Night's song

His fingers brushed against my cheeks and a thousand
slumbering monsters of lust were awoken withbut my
moan. Fingertipped promises touching me as I had feared
this many years. Fingertips: Taunting me to become even
more of me than I wished to be. Softness. Joy. Wetness of
lust overtaking me as fingertips taunted and his lips softly
touched mine to create a universe of our own creation.

Breasts of wanting, heaving out in their cries for attention.
Nipples, now erect from the awakening of their long
slumbering, giggled as a fingertip found them and cast
dreams of want and desire so deep into me. Me? A woman
a moment before, but now a child wildly wishing for all
that this magic could give. A woman of a child, blended
together by too many years. The woman holding all at a
distance now surrendering to the child who craved the
songs of his fingertips.

Oh, mother moon, sweet Goddess of the night sky, why
have you waited so long to kiss him down to me? Have you
now sent but torment upon the nocturnal winds so that my
breasts may cry back to you what these lips cannot?

His lips, now hot and yet as elusive as any thought, cast
their spells upon the yielding skin of my neck. Kiss by kiss,
demand by demand, I find reason to pull his nakedness
even closer to mine. Reasons of lust, reasons of need, all
that is logic has now been cast away for but the sweet of
need and the lust of my heaving breasts, screaming to me
deep in my thoughts that the time had now come to satisfy
what I had dreaded for so very long.

A body that is mine, a night cast to him who casts lusty
spells with but his touch. Fingertips and lips, casting
dreams upon my breasts as my hard nipples sing to me. I
am his to touch, to kiss and to fondle as the moon tip-toes
through the night that is now awakening to my own
wetness of need and desire.

His hands roam over the soft skin of my breasts, leaving
trails of fiery need in their wake. Lips of delightful torture
lick at my nipples as my body arches up for him to take all
of me as the moon taught me to sing to him with all my
body. The moon, a song and the touch of his, casting
thoughts to the universe as, with his kisses, he created but
me.

Tortured thoughts of a woman gone wild by but her own
sweet needs, I offer him my body to fondle and kiss with
his happy abandon. Lips upon lips; Lips upon nipples erect,
and now his demented kisses slowly moves down towards
what had been my slumbering womanhood. And with but
one deep kiss upon a wet slit, the moon herself held of
breath in awe as to what her soft rays of light was showing
to her unblinking eyes so very far above.

A kiss up the left and then back down the other side as a
moaned out gasp is cast to heaven above. Kisses of hot
pleasure and need he gives to me, the man teaches me, the
girl hidden deep inside, to laugh and live once again as the
moon now smiles down with envy in her eyes. I call out his
name, and pines whisper back but this lover's lullaby to
accompany my moans and sobs.

With his hands beneath my hips, he lifts me deeper and
deeper to his lips now haunting the deepest corner of this
heart of mine. Slowly his tongue enters me, searching out
the one spot I have dread his touching so much. A kiss and
a tickle and I am his, as his cast spells with his lips and
tongue upon a spot and a mind that both had forgotten the
majesty and sweetness of such a surrendering an the moon
now sees cast out before her.

I look up at her so far above and now that, in this night of
nights, there are two Goddesses that now behold each
other's delight. She, the mother of the night and stars, has
cast wetness of dew drops from within my body and mind,
as his creates bliss without spoken words. The playful
tongue, soft as wispy clouds upon high, claims me as a
victim of the rhapsody which sings out of his needs, wants
and even fears.

Slowly, as the morning kisses the distant horizon, he
becomes a part of me by entering into the wet depths he
created this night before the moon and stars above. Deeper
and deeper he claims as the nightingale sings to this heart
of mine her softest songs. Oh, my god, above, how could I
have slept for so long and dwelled in fear of but the sound
of the Night's song?

My moans and cries shout of my body's happiness as the
mind lets go and rides upon nocturnal winds that blow from
in this heart that burns with a favor I have seldom known
and even less allowed to be accepted. Love lust and I,
together we journey upon the sea, pushed onwards by his
strokes and whispered moans giving to me to please but my
mind.

Songs we sing, names we moaned to each as the morning
came to cast its light upon two people who had shared the
warm lust of each and, in so doing, melted to each to form
but a teardrop of love for the Goddess moon to cast down
to this earth on another night when life is needed to fulfill
this Night's song.