Wilmington Breeze

(This was a message to a pen-pal from many years ago, after she had suddenly moved to the coast.)

***

Drifting off, eyelids heavy. Sleep approaches. Shoulders and hips sinking deep into the mattress. Wind picks up outside. I hear TV weatherman saying it's going to be breezy tomorrow in Wilmington. Mini-blinds over bedroom window rattle. I'm sailing away...

The curtains in your bedroom window billow softly in the Wilmington breeze. Like some weird incarnation of Peter Pan, my bare feet come softly to rest on your hardwood floors. You're sitting on the side of the bed - just about in the middle, your long legs crossed at the knee - and you look up at me with a bright, accomplished smile. You've just lit the last of about 30 candles. The room literally flickers in anticipation of what's ahead.

I move to stand to your right, between you and the head of the bed. Your shoulders are square, your hands are resting softly in your lap. Your smile follows me as I approach, and now you are looking up at me. Seconds pass as we gaze wordlessly at each other, each determining the pace of the impending connection. An unspoken message is sent and received: Let's take it slow.

My right hand reaches out. The tips of my fingers lightly touch your cheek. It is warm... alive... electric. You close your eyes as my fingers move around your cheek... across your chin... over your brow... before returning to linger, just barely touching your lips. The line between them parts as your pounding heart forces you to take a gasp of air. My fingers pause and the tip of your tongue reaches out to moisten my middle finger. The saliva is cool against my hot skin, and I then lightly stroke my moistened finger over your lower lip.

Then the tactile tour continues. Both of my hands are now cupping your jaw, curling around the back of your head, running through your hair, passing lightly over your ears. Your head tilts and moves along with my hands in a steady, silent swoon. My heart is now pounding to match yours, and I can't help but pull you forward toward my upper abdomen. It's an awkward hug, but you compensate by rubbing your cheek against my T-shirt and turning your head to kiss my stomach through the soft fabric.

Your hands now move from your lap and reach out to rest on my hips. You direct me to your left, and in the process you uncross your legs and guide mine to form a sandwich of your left one. Our hands linger in their positions; mine cupping your head and stroking your hair, yours resting against my hips. But with just a beat I feel you pressing my hips downward toward the floor. I follow the motion, continuing to hold your head in my hands. You reveal your strategy by tilting your chin toward the ceiling precisely as my nose and mouth approach yours. And we pause, perfectly poised for a kiss.

Our noses are side-by-side, blowing warm exhales against the lips and cheeks of the other. We pause for a few seconds... five?, seven?, nine?... waiting to see who will make the first move. Your lips part first, and the kiss begins.

A slight twist of the head and our lips brush together. There's no pucker or smack or perceivable end to the motion of this kiss. Another brush, punctuated by a lick of your own lips, then a lick of mine. Now more moist, and another brush... this one punctuated by a linger... a twist of the head... a soft and gentle churn of lips against another.

Kisses have been described as a speedometer of action, and a barometer of passion. Our kisses are like a car idling at neutral at the first of a series of hills. Once the kiss begins the car begins to roll... slowly at first, but then gaining speed and intensity before passing the bottom and slowing up the next rise. Another position, another experiment in technique, and the car begins to roll again down the next, steeper incline. Gaining more speed... hearts racing faster... roller-coastering to the next incline... the next pause before it all starts again.

I am now enthralled at the wet, soft, warm caresses of your lips against mine. I draw your upper lip between my own with a slight sucking motion. I lightly bite on your lower lip, pulling it down a little bit. As I release it, you let it drag back up over my lower lip, exhaling hot breath over my face before you parry the pas de deux with licks from your tongue, nibbles from your teeth. Our breath is racing... our hearts are pounding.

My right hand moves from the side of your head to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and keeping the connection going. My left hand drops to adjust the odd angle at which my penis is caught inside my boxers. At that action, our wrists touch and your right hand captures my left. You begin to softly intertwine your fingers with mine, adding a whole other tactile level to the kiss.

