Anticipation 2

I’m waiting for him in the swing on my patio, short dress, no bra or panties. His instructions on the bra, my own initiative on the panties. It’s warm, but I have a sunshade and there is the hint of a breeze tugging at my skirt, flirting with my warm, bared skin. Teasing me.

I fall alseep, anticipating.

Then he’s there, and we chat, and I am waiting, wondering when he will discover that I am bare beneath the dress. I stand next to him where he sits in one of the patio chairs. His hand slides up under my skirt and he looks up at me, grinning. I feel flustered suddenly.

Some temptress am I!

We go inside and Ad is there and we are talking and making salad and doing all the mundane things we do, and the whole time I am thinking about his hand sliding up, stroking the skin of my thigh, my ass, my hip. And I just want to be alone with him for a minute. “Come upstairs,” I say, tugging at his hand.

He follows, and I imagine his hands on me, under my dress, encircling my waist, pulling me close to him. He’s giving me this look he has…intent, focused, promising…something. I’m nervous now, more flustered. “Turn around,” he says, “Bend over the bed.”

I do, unsure what that intent look means. He has used implements on me now, has teased and provoked me sexually with hands and toys and words and mouth – this could be either. Or something new entirely.

He leans over me and flips my skirt up, exposing my bare ass to him. Suddenly exposed, I am absurdly shy and want to pull my skirt back down, and I can feel the heat traveling up my neck into my face. He places one hand on my back, stilling me. I go quiet under his hand, as I always do, settling down into the space between words, between moments. His breath is warm on the nape of my neck as I feel the barest caress of his fingertips tracing over my labia. Barely, barely touching; teasing. My breath comes short and quickens.

I don’t recall now what he says to me – it’s hazy and fluid like the feel of his fingertips brushing me ever so gently, tantalizing, building anticipation until the room is charged with it and I ache to feel his fingers inside of me. When I think I might go mad with it, he finally parts my lips and pushes a finger inside of me. “There,” he says, “right there,” and yes, he has found that spot inside and is rubbing it and I moan and push back against him —

Only to have him draw away, chuckling as he pulls me to my feet and sets my dress aright and says we should go back downstairs.

And I am left to anticipate what might come next for the rest of the evening.

Anticipation 1

“Touch yourself for me,” he said. “Trace your fingers where you wish mine would go, let them linger where you wish mine would be.”

I unzipped my jeans, right there in my office chair, and slid a hand down to the top of my lace-edged panties. Then I stopped. What I wanted was more than his fingers playing with my cunt. He has such long, almost delicate, fingers. They stroke my skin like a whisper, like a promise.

I raised my hands to my waist, to the sides of my ribcage. Stroked them up to the soft swell of my breasts, then across my nipples – yeah, those nipples that were already making themselves known by jutting against the fabric of my tank top. Then up to my face, along my throat and my jawline. My lips…

I want his fingers everywhere.

But I can’t reach everywhere – I can only anticipate his fingers roaming my body, stroking down my shoulders and my back, finding that perfect place and perfect pressure that stills all the noise inside me.

For now, I just send my fingers down, lower, inside the opening in my jeans, under my panties, tickling my clit for a moment before pushing between my labia and into the wet core of me.

Already slick.

I draw the wetness out and lave my lips with it, my clit. I think about another time of anticipation, when he lay between my legs, his mouth a breath away from my cunt, his breath warm, his tongue almost-but-not-quite touching me, until I told him what he wanted to hear.

I feel an almost painful anticipation that stretches on and on…a low hum that occasionally – when he permits – trandscends into a roar as he says “cum for me,” in my ear.

It’s Friday, it must be…

Boobday!

I know, lots more than just boobs, but seriously, check out those nips! I took this pic this morning to send to K to show off the juxtaposition of my pink-laced panties and the tomboy shirt. It was only when I got a good look at it that I saw how very perky my nipples are (should have been wearing my glasses – ha!) I wonder if he noticed!

Anyway, here they are, looking like they are celebating Boobday too.

Well, hello there!

I’m up early so the Linky tool isn’t live yet – will add the link when it is so you can go admire all the rest of the Boobday posts!

