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byLucy1970Harker©

"Before, I almost used to think there was something wrong. Everybody else seemed have the brakes on...I never feel the brakes. I overflow. And when I feel your excitement about life flaring, next to mine, then it makes me dizzy."

Letter from Anais Nin to Henry Miller, March 26, 1932

They sat in front of the fire, first time alone, probably ever, in a house anyway. Not an office or a car.

Someplace comfortable.

He sat a bit of a distance away from her. She was lying on the floor leaning on her elbow. They were talking and having some drinks.

It was really cold outside, and the fire was nice.

She stared at him when he wasn't looking and went over in her head how she could ask if she could sit nearer to him. Or ask if she could touch him. She figured it would probably take a little longer. And a few more drinks.

Because really, most of the time she was near him, she was literally aching to touch him. And that wasn't hyperbole. She really felt some kind of pull that hurt to resist. She was a touchy person. And her nature was to touch people she cared about. Was there a sexual attraction? Hell yeah. But really, the touching thing wasn't about that. Not entirely.

And not only did she ache to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. But it just wouldn't happen. He wasn't that way. And she was aware of the psychological effect that would have – making her want it more. But analysis aside, it didn't change that she wanted it. Bad.

"Did you ever read the book 'Henry and June?'" she asked him.

"No," he said.

"It's from the journals of Anais Nin in like the 30's or 40's I think. And she was good friends and sleeping with Henry Miller at the time. And also friends with his wife who was apparently extremely trusting or never around or didn't care," she said.

"But in the journals, she really details all they did together. She seems to have been able to master the art of writing erotica and still have it be considered literature. I should pay closer attention," she said, and he laughed.

"The point I'm making is she also includes letters between her and Henry. And probably because they are so real, and so graphic, and so honest, I just think they are beautiful," she said.

"I mean Henry Miller did not mince words when it came to sex. Some of it was really filthy, but I think because it was so real, it really made an impact on me beyond that," she said.

"And as it takes me forever to get to a point, sometimes I think of these stories I write for you like that. Not that I'm remotely comparing myself to these two celebrated writers. But I feel like love letters or really letters of any kind have gone by the wayside. And these stories I write for you, they are in some ways the only way I can write you letters, without actually writing you letters. I can write about how I feel and the things I think about when it comes to you. And yes, sexually, all the things I want to do with you and to you that I can't. Unlike Henry and Anais, I'm too scared to use the "I" and the "you" for the most part, and stick with the "she" and the "he." Too scared to own all that. But I like the thought that these are my letters to you, like those in that book," she said.

"You should really read it sometime. I mean, you might hate it, but it is pretty intense," she said.

He wasn't really saying anything. She wondered if she should have said all of that. Most of the time with him she was feeling around in the dark, never knowing if the next step was going to be out the door with no stairs and she'd be falling on her face.

"Was that bad to say?" she said, after he left her hanging in silence a bit more. He was just staring into the fire.

"Of course not. I'm just thinking about it," he said.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

"Can I sit closer to you? I understand if you don't want me to," she asked.

"Of course you can. Look, it is dark out. And I've had some drinks, I can touch you now," he said, smiling.

Now she was scared to. She really needed to get a grip.

"Come over here," he said now, and reached out his hand.

So taking his hand, she kind of crawled over and sat closer to him, still not touching him.

"I thought you were going to come closer?" he asked.

"I'm scared to," she said.

"Come on," he said.

So she got a little closer, sitting right next to him, side by side.

"There, that's not so bad, right?" he said.

It was hard for her to sit like that, still afraid to touch him but being so close. The frustration was in her throat, choking her a little, and to her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears over it for a second. Of all things. If that didn't send him running away nothing would.

"Hey, what's wrong," he said.

"Nothing, I...it is just hard for me to be this close to you and not touch you. And I feel it all the time so I think maybe sitting this close to you and not being able to touch you is too much for me. I'll move away," she said.

He stopped her by touching her elbow.

"Don't," he said.

"You can touch me if you want.".

"Really? You don't mind?" she said.

"Unless you're planning on punching me in the face, no I don't mind," he said.

She laughed a little then.

"Seriously, knock yourself out," he said.

She thought about it for a minute. Took a deep breath. Still was scared, but she moved behind him.

"Where are you going?" he said.

"I can't look at you. Not at first anyway," she said.

She sat closely behind him, on her knees. Slowly, barely touching him, almost as if she was afraid she'd be burned, she put her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes for a second.

She ran her hands from his shoulders and down his arms slightly, then back up and squeezed his shoulders a little. He closed his eyes now, just for a minute. It felt good.

