not in chronological order but something made me think of this...
(If Allure and I were both there, we danced with each other. But if it was a masquerade and we were in costume, she was not the Queen but a woman. We still found each other, and we openly indukged our passions. The following is built upon such an occasion, drawing from the log and embellishing a trifle.).
He stood there, transfixed. The masked blonde wore little more than feathers and the way she moved as she danced alone made him forget his name. For a moment he even forgot to breathe. When he found his voice he whispered something but nobody heard. He tried again. Still nothing. Finally, after clearing his throat a few times he regained enough volume to ask her dance with him.
She melted into his arms as though she had been waiting for such an invitation and as he breathed in the heady scents, delicate perfumes mixed with the light sheen of oils glistening on her skin and faintest tang of aroused woman. A feather in her headdress tickled his nose, and he sneezed. With that explosion came a thrust of his hips and she moaned near his ear. He bent his head and kissed her, delicately at first, a slow, almost tentative pull of her lower lip between his, and when another moan told him she was ready he traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. Soon hers tickled his and they began a second dance, weaving in and out of each other’s mouths, and all sound seemed to cease as he focused all his attention on her.
Settling into a rhythmic swaying, they clung to each other and he cursed himself for wearing not the bare-chested barbarian costume but the spandex superhero outfit. So readily able to see her charms rubbing his chest, yet barely able to feel the delicate motion increased the tightness in his chest – and elsewhere – and his breathing became labored.
It cannot be said how long they simply danced and caressed and kissed before it all became too much and, grasping her slender waist he lifted her easily until her breast was at his lips and he nibbled and sucked the thin material blocking his delight and, turning aside, spat it on the floor. Pausing to suckle her proud nipple for a moment, he smiled as she wriggled and managed to position her other breast near enough to fairly shout her desire. Soon her nipples matched again, pebbling as he wet them with his tongue, then blew a cool stream of air over them as they seemed to strain of their own accord to reach his lips Slowly lowering her, dragging her chest over his, their breath once again mingled as their tongues resumed their dance, even more fevered, more wanton than before.
Splaying the fingers of his left hand across her bare back to keep her steady, his right slipped between them and began stroking her supple skin, her delicate feathers, her nipple thrusting so insolently into his touch. Breaking their kiss she leaned her head against him and clasped his rear. She moaned again as his fingers parted her plumage, finding a warm, wet nest. Her sudden gasp was all the encouragement he needed and the swaying and rocking, for they had continued to dance all the while, seemed to provide just the right rhythm, for a short (or perhaps a long, it’s so difficult to know these things) time later she lifted her eyes to his with the same look a cat has a moment before jumping into your lap, and he kissed her once more, just in time to breathe her ecstasy as she found release.
“Oh Goddess,” she half moaned, half whispered, “I have to go. So sorry to leave you like this,” she continued, rubbing his costume-encased bulge, eliciting a moan from his own lips. “Please tell me we’ll meet again?”
Before he could say anything she had whispered something in his ear and given the lobe a gentle nip. Her cool fingers brushed his cheek and in a swirl of feathers, she was gone. Were it not for the sweet honey he meditatively licked from his finger, he might have thought it was but a dream….
(c) 2007 - 2010
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