Collage

I already almost forgot to post today – that’s how out of practice I am! But I was saved by K, my…I don’t know what to call him, yet…reminding me to do so.

So what is this that K and I are doing? We’re seeing each other, and kind of more than “just” seeing each other; playing and gradually moving into something D/s-shaped; doing a lot of talking and texting and Marco Polos and having lots of sexy rainy mornings and stormy nights in my bed, as well as just hanging out and well, being relationship-y (I think that was his word).

We haven’t made any pronouncements about who we are to each other, either to ourselves or anyone else yet, though I think most in our crowd and families know we’re involved at least in some capacity. I’ve met one of his daughters and he’s met Adam (and Fee) and in fact we – Adam, he and I – have all spent time together, doing dinner and drinks and going to a movie and playing games. (I might tell y’all a bit about the one night the game involved whacky toys and my bum one of these days.) But meanwhile, yeah…there’s someone new and he’s occupying an awful lot of my thoughts.

The D/s that we’re exploring the edges of comes very naturally – at least from where I sit. He said at the outset that it’s not a role he has played for a while, at least not in the way that I am used to, and wasn’t sure he wanted to, but ultimately decided that it is something he is willing to explore with me, to see where it goes. It is going very, very well, as far as I can tell. He is being cautious, and talks about not rushing in, and about doing things in a sustainable way; about managing the NRE that we are both pretty much awash in. Of course I am my usual diving-in-head-first, check-for-rocks-beneath-the-surface later kinda gal where my heart’s concerned. Yeah I could get my head (heart) smashed on the rocks, but damn that dive is glorious, isn’t it? And I can’t help but be me. If I feel a thing…

Well. There we are.

So anyway. Thought I’d share that little bit about this new part of my world, and also this collage I made, mostly to show off how long my hair is, and also because I feel…sexy and sensuous and desirable these days, and these images reflect those feelings. And I simply adore that Ad took the hair picture of me so that I could send it to K.

Feral

How sweet, he says.
But no…

I am claws and teeth and sharp, aching need
Howls and snarls
Desire, made manifest.

Wet and panting and wanting, wanting, wanting.
No sweet kitten
No purring pet.

Panties in the corner
Legs spread wide
Fingers deep in my wet, wet cunt.

His words on the screen
a voice in my head
A growl
A demand
Teeth sharp against a bared throat.

A whispered word
A gentling hand
Breath caught and held
Command given and taken.

Guided back to quiesence once more.


Better Late Than Never

I know I’m jumping in late, but I’ve been a little distracted and so didn’t realize that June had started. Er, okay, not exactly that, but that Every Damn Day in June had started. More specifically yet, that Molly of Molly’s Daily Kiss had taken over the meme from the delectable Hyacinth Jones of A Dissolute Life Means…

I’ve done this meme before, and enjoyed it. The goal: to post something every damn day in June. Writings, pictures, whatever. Okay, I have failed already, but that only releases me from striving for perfection, right? So now it’s “Every Damn Day…for the Rest of the Days in June.” Hah.

I actually have lots to say. Stuff about parents and my kids, Adam and work and a new relationship. Life stuff, kink stuff, sexy stuff, travel and play stuff. So stayed tuned, and I will try my damndest to post something. Every damn day. Just like it says.

Cozy Day

Friday is Boobday, and though you can’t see much of mine, I’m happy with them today. I feel sexy in a warm, quiet way, sitting on my couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blankie, my hair mussed and wild, listening to the thunder and the rain outside. It’s lunch time and I am working from home, so that means a nap after reading for a bit. I used to feel guilty when I napped at lunch – there’s so many things I should be doing! – but I don’t. At least not much. Who said we have to be productive every minute of every damn day? Sometimes … I just want to nap in the middle of the day.

Friday is Boobday

I haven’t participated much in this meme of late (well, any meme, really) but I felt like posting something – without knowing what – until I saw it, and remembered how pleased I’d felt looking at my breasts this morning. My weight swings wildly about 15 lbs. either way, and when it’s 15 up, it shows first in my boobs. So, though I don’t like those extra 15 lbs., I do like my breasts during that time.

BoobDay is a weekly meme in honour of chests and breasts of all shapes and sizes belonging to all types of folks.