Sweet Women: Marsh

We hugged, kissed each other tenderly. Our legs tangled, our hands discovered. The way I purred when she stroked my spine; the way she moaned lowly when I raked my nails up her thigh. Her mouth becoming more sweetly urgent as her tongue swept into me. My callused tip fingers rubbing on her nipples until her lips trembled and her body shook.

I rolled her over onto her back and half laid on her. My face went to her breasts, caressing her with my cheeks before I captured one luscious nipple with my mouth – there is anything more wonderful than the taste of a new lover?

My hands roamed over her as teasingly tortured her nipple; I felt her hard muscles underneath satiny skin – it was an intoxicating mix. I slowly drifted fingertips on the curve of her stomach; hearing her sharp inhale. I cupped her wet mound with my palm; my heart skipped a beat at how sopping she was. She covered my hand with her hand; guiding me, showing me how she wanted me to touch her, to slip fingers in while my palm rubbed side to side over her – my moan echoed over hers – there's hardly anything more erotic than a woman saying, showing, what she wanted, how she wanted.

Marsh's breast rose and fell faster underneath my mouth as she started panting, breathless urgent gasps. She pressed her heavy thighs together, squeezing my fingers as they slipped in and out, a faster and faster glissando of hot pleasure – for her and for me. Almost incoherent mumbling: Yes... there...fuck yes...please...oh fuck yes!

She stiffened and fell silent, but her body rose up a song...

After some moments, a happy eternity, she half chuckled, half growled, "You are nimble-fingered."

"Yeah," I drawled, "I'm the Segovia of pussy. My 'apoyando" is famous among dyke aficionados."

Marsh touched the necklace still around my throat, "That was crass for a lady wearing pearls."

I leaned over and kissed her, "I didn't mean to be a mood spoiler."

Her palm rested on my face as she smiled and said, "You didn't, you would never be. Would you like to share a joint?"

Laughing, I replied, "Usually I'm offered a toke as an aperitif – but sure."

She laughed with me and said with a glint in her eyes, "We can have it a sherbet, to clear the palate before the next course." She rolled over and opened a drawer from her side table, taking out an ashtray, a gold lighter, and a perfectly shaped short joint. As she knelt on the bed and light up, I sat up, cross legged, in front of her. She inhaled once deeply and passed it to me. I looked at her face for a second; her eyes closed, her square chin with a tiny cleft tilted up. I'd seen that face furrowed with concentration when she was with a patient; seen it stony when she was dealing with some idiocy; seen it unexpectedly shy and embarrassed; seen it tautly grimacing and then opening up like a flower when she came. A good face, a face that pleased me more than I would have thought.

As we smoked we talked a little. She asked what apoyando meant; I told her that it was using a finger to strike a string more downward, letting the finger rest on the next string after a stroke. I asked about Simone's odd smiles at me; she said that they were friends and Simone had tried to matchmake her – I chuckled and told her about David and his attempts. She brushed her knuckles very gently over my nipples and told me how sexy I was – that along with swift buzz I had, made me shiver and say lowly, "Tell me about your Venus..."

"My what?" She glanced over to where I pointed, "Oh that. I bought in Amsterdam a few years ago – did you know you get the best Indonesian food in Holland?"

I wasn't interested in food. "She's beautiful."

Marsh caught my tone. The ravenous cast of her eyes made me shiver. I prefer duets, sonatas of body and heart, but there are times when a woman playing her special melody on, in my body can be exhilarating. Without a word, she got up and brought the figurine back to the bed. She held in one hand and caressed it with her fingers, running slowly over the ribbed curves and bumps – I was mesmerized and tingling flowed from the tips of my breasts to pool in my belly. She leaned over to me and kissed my mouth tenderly, and said on my quivering lips, "Lay down darling."

I unfolded my legs and laid back on the bed. Marsh knelt between my thighs and lowered her head. I thought to myself as I gazed at her bowed form that I should tell her how beautiful her back was. Any desire to speak flew away as I felt her tongue slowly, sinuously trail down the middle of me. She licked and slipped and dipped her mouth over and over until my hands were clutching on the sheets and my body writhed in unconscious rhythm with her.

She straightened up and her strong hands lifted my hips from the mattress and rested me on her thighs. Fingers smoothly followed where lips had been. I was intoxicated – by the smoke, by her. I was aching to be filled – by the Venus, by her. She knew, she knew... She eased herself into me, inch by incredible inch, the coiffed head, shoulders that widened me, bumps of breasts that made me moan, hips widening me further; that wonderful fullness entering me until she was embedded in me deeply, her fingers holding the Venus, resting on my quivering flesh.

Fine circles within me, spirals that fed my pulsating, vibrating need. She began to croon, "Yes darling, give yourself to me...give...give."

My hips rose, tipped up have her more and more. To have her deep within my folds. To be rocked by her into ecstasy. To have her. She delved deeper into me with each rhythmic push – the sensation, the image of that Venus in me, more than a surrogate of woman, a melding of icon and person; wood becoming flesh, becoming joined, becoming one.

She read my body: How my back arched, how my hips moved in cadence with her, my increasing whimpers. And she began to thrust harder and deeper – pulling back until she was barely inside me and then twisting, plunging. And I entered that magical place, not a bell ringing, but a chorus singing, singing her name.

Her eyes were glazed; there were tears on her cheeks. Not sadness, not at all. My stomach quivered. To be so happy that you have made someone else happy, that won me. I slid off her thighs, the passing of the dill making me me groan a little, and bent my finger at her. She grinned at my gesture (it became one "our" things) and climbed over me; like ivy seeking the sun.

My hands on her shoulders, I kissed her. A kiss that started out slow and tender and became urgent, demanding. I bit her bottom lip and breathed my hunger in her mouth, "Straddle me baby."

Sometimes you know just the right thing to say. Marsh groaned deeply and moved up as I slid down her. She was the tropics on my face: Warm, wet, spicy, silky. I dove into her as if I were diving into the ocean. I wanted to make love to her, make her happy, make her mewl. I used my mouth the way she had guided my fingers; rolling my fluttering tongue sideways across her, rubbing my nose on her pearl, sinking into her womb that was so surprisingly, delightfully tight. My nails raked along her thighs, on her buttocks.

I kept an measured, insistent rhythm on her. She melted, moving against me, hot, wet, abandoned. Sobbing my name, begging, "please...please..."

It was hard, so hard, but I stayed with my deliberate caresses; not going faster or slower, but steady beats to a bar. A music that drove her wild, took her to the highest note and held her there until it became a vibrating ecstasy that possessed her, took her blindingly into release.

We stayed like that for minutes; my lips quiet on her, feeling the faint echoes of her climax on my lips. Then, with the happiest of sighs, Marsh slid off me and we curled into each other, murmuring softs sounds that lullabied us to sleep.

I came out of the bathroom in the morning, a towel around my hair, a towel like a sarong around my hips, and found my purse. Marsh was busily scrambling eggs with green onions for us. I sat on the stool of her kitchen counter and took out a $10. I placed it beside her cup of coffee, and took a sip from my cup.

She glanced over her shoulder, saying, "Great timing darling, one more minute," and seeing the bill, said, "What is that for?"

I looked at at her calmly, steadily. "My down payment on my bid for you."

She said very slowly, "Only ten?"

"Ten times ten times ten, time love..."

Smiles can light up a room, light up a life. Hers did.