And so it happened thus: She dressed up in nothing black and wore her hair so that it defined her eyes; just the way he liked it – to capture his attention.
It was a hotel room as usual, but had there been onlookers present, they would have concluded from the intensity of their commitment to the conversation that the discussion was at least very serious. Their discussion though, was mostly about the weather for whenever they attempted a more personal approach to conversation something bizarre happened. They both stuttered on foolishly like teenagers. This was ok though, for even as they babbled on incoherently, the words were lost anyway. All they saw in each other were eyes and lips. And bravely, it began:
‘I missed you’ she said and he shook his head.
Therefore, she did not, but that was only for a few minutes. That was only until she moved close and was less than seconds away from his breath.
‘I want you to take me in your arms and dishevel me the way only you do! Lift me up and slam me against that wall. Press it against me until it leaves nothing to my imagination. Bite my neck and give me a fucking hicky! Dude, do to me what you do to drive me insane. Come in deep, slow, fast and slow again. Let us create a tempo. Make me scream incoherent gibberish!’
His eyes were responding. They roamed frantically around her anatomy. Her breasts. Her waist. Her thighs. Her hair. Her neck. However, he shook his head. She could hear him breathing… his heart was racing!
She did not dare reveal the mischievous smile that was lurking beneath the surface. He shook his head, yes, but his eyes told a different story. He showed nothing if not the strong desire inside his…head (sure). Anyway, his head was saying no, but his traitor eyes had other ideas and enlisted the help of his hands to begin to carry out her requests. They explored north and particularly south of her anatomy with much enthusiasm. Nevertheless, he shook his head.
So like the good little submissive girl she was, she lay on her back and lured him to the entrance. She engaged him in good old ‘missionary’, and when she felt his presence, ‘welcome’ she moaned. She let him feed her the nourishment she craved. Every time he did something she liked, she told him about it, well kind of. She screamed his name, wriggled her waist, and accepted that at that time, he was captain of this very happy ship! Just before the moment came when she predicted he would go cross-eyed and let out a brief manly scream of delight, she gently forced herself free of him. For a moment there, he was taken aback, but that was only until she beckoned him to lie down and be the recipient and she, the giver. She still looked timid and grateful and shy when she climbed astride him. Then the look on her face changed. Her eyes lit up and she had this ‘gotcha’ look on her face. She started. She worked that little waist and looked in his eyes all the while. She wriggled her way round it, a perfect 360 degree round his love stick, and she never had to pause for re-adjustments, re-enforcements, etc. It was perfectly comfortable and co-ordinated with the rhythm in her head. This technique required perfect synchronisation and compatibility between them both to create the intended magic. The angles were ingenious and expert and his yelps were like music to her ears and spurred her on. He was under her spell totally!
‘So who is dishevelled now?’ she asked burning his eyes with hers.
‘Please…’ he whispered
‘Please what?’ she asked
‘Please stop?’ she asked and she stopped. He shook his head. He was getting there. She made his stick her lollypop for about two minutes and quickly went back on it. This particular moment belonged to the tingly part, south of her anatomy; her mouth could get it any other time. She finished the job perfectly. She watched him go cross-eyed and what was usually a ‘manly’ release with a second or two of sound was a long, deep, outcry of satisfaction.
He shook her foundations, and opened her heart.
She sat there still, staring at him. He stared back. At that moment, she knew not what he thought, but her heart reached out to him through her eyes.
‘Please love me. I have loved you since the first day my eyes met yours. In my dreams, you have declared your love to me a thousand times. Do my eyes not show you pictures of what my love for you can feel like?’ But her lips uttered not a sound. She jolted herself up quicker than lightening.
‘It’s over!’ she screamed at him. (Had it ever started really? She wondered to herself and thought how stupid that outburst was, but oh well…)
‘It was over long time ago… that’s if it even started!’ he exclaimed, exasperated, but before the last word, she had slammed the door.
On the other side of the door, she stood smiling.
‘I won’t count to 10’ she muttered to herself
‘1, 2, 3…’and she confidently had her fingers out counting one finger at a time.
‘4, 5….’ and the door opened frantically. He looked relieved, angry, glad, and confused to see her.
He gently, but firmly lifted her up astride him once more, brought her back into the room and threw her on the bed. This time, they were both wild about it, but were definitely on equal footing.
After the event, she wondered if she could manipulate his heart with an outstanding performance, such as the one she delivered that night. Without a doubt, he was impressed. It showed in his eyes and when he looked at her, she thought she sensed co-ordination of their minds, but was that wishful thinking? Sometimes the mind will see what it wants to see and she was aware of that. She was aware also that his love stick could always pretend to love her, but that would only be temporary – something he could do without and come back for more should the need arise.
So back to that night – when it was the sixth time and still counting, a few months down the line, they would decide that that round held the magic that created their little girl.
What happened in between is what I want to know.
To be continued….
Until next time, let’s dig deep!