A little slice of Heaven

Heaven is…

…when we lie together on the couch, spooned, your arm is my pillow and you tuck my butt firmly against your crotch. I nestle it in, pressing, so I can feel the twitches of your cock as it involuntarily responds to the familiar feel of pelvis against pelvis.

Your free hand begins to roam, light, gentle, feathery fingertips, your arm able to reach me from head to knee and back up, flowing over my breast. And in this way you stroke slowly, petting me. I smile lazily as gooseflesh follows your fingers explorations on my skin. I begin to drift, closing out noises and surroundings, losing myself in your touch, my eyelids droop, my body relaxes, until it lays limp in your arms. Every nerve subdued, quiet, and still you caress, skimming over me, and I am melted.

Without warning or hint, your fingertips pause at my nipple and with sudden fierceness you capture it and squeeze, hard, fingers seeking to meet each other in spite of the nipple-flesh trapped between them. The unexpected shift in sensation startles my sleepy nerves awake, my eyes fly open and the air is whooshed from my lungs on a soft, uncontrollable moan. I start to curl inward and just as suddenly as you struck, you relent. And the electric arc of pain shoots from my nipple to my clit and stops there, hammering a heartbeat of arousal.

I twitch, and groan, arching my back, baring my breast, silently pleading for more and your only response a deep, throaty chuckle and once again, your hands begin that slow, lazy journey across my body. For a time, I’m wary, hitching a breath when your hands near my nipple, waiting, anticipating. But you fool me with sweet fingertips, lulling me back into drifting and melting and my eyelids droop, my body relaxes, until it lays limp in your arms. And without warning or hint, your fingertips pause at my nipple…

And in this way, we dance.

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