
The moon slips away.
Stars wink from above.
Too soon, dawn casts shadows drawn over two tracks in the gravel.
Pumpjacks bobbing in the distance.
A breeze collecting dust.
A consciousness… dissolves.
The present… is now.
(Stay sexy!
-Jen)
Add a friend if you like, a reading partner.
Take your time.
Let it sink in.
Savor it.
It may have happened this way…
Or, maybe not.
The sexy life blurs after a while.
I lay atop a pile of blankets in the back of a pickup truck parked somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe an hour remains before the moon dips below the horizon and leaves me with only the stars.
A simple, cotton dress separates my puckering skin from the slightest breeze and the cooling air.
Every muscle relaxes; all thought leaves my mind.
I simply exist.
A being.
A soul.
Alone.
Here.
Now.
The blankets warm my back; the breeze cools my front.
In between, my body floats.
Nearby, gravel crunches, even, steady, stops.
A welcome presence approaches.
Unexpected, yet unsurprising.
Why here?
Why now?
For the nuance of the night.
Closer. Exuding confidence.
For what only two halves of the same can share.
Closer. Exuding care.
No need to see. My eyes close.
What can not be seen is surely felt.
A patch of warmth caresses my ankle. Another traces my shin.
Gently they join into trails of gliding feathers.
They skip to the other side, roaming down, then up, then over.
For a moment they escape to another task, a mere tug to release a basic knot.
Free from the only bond, dress fabric sighs to my sides, exposing more to the fading glow.
A solo touch-point returns. Wanders.
Light near my knee, firmer atop my thigh.
Light again over my hip. Lingering under my breast. Circling my nipple.
A second joins.
A third.
Gentle. Sweeping.
Around and around.
The solo plays once more.
Drifts lower to where my mound rises from my abdomen. It traces the top edge, then the side, back to the top, down the other side.
The circuit continues. Up. Over. Down. Pause. Up. Over. Down.
A new connection greets my nipple. This one brings a definitive combination only lips and tongue can provide: Warmth, wetness.
They move along the swell of my breast to my clavicle then explore inward, upward, following my neck all the way to my ear.
Excitement focuses on narrow places.
My pulse remains steady.
The lips float to my other nipple. Linger.
The touch on my mound becomes wider, firmer. It avoids the close, tiny bundle of nerves for the folds larger and then smaller below.
Opening me, it explores the edge of the most intimate area. Opening me more, it discovers an answer sought to inspire.
It resists entry, reserving that honor for something more worthy.
Instinct reacts with reflex.
One leg rises, eases to the side.
The other mimics.
Over my womanly valley comes the simultaneous, familiar darkness and soon to be tremendous weight of the presence. Like a thundercloud heavy with drenching, but necessary, rain, it eclipses the unseen falling moon and ever-present stars.
Warmth and weight replace coolness and levity.
Imposition follows, presses, probes.
Nature’s slippery disguise foils my meager resistance.
My half welcomes the other half.
One and one becomes another.
Perhaps… something else entirely.
What surrounds what is within makes this possible.
Movement seeks a complete fit, deep within, satisfies one half, while spurring the other to initiate removal in search of impossible perfection. Withdrawal to the very edge of containment demands a return to the indistinct center.
The fullness pleases me. I require nothing more. I am content.
Movement echoes.
Repeat.
Carefully.
Full then almost vacant.
Repeat.
Deliberately.
Full the almost vacant.
Repeat.
Satisfaction will arise.
Eventually.
Easy to simply be present in this moment. I need only wait and receive.
The pace increases gradually, unhurriedly, toward release.
I remain calm, patient for the inevitable.
For this… I have come.
A swelling not my own, yet deep in my core, sends a momentary shock. My eyes remain closed, but my mouth opens.
For this… I am made.
My core accepts the increasing pressure, the incandescence, the full measure of another’s satisfaction that spills and spreads.
For this… I have given myself.
The balance of the universe requires one who is taken… also… to take.
And so, as I give generously so I receive.
My pleasure, my unexpressed joy, swirls through a mind free of cluttering thought, unhindered by expectations, unbridled to flow as one with my body.
The marvelous union of two idles in sentient bliss.
Time suspends… a clock unwound.
And then… a marvelous union drifts apart.
While an end vanishes, a beginning arrives.
Combined bodies separate, each retaining the shared memory of having been one.
Weight disappears.
Coolness returns.
The moon slips away.
Stars wink from above.
Too soon, dawn casts shadows drawn over two tracks in the gravel.
Pumpjacks bobbing in the distance.
A breeze collecting dust.
A consciousness… dissolves.
The present… is now.
(Stay sexy!
-Jen)
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