69 Minutes

This is my seventh contribution to:

The 750 Word Project 2024

The minutes spent this way. The most precious minutes of all.

Stroking. Embracing. Clothes peeled. Naked flesh exposed. Hands touching. Gripping. Squeezing. Bodily rhythms quickening. Preparing. Then falling. Falling onto coiled springs, clad in cottony softness. Together. Never closer. Aligning. Head to toe. Opening possibilities of pleasure. Spreading limbs. Baring souls. Trusting. Allowing unfettered access.

Kissing. Four mouths. Two tongues. Still kissing. Lips to lips. Irriguous aperture matching irriguous aperture. Touch and detach. Touch and detach. Lips linked by glistening mucosal secretions. Cheeks pillowed on soft, warm adductors. Lost. Lost in a world of taste and smell and texture and murmured sound. Lost in the other. Lost so deeply in the other. Who would ever crave an exit from so sweet and sensual a maze?

You now shifting. Trembling. A pressing hand on my head. My urgency matching your growing need. Squirming now as I lap quicker. Finger-tips now also dancing. Making you shudder and tense, shudder and tense. Your groans heavy against my flesh. Then grasping me so tight, as the wave hits you, lifting both our bodies in the swell. Gifting me your flowing honey as you lose control.

Then slowly the tremors abate. Now it is me who feels the aftershocks of your quake. Insistent intimate intrusions. A thumb strategically placed to take my breath away. And suddenly, I'm ascending. Carried relentlessly upwards towards the apex. Your humming motor drives my train to an exquisite inflection of excitement. The rollercoaster crests, hangs motionless for an instant, then fails to defy gravity, and plummets. And I scream. Of course I scream.

Levering. Untangling. Sitting upright. Finding each other. Tongues meet, coated in beauteous balm. Wet lips press together. Panting punctuating the passion of kisses. And holding. Holding so close. Skin on sweat-covered skin. Deep, recuperative breathing. Our lips brush again and our eyes meet. Understanding is exchanged. Deep desires are not yet sated. The flames flicker anew.

I roll you, and you yield gleefully to my slight momentum. Each giggling. Each anticipating. Me atop. You beneath. My hands clasped round thighs. Parting, making space. My loins now lowered to your waiting face. I'm peeling back rose petals. Pupils dilating at the sight of your inner world. Inhaling your sweet perfume. Aromatic perfume that makes my head spin. Makes my body pulse. Then diving into your warm, welcoming pool. Muscles elongated and stiffened. Forming an aquiline intruder. All the better to probe you with. Reciprocation makes me sigh and clench. I surrender my nethermost viscera to you too. Willingly, achingly.

I break the surface, gasping for air, moisture-covered. Then a new unfurling, of a proud, pink protuberance. A power plant. An electricity generator. And my tongue kickstarts the dynamo. I make contact and you buck upwards. Involuntary spasms overwhelm conscious motions. Again you follow my lead and I push down to meet your tongue's eager explorations. Like that. Oh, like that! I need a moment. Eyes closed, lower lip bitten, for just a second, as I adjust, as I accept, as I welcome the satisfying stimulus. Then back to you. Giving as good as I get.

We are racing. A sprint to the finish. Hearts pounding, lungs heaving. I pull ahead. But you are with me still. Now dextrous digital delving augments my fevered flicking. I squeal as your finger probes my lower tightness. Breath half caught then on again. Urging your body towards orgiastic oblivion.

The line is in sight, we redouble our fervid efforts. I mount a rise, then pull you after me. You climb next, I follow. Our pirouetting pleasure intertwines and we ascend together. Heat spreading. Shared sensations intensifying. One writhing being now, connected by a joint objective. So close now. Hands link and we break the tape in joyous, throbbing unison. Explosions of light and sound pounding our conjoined bodies. Elevating us to a shared realm of warmth and sensuality. Of sapphic harmony and oneness.

Calming. Descending. Following a dream-like path hand in hand. Breath on skin. Faces bathed in sweet, sticky emissions. Tongue lapping cream cat-like. Eyes closed, smiles of satiation. Then turning. Face to face. Soft kisses. Shared emotions. Then joint collapse. Lying on backs, ribs rising and falling in spent exhaustion.

No need for words. What words could exceed the elegant language of action? I love you shown, not said. I need you felt, not articulated. You are mine, resonating in electricity through every enervated fiber. The holiest sacrament co-celebrated.

The minutes spent this way. The most precious minutes of all.