Moonlight Confessions

She began retiring in the nude with the hopes of arousing her lover in the midst of a midnight waking moment. Recently, this did not appear successful.

After turning in one evening, alone and much later than usual, she relaxed beneath the cotton linens and gazed peacefully out of the partly opened window at the moon as it grew nearer to its pinnacle in the sky. With erotic thoughts of fancy filling her mind, she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Long after sleep had claimed its newest victim of the evening, a fifty-something breeze blew in through the window. Even beneath the sheet, she felt its chill. Her initial reaction was simply to curl up unto herself and resist the cold. Her own body heat was unhindered between her skin and the sheet. It was a sensation that fueled her dreams that night.

Later in the evening, the stubborn, and by now much cooler, breeze blew in through the window, making the blind’s cord dance wildly. She felt the breeze once again, but instead of shunning it and retreating within herself, she welcomed it by stretching and baring herself to the wind and the room around her. The sheet had by now twisted away from her skin and the wonderful warmth that she had been comforted by was a memory. The forty-something breeze reached out and pinched her dark brown nipples making them rise.

Through the cold, she felt a certain warmth stirring from within her. Stretching her hand to where her lover should be, she found the sheets undisturbed and cool to the touch. A delicate sigh escaped her lips as she thought of all they could have done together this evening. Thoughts that made the warmth within her flare. Thoughts that, without having her lover near, made her feel so alone and undesired. In the darkness, with her mind still vividly imagining her lovers touch, she began to caress her own silken skin. Brushing the auburn curls back from her face, locks of her hair cascaded over her shoulder and teased the sensitive skin it rested upon. Her hands cupped her face, imagining the actions of her lover. A hand slid down to tenderly stroke her breast, which no longer needed tenderness but action.

From within her sleep clouded mind a voice called to her. It spoke the language of her desires, of her lust, of her fantasies. In the past, she shunned such thoughts and ignored the voice. It was evil. It was wrong. It was frighteningly sexual. Tonight, she welcomed it with loins responding in the like.

With the vividness of a fond memory, she felt warmth once again. A corner near her bed fell deeper into the shadows with one shadow suddenly nearer than a moment ago. Until finally she knew she was no longer alone and she was no longer dreaming. She felt hands exploring just as her hands began to explore. She felt the heat of his breath, as her own breathing increased. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered her name, over and over again. Each time she felt more resistance draining away. Until she was responding without thought but by instinct and desire. His every touch sending her further into the throes of her fantasy.

She felt her own moistness and guided him to it. Without a word he touched her. A gasp escaped her lips as his finger glided over her smoothness and parted her silken flesh. She felt his lips touch her adroitly and with a prowess that amazed her. His tongue pressed further until it found the heart of her femininity.

In the moonlight filtering through the window she guided him to her, taking his smooth hardness into her mouth. She felt his tongue stiffen and pause for a moment, almost as she had stiffened beneath his initial intimate touch. She fought the predilection to avoid this. Tonight, she was enjoying his presence and exploring her own desires. Her hand caressed him, softly distributing the moisture from her lips and tongue. His breathing quickened, as did her pace. With a succinct pucker he kissed her, talking her softly within his mouth but for a moment. Fighting off waves that she was not prepared to swim through, she moaned softly into him. She enveloped him further until there was no room left. His tongue penetrated her with a heat that seared her until, as if choreographed in the stars, they separated.

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered, in a pained voice rich with desire. Being so direct was not of her forte. He frequently mused aloud that assertiveness would be of great benefit to her.

“I need you to touch me,” she begged in a voice that sounded on the brink of tears. Tonight it nearly killed her not only to turn such private thoughts into spoken words but also to have the opportunity to share them with him.

“Je t’aime. Je t’aime avec tout mon coeur.” He whispered to her crying heart.

As his lips touched hers, the moonlight illuminated a tear that fell down her cheek. The words she had waited to hear finally spoken. Her heart was at peace.

She shared herself with him unabashed for the first time.