I have been bent in an awkward half-lean and I need to change positions. I choose to sink completely to my knees. This motion reverses the respective inclines of our heads, necks, and faces. You are now in the dominant stance... your face over mine. And you start to influence the pace and direction of our encounter.

The tongue is perhaps the most erotic instrument ever created by the Gods of Passion. And you begin to show me how you have been an apt pupil of their teachings. In your now-dominant position, you begin to explore. You begin to taste. To tickle. To probe. A flick of tongue against lip. A trace of a line across my upper teeth. A parry into my mouth to tease my tongue... then right back out again, lest the passion build too quickly. My only defense is to periodically break our kiss and focus on your jaw... then your neck... then your collarbone. But that marvelous tongue always brings me back.

But as noted before, kisses are also the barometer of passion. And our exercise thus far has brewed up the makings of one incredible storm.

On my knees before you, I am at a decided disadvantage; my angles are all askew. So, my creaking back now rested, I rise up to my feet and put my hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you backwards onto the bed. I move my hands up your sides and up your arms, gently holding your hands over your head. And now I go to work... on you.

Kisses on mouth. Ears. Cheeks. Jaw. Neck. Nibbles and nips around and behind your most sensitive places. My left hand holds both of yours in position over your head, and my right one moves to find your breasts. Softly cupping the tender tissue... quietly kneading... a slow squeeze, a soft release. Your nipples are pebbles against the grain of your tiny-strapped 'T'. I move my hand to the bottom of it and slide back up within... skin against skin. Back to your breast to softly roll the nipple between my fingers...then to nibble it lightly, through the fabric, between my teeth... your back arches and your breath races. I release your hands and they run wildly around my hair... down my back... grasping my T-shirt to pull it over my head.

I stop to allow that, then lift your 'T' up and over your shoulders, head, and arms. And now, both topless... we pause...

The candles flicker with a rich golden glow. They reflect in your eyes. They glisten off of your teeth and your come-hither smile. They give a soft, warm, pulsating pattern to the naked sites before us. Our eyes are taking it all in. Our chests are heaving. The whole room seems to pulsate with desire. But this is a now-or-never moment. We stand balanced on the fulcrum of turning back, or forging ahead. We're paused in the matrix of the next decision that we'll make... expectant yet unsure... delirious with both anticipation and anxiety. I'm staring down at you lying half-on and half-off the bed. You meet my gaze, then glance at the candles - which seem to suddenly flare a little brighter - and then at the curtains - which softly but intently billow inward with the onset of a new, stronger breeze. And I feel an unseen force carrying me forward... into my desire... into my destiny.

I move to a side-saddle position just to your right, as you skootch slightly to your left to a position a little more elongated on the bed. Your eyes look teasingly into mine and your mouth cocks into a little grin as if to say "Well?..." I consider it an invitation.

The back of my fingers lightly graze your cheek. A kiss determines the RPM of your passion; your lips and mouth are soft... expectant... inviting. Your motor is revving. It's time to let the horses run.

I move my mouth from your lips to your jaw to your neck. I linger there to feel the tingle that causes your neck to pivot toward me and your back to arch. It's a selfish indulgence... I like knowing the effect it will have on you. The candles flicker as your engine revs a little higher. But my target is elsewhere... a little further south. And I move my mouth to your breasts and to your hard and inviting nipples. You're not the only one who has studied the Gods of Passion, and I focus for a few minutes on seeing exactly how many nerve endings I can get to fire at once. Kisses around and particularly under the supple flesh of your breasts. A soft lick around the areola, followed by a kiss and a slight suction. Next, I place your erect nipple between my upper teeth on top and my tongue on the bottom and roll my tongue softly, then firmly, then softly again around the nipple I hold captive there. That seems to have a particularly pleasing effect as your rock your head quickly from one side to the other side and I feel a hot breath rush through you and out of you. A quick and quiet moan punctuates your passion. Releasing my mouth, I lightly rub my fingers over your nipple while I coat your breast with hot breath that also cools the saliva. The contrast gives you another cause to squirm with pleasure.

