I’m nervous and I’m shy. Like a fourteen year old entering her first school dance. My eyes focus on everything but you. I ask for another glass of wine. A few more glasses later, I’ve torn the walls down, I’ve relaxed and we’re leaning into each other. The bar around us disappears, time ceases to exist and we drown ourselves in the attraction, at hand.
You tell me it’s time to go as you take my hand and lead me out of the bar to your awaiting car. The road is long, but the conversation flows as easily as the wine.
We arrive at your house. We can’t wait to get inside. Both of us on the edge of that moment, that need, that desire. It burns strong, deep down. We can’t escape it.
You pull me through the door and begin to kiss me. I melt and moan and want it so badly. I feel your hands as they glide across my dress and knead the muscles in my back. I’ve become your sculpture, you can mold me as you like.
You peel me out of my dress, so slowly, licking the sweat off my neck. My heart is racing. I can’t think anymore, I’ve become a part of this moment, and this is the only thing I care in the world for. You devour my mouth with yours. You begin to explore places on my body I never knew existed and I reciprocate.
Your hands travel up my thighs to reach my lace thong. You pull it back and gently caress the outside of my lips, soft and velvety. You tease me and take great delight in the fact that I’m moaning, shaking, begging you for more. I’m soaking, dripping and in great need of the release. Slowly, painfully slowly, you slide a finger between my slick, satin walls and I gasp. Then another. Two, gently moving together to create a wondrous friction of juices and velveteen skin. I lean back to give you greater access. I have surrendered. My white flag is held high and there’s no going back. I could die, like this, in the throes of such ecstasy. You’re reaching, spreading those fingers deep inside me. Your expert movements make me quiver and I can feel myself teetering over the edge. Over and over again, I loose my fluid. You have no qualms about how much or how many. I toss my head back and cry out, for the pleasure is nearly too much to bear. I’m covered in sweat, my eyes and hair wild, my heart racing. You look up at me and decide it’s time to stop. So terribly slowly you remove your fingers and I cry at the emptiness. I want so much more. You draw your sodden fingers to your lips. I can see you want to taste me. My mind blanks. My legs grow weaker and I think I’m going to faint. I’m overwhelmed. I lean back and close my eyes. They snap open at the sound of a baby crying. Too close to be a neighbor. It must be in the same house. I look around me, trying to gather my bearings. The baby has finished it’s cry but there’s something else. I look through the darkness, see the clock, can hear it ticking. I’m sandwiched between two wet, cold sheets. The rhythmic sound of my husband’s breathing greets me and I can hear the traffic outside my window. I allow a little cry to escape as the reality hits me.
A dream. That’s all it ever was.
