Between the heat and the cool, the quiet and the conversation, the holding out and the holding on, the new and the familiar, there are moments… Undefined.
Moments of touch…
I am awake, fully now after my late day snooze, and my body is just now coming into its senses. Where only moments ago I hit a plateau – so good… so good… God, his fingers… FUCK, so good… but I just can’t, not now… not yet – I begin the climb again anew, internally, listening to the sweet low tones of his voice against the background krff-krfff-krff of towels tumbling in the dryer down the hall.
I touch my tongue to my lips while I listen to his seductive rumble, savoring the aftertaste of his mouth so recently pressed to mine, feeling desire rush through me anew as my clit starts to thrum to the humming rhythm of our towels tossing themselves dry.
The buzzer sounds its alert: Maytag has finished…
…but I haven’t even begun.
He sits across from me on the couch, and I cannot help but lick my lips as I watch his lips move, ready – and natural – as my next heartbeat to climb into his lap and finish, for both of us, what he’d so recently begun.
I blink slowly, allowing the delicious vision of What Will Be – coming together… cumming… together – form in my mind’s eye, when in the space of my next breath, he asks…
“Sooo… Are you ready…”
God, yes. SO ready…
“…to help me fold laundry?”
…and of laughter.
I blink, sexy thoughts completely derailed by this utterly domestic request, and it is through watery eyes and peeling laughter that I give him my (non)response.
“Boy, do YOU know how to proposition a girl!”