Now my mouth is back at work, but my right hand has decided to wander. Down your side, across your lower abdomen, aiming for the waistband of your shorts. I'm carefully aware of resistance; is this a welcome advance or something that crosses a line of vulnerability. As my hand moves toward your heavenly "Y", I feel in you a wonderful blend of anticipation and relaxation... punctuated by a gentle shift in the position of your legs. You are opening your treasures to me... and I can't help but feel a chill of excitement at what I am being invited to find there.

It is an exercise in advances and retreats. Still outside your shorts, my hand slowly moves down and around your hips, across your precious spot, and along the inside of your thighs. Then a repeat in a slightly different pattern. On one particular circuit, my middle finger dips a little deeper within the "Y" and I'm delightfully surprised to feel the finger-pad-sized spot of moisture that suddenly saturates the soft fabric. My hand slides up to the top of your waistband, slips inside, and returns down to explore more of your wonderful wetness.

You writhe a little at my returning approach, which serves to open your mound to my probing fingers. I am very careful to make this parry gentle - your sensitive slit is a treasure to be explored gingerly. I begin at the outside... gently stroking your larger lips as they swell with passion. I carefully move inward... tracing a slight line along the inner folds - where your wetness is most apparent... now pressing along the line a little harder... now squeezing the lips together between my moist fingers and letting your natural lubrication ease the journey from front to back. The next circuit serves to spread the luscious lips apart again. And when I get to the top I curl my middle finger toward the bed and slip it within you... slow and deep. The action causes you to arch your back in a sudden shudder. I relish your gasp and notice that the curtains suddenly billow inward.

My middle finger is now completely coated in your juices, and I withdraw it gently and travel slightly upward, between your glistening folds, until I arrive at your soft and swollen button. I hover there, barely making contact, while you shudder again and your hips hitch in a quiet spasm of anticipation. I am carefully watching your face. Your eyes are closed and your lids and brow contract in response to my gentle prods and probes. It is a road map to your building passion, and I follow every twist and turn with studious awe.

My finger drops softly down to make contact with your now-unhooded clitoris. Small circles... first one way, then the other. Tiny back and forth strokes. A parry away and back to your slit, then a return to the target to begin another pattern. Your face tells the story... your body ripples and writhes... your breath races in and out of your nostrils. And as your thighs clench... as your abdomen pulses... as your back arches slightly... as your quiet moan escapes through your clenched lips... a strong breeze ripples the curtains and flickers the light in the room with a building, golden glow.

Your body pulses four... five... six... times, each accompanied by a quiet gasping "ah". My hand remains at its station, inside the waistband of your shorts... carefully petting in broad, long strokes as your orgasm eases. The billowing curtains relax and the breeze subsides. But I'm eager to give you a second gift. And I swiftly slide your shorts down over your thighs, your knees, and down to the floor. And I move my body to lie alongside of yours... head to toe.

My intentions are not a secret, but in fact seem to be the exact answer to your unspoken carnal wish in that precise moment. You spread your legs widely. And I eagerly dive in.

Your body is warm... your mound is already pulsed and vibrant from my massage. I begin with kisses along your thighs... above and below your full, wet lips and your clit. Kisses lead to a series of licks with my tongue. First fast and flickering, then long and languorous. Then a return to the former. A pause so I can catch my breath, following by a hot exhale of air which - like before - simultaneously heats your skin and cools the saliva and moisture that's abundant there. Now I'm licking again. Kissing your slit and sliding my tongue fully along its length. Sucking on your hot button while I simultaneously flick the hard tip of my tongue rapidly over its rise. Another pause to breathe and to listen to what your body is telling me. I realize that your initial orgasm was just a prelude, and that you're actually at a plateau between peaks. (My god... what a treasure!... a multi-orgasmic woman!) Your hips are rolling... your legs are pumping... your breath races... your hands fly to my head and off again - then repeating - as you revel in the glorious attention being lavished upon your womanhood.

