The Dangerous Look

What follows is part of a correspondence with my girlfriend that is currently studying abroad. This particular message describes a night of slipping between dreams and memories of her.

     Last night I was in bed watching my window.

The moon lit up the snow and the prayer flags were glowing faded blues and whites, but I was not in my room. I am on the Pacific Coast Highway, a ribbon embedded in a cliff - below, the grey and endless sea flirt with the rocks and sand. Above, the fog rests on the shoulders of the hills, green and just as endless. I don't have to look to know that you are close - or - wrapped in the quilt your aunt made, standing before me. The sea and wind howl, you turn back and look at me over your unexpectedly exposed shoulder. Your blonde hair is waving wildly and you give me the look.

     I turned away from the bright window and settle into the soft darkness on my left side, but I'm not in my bed.

I open the door with the screaming hinges and creep down the steps. The concrete is cold. I am deeply cold. Slowly, I nudge ajar the door to peek into our room. I don't want to disturb your sleep but I see you peaceful as a saint, your soft breaths audible in the darkness. You could be having a nightmare about me, as you sometimes do, and I slip in on the far side of the bed. I don't want to accidently touch you with my cold flesh and startle you from sleep. However without waking, you turn and kiss me on the shoulder.

     The memory of the shoulder kiss shakes me and transports me again; I am no longer in bed.

I am above you and the steam shower is hissing. Beads of sweat and water make pilgrimage across your forehead, tracing your brow that I find so insanely beautiful. There, kneeling, and the look you give me! You give me a steady gaze and a slow kiss, you place your hands on my thighs, lightly press your tongue into my hip. I watch the water cascade down my body and across your lips. Your skin is sticky and wet and your pink tongue is deliberating, taunting me across my stomach, mapping my hips. Your eyes are clear and blue and full of intention that makes me shiver and melt. You know what you do to me, tracing fingers against my brown skin, what a gorgeous contrast we make. The dangerous look in your eyes never leaves even as your lips part in a smile; you watch my penis become erect. The water makes little rivers across my cock to drip there at the end - into your approaching mouth. Those lips parting, the threat of teeth, the billowing steam, your unbroken gaze!

     Your lips are just barely around my cock.
 
You move slowly, so slowly, but at last! You gift me with that tongue that teased me. Warm and wet and firm and soft you press it into the head of my cock, lap at it slowly. I watch the inches disappear. You don't blink once and never look away. Your hands slip around my thighs and grab me from behind. You pull me in. I watch my cock disappear into your mouth, feel your molars, the back of your throat, your tongue, and unbearable pleasure. At last you blink and sigh and struggle to grin with my cock stuffing your mouth. I can hardly stand in the heat, but you make it harder. You move your head away and graze your teeth against me. Every shutter out of me elicits a smile and deepens that expression you have, the dangerous look. The desire. You're going to make me cum and you want me to know it. This is how you do me; the water running hot and steaming you're licking and sucking and smiling and sweating and moaning and swallowing until - every drop of cum is gone.

     I'm in bed dreaming of you, wanting you. I'm in bed, but I am not. I am in love with you.