Tempest

"Real strength never impairs beauty or harmony, but it often bestows it; and in everything impossibly beautiful, strength has much to do with the magic." - Herman Melville

I wondered if you could feel my eyes burning your face as I looked at you. It wasn't so much that I was staring at you, it was a learning moment - a largely scientific attempt to memorize every inch of you - knowing that soon, a sensory overload would force thought out of my mind faster than the speed of sound.

Your sunglasses obscured your eyes, but I knew they were twinkling with that amused gleam that they always carried. Moreover, I knew that when you looked at me, the impish sparkle would transform into something different, the boyishness giving way to a singular sort of intenisty - a pinpoint of pure focus. It was this look that I had come to crave, and longed to learn how to elicit it at my own whim.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat of your car, trying to see what aspects of you I could recall blindly. Instantly, your distinct dimple popped into my mind and made me giggle out loud. You squeezed my knee then, asking what was so funny. I smiled at you as your tongue slid out of your mouth and out at me slightly, a gesture I had already become quite familiar with. That knowledge made me smile more broadly, and I wondered if you realized you were doing it.

I closed my eyes again to continue the mental recollection, but was distracted by the trail of your hand from my knee, further down my thigh. I felt myself sigh deeply, relishing the pressure of your hand, the warmth followed by coolness left behind at each point as your hand continued to explore.

You said something then that made me laugh and my mind drifted back to our meeting. Initially, it was your wit that charmed me. Only those that are keenly observant and healthily skeptical can manage to be sharply acerbic - but never cruel. I remembered too saying goodnight to you on that first date; standing embarassingly close, hoping against hope for a kiss that never came. It mattered not; your kisses were always given freely now.

Your hands slid further still down my thigh and I leaned in to your arm, wrapping as much of my body around you as I could manage. I wanted you to stop the car, to drag me into the fields that peppered the route, to lay with you in the grass and feel you fill me. Instead, I parted my legs slightly to allow your hand better access and felt myself moisten from your touch. I looked again at your face and saw the dimple, content in the knowledge that you were happy.

As we neared our destination, I felt the intensity of your touch increase, matching my own need for you. Yes, we'd be at our destination in no time.

I can't recall who began to undress the other first, but I suspect it was you - your impatience
typically resulting in my clothes being removed long before my conscious mind realized it was time. Quite naturally, my body reacted to you long before my brain caught up - well-prepared to accept you from your first touch, as your tongue brushed against mine. As you carried me to bed, I relaxed onto your body, each time you lifted me onto you aroused me tremendously - a testament to your fortitude - the strength of your very being.

I vividly recall the sensations of our mouths exploring every inch of each other intimately, of pressing my body closer and closer to yours, overwhelmed by sensation and longing to feel you deep inside of me, to feel even closer still. I moved on top of you eager to bring you into my core, my soul. You took control of the situation then, rolling me off of you, onto my back, and plunging deeply inside my desperate need. I came hard and fast around you, feeling your warmth escape into me, reveling in sensation.

As you sat up on the bed and pulled me into you, I pretended to stare at the city below through the window. In reality, I was watching us in the expansive glass, reflected in the late afternoon sun, trying to decide whether our images looked as right as time with you felt. Moments later, you escorted me to the bathroom and leaning my nude body over the bathroom counter, began your own critique of our reflections.

You must have thought it odd that I chose not to join you in the shower, but instead excused myself to dress for dinner. Later, when we returned to bed, I would whisper the reason to you - going out with the reminder of our passion still on, still in my body aroused me - a special little secret that only the two of us shared.

As you waited for me to finish dressing, the sounds of you making your final preparations amused me. You poured drinks for us both, made phone calls, read email and finished dressing. I smiled and thought, "Always so busy, always doing." It was one of the things that I liked best about you. As I emerged, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of you dressed for dinner; I was proud to be in the company of my very handsome man.

I was nervous about climbing into bed with you that night, our first night to actually sleep together. I worried that my contortions would disturb you, or that you'd snore and disturb me. My apprehensions were for naught - I fell asleep instantly, a rare treat. It was easy with you - your hands stroking my body relaxed me into a dreamless sleep.

The sleep would be short-lived, however. I woke only a few hours later to feel your breath on my neck, your arms securely around me. I turned to face you. I wanted to watch you sleep, to learn more about this secret part of your life. My movement disturbed your sleep, and we stole sleepy kisses as you slid effortlessly into me, gently rocking me to another orgasm and gently rocking me back to sleep, your cock still nestled into me.

Waking in the morning, I felt treasured and secured nestled into your chest, your arm still wrapped gently around me. I rested my head on your stomach waking you with gentle kisses, wanting to arouse you gently, to bring you magic, to make you feel as prized.