Bracing herself on his shoulders, she lowered herself to the floor off her knees and her legs were around him, they were back to front, with her chest against his back.

She moved her hands, her fingers, to his neck, to his hair, feeling his skin, gently, so gently, trying to contain herself with the feelings running through her. Touching him, finally touching him.

Her hands ran down his back, under his arms now, pulling herself tighter against him now, touching his chest, leaning her cheek against the back of his neck and hugging him to her. His body felt relaxed to hers. She was still afraid to see his face though.

Then she felt his hands on hers, on his chest, pulling her to him tighter. She felt warm against his back, and he leaned against her, taking one hand and touching her knee as her leg ran along his, and ran under her knee, squeezing it gently. He could feel her breasts against his back.

She was so blissfully happy leaning against his back, and she lifted her face so close to his neck and without thinking gently moved her lips over the back of his neck. His eyes closed again involuntarily. That definitely kicked the soft warmth of their closeness up to another level.

She was aware she probably wasn't thinking straight but she really didn't want to snap out of the hypnosis she was under, touching him. Still with her arms around his chest, she moved her lips, not actually kissing him...yet, just barely breathing over the back of his neck, breathing only him. She felt him lean his head back a little, leaning into her mouth, seeming to want more of it.

So then she did gently kiss the back of his neck, and took one of her hands from his chest and bravely now, touched his cheek, softly, his chin...his mouth, tracing the back of his neck with her lips. Her other hand still held onto his chest, keeping her tightly to him, and his hands were under both her knees now, holding her to him tightly as well. She could feel his hands react to the touch of her mouth on his neck, squeezing a little more each time she kissed him.

As she touched his face, he leaned back more, so her lips moved up to his ear now, breathing into it, teasing him a little, kissing him more, over his ear now, to his face, and she could see his eyes were closed, and she was getting close...dangerously close.. to his mouth with hers.

And just as she was deciding to pull back, he softly turned his head in what seemed like the most natural of progression and she was kissing his mouth.

She didn't have time to think about it or be nervous about it or weigh the rights and wrongs of the it. Because it was what was supposed to happen next. And she kissed his mouth, gently, no tongues, just softly kissed his lips. And it felt so good. But then she got scared.

And pulled her mouth away, but not far.

He opened his eyes now, and she was so close to his face, and he reached up, and pulled her around him and into his lap. And now she was shaking a little. And wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him to her, her face buried in his shoulder, in his neck. His arms around her, his hands on her back.

And it felt so good to her to just lose herself in that feeling, being surrounded by him, held by him, more than hugged, really held.

With his hand in her hair now, she felt other things move within her, thinking about her mouth on his, and still scared, she kissed his neck where she had hid her face from him. She couldn't help it, her mouth so close to his skin. And his hand tightened a little bit in her hair as her mouth moved up, up to his face and he turned to her again, and this time, he kissed her.

And this time, she didn't want to pull away. Her fingers were at the back of his neck, in his hair, and he kissed her softly, gently, but then a little harder now, and she kept up with him, opening his mouth now with her tongue and her body moving in his lap, moving up to his mouth, wanting more of it. His fingers held her face and he kissed her harder, harder. And her body pressed against his chest.

She'd thought about this so many times but nothing prepared her for how good it felt to really kiss him, have him kiss her, feel his tongue move with hers, and it got hotter, and hotter and she got scared again but couldn't stop. She knew he couldn't either.

And he kissed her, and it was so good, better than he thought it would be, feeling her tense up with it, feeling her pushing against his body. He wanted more. He kissed her harder, wetter, hotter, and it was getting faster, and now, now his hand moved down her body, over her shirt, and he felt her fingers at his react to his touch by digging into his skin.

Which only served to prod him to touch her more, running his hand over her shirt, over her breast, to the end of her shirt, and he was scared too, but still, her tongue moved in his mouth, hot and hungry against his, and he had to, had to run his hand under her shirt, just up the side of her body, slowly, waiting to see what she would do.

She froze a little but his hand felt warm and strong there, and she could not stop it. She could not pull away from it, and it didn't go where she thought it would, and really at that point she would let him go anywhere, anywhere.

But he ran his hand over her skin to her back, stroked the naked skin of her back, felt her pushing against, felt her back moving, tensing, and really he could not stop his hand from running back to her front and felt her breath catch in his mouth as he traced the outline of the front of her bra, and felt her giving into his hand, his fingers, wanting it.

He was not sure they were ready for this. Or should do it, But he had to. There was nothing else that he could do.

