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Archive-name: SpecMome/dreamy2.txt


Archive-title: Dreamy...  2

     Lying here on the floor in front of the fire, I delight

     in how content and truly happy I am.  The crisp, clear

     fall weather, just cool enough for the fire, helps

     heighten my own thoughts.  Our mountain retreat -how

     wise of you to decide we needed this special place.

     Through the windows, I can see the small mountain lake,

     the moonbeams dancing on the waters.  The firelight

     creating a warm glow in the room.  Peace.  Serenity.


          You, sitting in that large, leather chair - your

     chair - just a few feet away.  Strange.  The seclusion

     of the cabin offers us such solitude -and yet we are

     together.  You are the only person I have ever known

     with whom I can be alone while with you.  With each

     other we have privacy but yet companionship.  The soft

     music of Chopin wafts through the room.  I can barely

     hear your pen scratching on the paper as you write.  How

     I enjoy watching you write.  Your face mimics each word.

     Sometimes I wonder if you realize just how much you

     convey when you write.  The expressions on your face

     tell the story --the small frown when the line is not

     just right; the soft smile when suddenly all the words

     just appear on the paper.

          You glance up, and catch me watching you.  Oh.

     When you smile at me that way!  How I wish you could

     know the stirrings you create. I smile back, and pretend

     to get interested in my book again.  Your poem is not

     complete.  The time is not now for my desires to take

     form.  Later.  Meanwhile, the fire can warm me as my

     senses just contemplate our loving.  And we will.

     Later.  When the last word is written.  When you have

     chosen to share your poem with me.  Even that has become

     almost a form of fore-play between us.

          I become aware that I have turned many pages.  What

     were the words on those pages?  Do I care?  My eyes were

     seeing, but my mind was not reading.  Instead, it was

     dwelling on you.  How satisfied I am with you; with us;

     with myself.  With you, I never fear.  We have been

     together long enough now to know each other.  Our flaws

     are exposed to the other, but we accept what we have

     found in the other, the good, the not-so-good; the

     perfections, the imperfections. From you I need hide

     nothing.  You accept the woman you find.  That sense of

     freedom being an aphrodisiac to me.

          My mind strays.  Remembering the years that have

     gone before this moment.  Pain.  Sadness.  Some spots of

     joy.  You know what the memories are.  But rather than

     trying to make me forget, you have encouraged the

     memories - embraced them even.  Reminding me that

     whatever is there is part of what has made me what I am

     today. Since you love the woman I am now, the memories

     that helped form that being are good also.  And, I think

     of you.  You also brought a past to our new love.


     As you have learned to love me and the memories, so have

     I you.  Whatever helped make you into the man you are

     tonight must have been good, because the man you are

     now is so special and warm.  The flooding of sensations

     through my body reminds me just how much I delight in


          Longing.  Now my body craves to give physical

     meaning to the love I feel.  I want you.  I want to be

     in your arms.  My skin yearns for your touch.  The look

     on your face is well known to me - it is the one when

     you have finally found the words of your poem. Now it is

     just a matter of letting them flow to the pen and take

     life on the page.

          I rise and go to take a shower.  Nothing helps pass

     the time more than the cascading water.  Lathering my

     body it awakens even more.  Knowing you are downstairs.

     Knowing the pleasures.  Wanting. My hands stroke my

     body.  The soft bubbles of soap creating a sheen. I

     wonder if you ever realized that showering, even alone,

     is often a form of lovemaking with you.  In my mind, it

     is not my hands, but yours.  The moisture not water, but

     passion.  The soap not cleanser but lubrication of full


          Finally, toweling off, I ponder.  How far along are

     you to your latest sonnet?  Are you finished?  Have I

     delayed too long?  I want to hurry -but I want more to

     come down to you perfect in every way. A light dusting

     of my favorite scent, I don the lavender chiffon

     nightie.  It is short.  Hanging just inches below my

     hips.  Hiding, yet not hiding.  The soft satin underlays

     conceal -almost- my nipples.  Their tautness pushes

     against the satin and their form is there to see.  The

     creamy breasts peek over the top.  I pile my hair

     carefully atop my head (though that will not last long).

     I glance at the lacy panties that were meant to be worn

     with the gown. Thinking.  Hesitating.  I pick them up.

     I drop them.  Putting them on.  No.  Removing them.  No.

     Finally donning them again, I descend to the kitchen.