Before I resume, I moisten my middle finger. Then as I continue to suck and flicker my tongue against your clit, I slip quickly inside you and curl my finger back to find your G-spot. It's already aroused and I carefully slide my finger up one side and down the other, then hover over the center with soft, supple pressure. You are pleasantly surprised by the added stimulation, yet simultaneously unaware of exactly what I am doing. You manage to tell me that, but implore me not to stop. So I continue. Licking... sucking... sliding my finger over and around your inner mound. The combination quickly pushes you to another peak, and I almost have to hang on to ride your undulating hips and abdomen. This orgasm is longer than the first... deeper... more forceful. Your quick moans from before have now become extended "uuhhhss" of pleasure, interspersed with two or three quick inhales/exhales, a whispered exclamation, then another contraction... another spasm of passion. I can feel the sexual energy flowing through the both of us. And I am spent by the activity, but simultaneously - and fully - aroused.

As your second orgasm begins to fade I notice that the room is perceptibly brighter from the candles' glow, and that the curtains have once again billowed in the building breeze. Two orgasms... two times the candle light has blossomed... two times the curtains have been stirred by the winds. The coincidence pings quietly in the back of my mind, but before I can focus on the thought you reach for my erection and I'm drawn back to the splendor of you.

I rise up so I'm sitting on my heels to your right. Your right hand is quietly stroking me... coaxing me to you. Your face is flushed, and your run your hand through your hair as your breath begins to return to normal. I bend to kiss you and feel your passion swell again as you take in the musky mixture of our combined passion. Your lips are full, your mouth is soft and open, yet your return my kiss with an intensity fueled by a continuing fire in your sexual soul. The kiss breaks, and I shift to my right as you center your self on the bed. Knees bent, feet flat, hips open... and your gently guide me to your still-pulsating target.

After all that's preceded I slide almost instantly inside you to the hilt of my loins. And it's an incredible combination of heat, softness, smoothness, and... well, lubrication... that is instantaneously welcoming... stimulating... erotic. It's tight. It's hot. It's wet. It's vibrating on a nearly-subconscious level. It's absolutely heavenly.

But I'm continuing to focus on you. Now crouched above you, supported by my arms, I look into your eyes as I slowly move out... then in... then out... then in. I hold and grind my pelvis into yours in a slow gyration that teases your clit and causes you to close your eyes and meet my motions. I move my arms down and link my elbows with the inside of your knees, then pull your legs up so your calves are in a more horizontal position. This adjusts the angle so I'm pumping against your clit and a deeper section of your love tunnel. Out again... then in... then out... then in... Your passion is building and your hands move to hold my hips.

My passion is building as well and I put your legs on my shoulders and return to support myself on my arms. But now I rotate my angle upward toward the top of the bed. This pushes your legs almost flat against your body and puts the upper surface of my penis in direct contact with your clitoris. We are both flushed with your juices, and the combination of heat and moisture, lubrication and friction are bringing us both to the threshold of ecstacy. I close my eyes as I feel my own orgasm beginning to crest along with yours. Together, we cry out in five, six, seven, eight, pulses of passion... each punctuated with a driving of my penis as deep as I possibly can into your pulsating canal.

I feel the sea air on my face this time, and I open my eyes to see the curtains billowing once again. My gaze shifts to your face below me as we slide slowly down the curve of our common ecstasy. You shift your glance from the slowing-relaxing curtains to my eyes, and you smile. You close your eyes and issue an exhausted sigh. You open them again and pull my head down to your lips for a deep and luscious kiss. I allow my arms to relax and I rest against your chest, head over your shoulder, feeling your slow and deep breaths move in and out, in and out. My eyes close and the spent feeling lulls me into a light sleep.

When I awake the mini-blinds are "tink-tinking" against the window frame. I am in a different place than just a moment ago. The translocation has been sudden, instant... and combined with the feeling of ecstatic release, renders me briefly unsure of where I am... or where I've been. But the fog of sleep quickly clears, and I realize I'm at home... in my own bed. I feel spent.

The phone on my night stand buzzes twice; a signal of an incoming message. I turn the contraption on and smile at the news... it's a message from a favorite sender. I click on the appropriate line and feel a delightful twinge of anticipation in the message it reveals.

"The weatherman says it's going to be breezy in Wilmington today..."