And she was beyond saying no to anything. Really she never said no to him. Ever. And this, this was not where she was going to start, because she wanted his hands on her. All over her, everywhere, and her body wasn't going to let him stop.

And still he hesitated. Just barely, almost.

"Touch me," she sighed, whispered into his mouth, and that was it He took over her mouth again, more, harder, kissing her, working her tongue with his, and it was getting really hot, so hot between them, the tension was almost unbearable but so good, so very good, and now with the kiss at a new height, faster, harder, hotter, he reached behind her again and unhooked her bra and he touched her then.

Her reaction did not disappoint as she arched her back, giving into his hand, pushing into it, his fingers tracing her breast down to the nipple, feeling it respond immediately to his fingers and that was so hot to feel how hard it got and hear her sigh so loudly and kiss him harder, her fingers digging into his back now, and he wanted more, and things got faster, and he no longer hesitated.

He pushed her shirt roughly up and out of the way now, and pulling his mouth away from hers as she sat across his lap he lifted her under her back to him and took that hard nipple into his mouth, and harder her fingers dug into his neck, his back, pulling him to her breast, sighing, gasping to his tongue and his mouth working around her nipple, first one, then the other.

And she, she had lost all trace of reasonable thought and her mind just ran a steady stream of wanting more, more, so good, yes and more.

He pulled her shirt over her head now, out of the way and she unbuttoned his and sat in his lap, straddling his lap now and kissed his mouth again as his hands stroked her breasts and teased her nipples with his fingers. This drove her to the point of near insanity and she pushed his back down onto the rug.

With him lying on his back, she stood up in front of him by the fire and pulled the rest of her clothes off so that she was naked before him, something she would normally be terrified to even consider, but now...now she wanted to be. Needed to be.

And he looked at her and smiled. There was nothing to think about now but her. She got back down to the floor and pulled the rest of his clothes off and crawled over his body, kissing him again, kissing his chest, and he felt her body against him and closed his eyes. She kissed his face again and pushed herself against him, and he could feel how wet she was.

She moved against him then and almost without both of them realizing what was happening, she moved up, over him, and he was inside her, and she gasped ...and his eyes opened ..looking at her...slightly in shock ...but more than that.

There were a few beats of silence as she searched his eyes - it seemed she was waiting for his okay..any sign it was all right...to move.

And still staring into her eyes, still on his back, his hands moved to her hips, over him, deep inside her, and grabbed them, hard, tightly. She knew then. And she moved.

Slowly, over him, she felt how hard he was inside her, and it was almost too much for her, too much to control how it felt, but then, she started to rock slightly, felt his hands tighten even more on her hips. She looked at the ceiling, biting her lip, and started to move up and down more, trying to stay slow, but it was hard, so hard, because she felt it rumbling inside her and knew..and his hands stroked and held her hips, and he watched her intently, feeling so hot and deep inside her, watching her body, looking really beautiful by the firelight, and he saw her face, and held on.

And still she tried to not go too fast, but it was getting harder, and he could see her fighting it, and didn't want her to.

"Go," he whispered, "go," and then she did, faster she moved on him, and it was really fucking unbelievable to feel it and watch her and it was really so good to feel her that wet and hot and up and down on him, faster she went and now she couldn't stop, and her hands went to her hair and pulled and her head went back and a shudder went through her and he felt it all the way through her, inside and out, still holding tightly to her hips, and now he sat up with her still grinding into his lap, pulled her to him, kissing her now, her mouth down on his, feeling her body, her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself and pushing herself up and down, riding him harder, and faster.

And with his mouth, with his tongue, he urged her on, it was so good and the faster she went the deeper their tongues were in each others mouths and her fingers dug into his shoulders now, drawing on his strength, and he pulled his mouth from hers and found her nipple with his tongue and sent her into a series of convulsive orgasms that were beyond erotic to watch, feel, hear and he was ready, so ready, especially as his mouth worked her nipple it made her movements faster, harder, faster, harder, rocking on him, wrapping herself tightly to him and then finally he came, his own fingers burning into her back and she felt it and did too. They wrapped tightly around each other still, together, unwilling yet to separate anywhere.

They were so close. So close.

And with her eyes closed and feeling him against and inside her, she knew from now on, all she wrote would be so much more real and true and finally that beautiful. Because now she knew. Knew what it was to be this close. And she did not ever want to let go.

"Anais, I don't know how to tell you what I feel. I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and the time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me...


I don't know what to expect of you, but it is something in the way of a miracle. I am going to demand everything of you - even the impossible, because you encourage it. You are really strong. I even like your deceit, your treachery. It seems aristocratic to me."

Letter from Henry Miller to Anais Nin – March 21, 1932

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