          Your favorite wine has been hidden in the back of

     the refrigerator.  Chilling for just such a night as

     this.  I take down two crystal wine glasses from the set

     we save for special company. Are we not very special

     ourselves?  Are you not worth the finest that I can

     offer?  Quickly rinsing the glasses and placing them in

     the freezer for a light frost - not too much, it dilutes

     the wine - just so the frost is there on the glass.  I

     slice the cheese and carefully arrange it.  Preparing as

     though we were entertaining the most important person.

     But then.  I am.  I want to serve you and you are the

     most important person in my universe.

          I carry the tray into the den.  You are still

     sitting in the chair but now your gaze is one of

     reflection as you read the words again. I know.  You

     have now read it numerous times.  Searching for the

     places it does not meet your approval.  Checking.  Re-

     checking.  You glance up.  That soft smile melts me.

     Then your eyes change as you  register my appearance.

     No, Darling.  I no longer am wearing the sweatshirt and

     slacks.  Yes.  I am dressed for loving.  At first I was

     going to bring the tray to your chair.  But then

     thinking more, no. You are finished writing now.  Now is

     -our- time.  Now is for the special foreplay that

     arouses me so intensely.

          I kneel by the fire, carefully setting the tray on

     the glossy maple floor.  I lie down.  Putting the book

     aside that I had been reading, I lie on the pillow.  It

     pushes my breasts upwards more.  I need not ask you.

     You rise to come join me.  How I love that smoking

     jacket.  Ahhh. If more men realized that dressing

     sensually is not just for women.  Knowing you are naked

     under it certainly adds to my body's excitement.  As you

     lie next to me I yearn to caress you.  But it is not

     time.  Not yet.

          Smiling.  So eager I am.  Yet, you seem to tease.

     How many poems have you written?  How many times have we

     begun our passions this way?  It does not matter.  Each

     time is as wonderful as the first and yet, because it is

     known, more glorious than the times before.  Now is the

     time you choose to share.  I delight in being the first

     to hear the newest creation.  I wonder.  Do you know

     that I listen this first time with my soul?  Later we

     can edit for form and technique.  But this first time,

     it is listening from within. This writing is as much you

     as your body.  It is more so .  From its lines, you

     share a part of your mind.  From the words, you tell

     your heart.  As you begin to read (recite?), I follow

     the feelings. Desires rise.  Your voice fills me.  I am

     wrapped in the wonders of being a woman.  How wonderful

     it is being like this.  With you.

          When you finish you look at me for the first time.

     Sometimes I think you judge your success by how excited

     I am physically.  You can be writing about blacktopping

     a highway, but at this moment it is as sensual as the

     most poignant love story.  And, it has much the same

     affect.  Sipping your wine; I watch your eyes now fully

     concentrate on me.  You gaze first at my face.  Studying

     each feature as though seeing me for the first time now.

     The firelight reflecting in my eyes.

          Finally!  You set the glass down and lower yourself

     to me. Your mouth covering mine.  The kiss begins so

     tenderly.  First, just your mouth on mine.  Then, your

     tongue sliding over my lips.  Now probing.  My mouth

     opens.  My tongue meets yours.  Licks.  I slowly

     suck you into my mouth.

     Our tongues doing a slow waltz.  Your arms wrap around

     me and draw me closer to you.  My arms pulling you

     closer to me.  Time slows.  Your hands are slowly

     sliding the gown off my shoulders.  You kiss my neck.

     Feeling your lips nibbling on my neck sends shudders

     through me.  The swirling in my groin responds.

     Sometimes I think you can carry me to climax without

     ever moving further into our lovemaking.

          I slide my hands under your smoking jacket.

     Feeling the strength of your bare shoulders.  Fondling

     you.  The prolonged desires becoming almost intolerable.

     How I want to make love to you to feel you in my body.

     Arousing.  Stimulating.  Carrying me to the outermost

     limits of total euphoria.  Your hands slowly push the

     fabric away as your lips blaze a trail of lust down my

     neckline. My hands are busy undoing your sash -removing

     the jacket.  My gaze delights in the sight of your

     strong, masculine chest -and more. Ah.  I am not the

     only one totally aroused.  A smile toys at my lips.  Has

     anyone ever made love before us?  Is this our secret

     surrender. It is a merger of two bodies made to enjoy

     delights that only loving the person can bring.  The

     physical act simple.  Any animal can do it.  But

     lovemaking?  That, My Dearest, requires a man such as

     you.  A man who can love with his mind, his heart, and

     his body.  Anything else is purely exercise.

          I am wrapped in an invisible warmth.  I bury my

     face in the corded muscles of your chest.  My lips

     nibbling the skin.  Sucking.  Licking.  You move

     slightly so you can continue to kiss my lower neck.  You

     hands now enfolding my large breasts as you have removed

     the gown.  The nipples pointing to the heavens where my

     sensations are carrying me.  Your lips seize a nipple

     with tantalizing possessiveness.  It springs into your

     mouth.  Your tongue slides over the ridges, your mouth

     sucking it in.  Your other hand fondles the large glove,

     its pink nipple marble hard.  Your free hand slides

     along my silken belly.  Tingling sensations left in its


          I seek your swollen member and grasp it.  No

     timidness.  Desire. I want to feel it with my hand.

     Feel the surges.  Feel the firmness.  In feeling, my

     senses reel as though short-circuited. Moisture is

     seeping out of me.  I tremble under your touch and the

     sensations of touching you.  My fingers find the small

     groove on the underside of your manhood.  I massage it.

     Up.  Down.  Slowly.  Ever so slowly.

          Your hand has moved to my thatch of dark hair.

     Your fingers parting a way through.  Creeping silently

     to the slit.  Sliding deftly into it.  You find the

     knob.  Hard. Round.  A woman's erection.  Shivers of

     delight make my body quiver under your touch. You suck

     the nipple; roll the knob under the ball of your finger.

     Each movement driving me further and further into a

     frenzy of sensations.  Darling.  Dearest.

          Moans escape my lips.  My body presses towards you.

     In accepting your passionate attentions, I give to you

     pleasures of allowing you to be the masterful man you

     are.  A lover.  A friend. A man like no other.  You have

     the power and the skill to stimulate each nerve in my

     body.  To awaken all the primordial urges that society

     seems to wish did not exist.  But, under your mastery,

     you can give them form.  Being.  Existence.  And, in

     giving, you receive.  You take my passion and it fuels

     yours.  Yours, returns to mine in a flood of raw energy

     that further ignites my own passions. Together, we can

     soar through cloudless skies borne on wings of an energy

     that only our bodies can create.

          Your finger slides down the slit further - pushing

     up.  Up into my body.  The torrents of liquid soaking

     you.  My hips matching your pushes.  Cries.  Whimpers.

     My fingers feel the drops of your fluid which are

     escaping.  I hear your breathing ... heavy now.  You

     muffle a groan in my breast.  Now.  Now is the time for

     which we have waited.  Now.  Our bodies are ready.  Our

     souls are ready.  Our love is a rhapsody.  Now.

          I want you in me. In me as deeply as possible.  I

     want to feel every inch of your cock deep inside my

     body.  I roll.  Quickly positioning myself before you on

     my knees.  Spreading my legs to  allow you the most

     access.  The whiteness mounds of my ass given a golden

     tinge by the firelight.  You move your hand to continue

     to caress my clit from between my legs as you rise and

     position yourself behind me.

          I reach back.  Guiding you.  Taking your pulsating

     cock, I position it at the opening, the juices squeezing

     out, onto you.  You thrust.  Hard.  Plunging yourself in

     all the way in one firm movement.  My cry of delight

     fills the room.  Movement stops.  My cunt muscles

     encircle you.  Clutching.  Vibrating against your

     member.  Tightly wrapping it in a wet embrace.  Passion

     pounds the blood through my body.  Burning within.  A

     dizziness sweeps across me.  I move back towards you.

     You withdraw.

          Thrusting in again.  Harder and faster than before.

     We fall into a rhythm of movements.  A choreographer

     could not have created our motions with more perfection.

     The tempo increases.  Each thrust met by a counter-

     thrust.  Our bodies in exquisite harmony with one

     another.  Our hearts beating.  Pounding out the music to

     the unique maestro of passion.  I feel the heat of your

     body transported through mine by your member plunging in

     and out.

          Our cries of delight merge.  You release the

     torrents of fluid to mingle with mine.  Thrusting even

     deeper as your climax surges through you.  My own

     merging.  My vaginal muscles now in spasms.

     The gripping on your member draining it.  Taking every

     drop.  What my body can not hold runs between us.

     United as we are.

          Time stops.

          Lying in your arms, secure, satisfied.  I turn and

     gently kiss you.  No words are needed.  We know.  We

     love.  Our giving has been received.  Our reception has

     been given.  We are replenished.  A deep feeling of

     peace enfolds us and carries us to dreamland where

     there is only dreams of love fulfilled.



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