Real World in Fashion.

You Know This Lover

You Know This Lover You drive through the night, the only sound your tires singing on wet black pavement and the rhythm of your own heart. You watch your small hands griping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles are white with anticipation. You are amazed, why should you feel this tension? You have done this many times. This is no new experience, you know this lover. This is no single night's lust with a stranger. This is more than your lover you meet this is your love. But then you think. "Can I ever know this man?" "Will I ever understand the complex folds of his erotic mind?" or Learn to command the wheel of his passion?" You think not. He leaves you breathless. Always a step ahead yet never leaving you wanting, drawing you deeper into yourself. There have been times when you felt certain mastery. Felt that at long last you had reached a point of comfortable predictability. Even thought a trifle smugly of the accomplishment. Then in a gleam of his carnal eye your world reeled in a flurry of pleasure that you had not even dreamed existed. Still you know this lover, you know to trust this lover, He would never lead you to harm, never betray your faith in any way. You may not be certain which of earthly road he will travel, what winding amorous path he may embrace. But you know that you will follow without hesitation, as your desire's perfection is his completion. A fleeting scent of your perfume touches your nostrils. Reminding you of your preparation for this night. From the moment your phone rang at noon you have been preparing. Choosing the clothes, scents, and colors for your encounter. So simple his call, laden with promise. No hello, Nor even a simple goodbye. None of the usual endearments you have become accustomed to. You answer the phone, your mind racing on the million different paths the responsibilities of your day demand. You hear his voice, a room number, motel then the hollow click of the receiver. Nothing more, not waiting for your reply, he does not require your assurance, he knows you will come. You know this lover, but not as he knows you. A slightly nervous laugh escapes you. For the first time you understand that he is already making love to you. He has been doing so since noon. The thought fills you with love and admiration. Heat rises in your loins as you press your narrow foot down farther on the accelerator. The road has become your antagonist, the dark rival that stands between you and your craving, seeming to grow as you devour each mile. The drive only an hour from the city feeling like a lifetime quest for rapture. You wonder why so far? Then again realize the extent of his devising. He knew! He knew you would go from nervous anticipation to barely controllable lust in this time. He is in the car with you, making love to you even now. Stoking your fire, fanning you to the point of incineration, without even touching your body. The wetness between your eager thigh's attest to his success. The scent of your own musk begins to mingle with the scents you applied for him. You know he will not mind. It is your scent he stalks, this master hunter. Your instincts he studies. Your womanly need his prey. Your heated flesh he will consume. The dark countryside rushes past you. Open fields reflect the moons glow from rain dampened crops. The silhouettes of Oak and Pine stand sentry over you, guarding this prey as they have guarded prey for centuries. But this prey seeks the hunter. You feel your heart quicken, pulsing in your throat. The harsh glare of neon cuts the tranquility of the countryside. So harsh and out of place yet so welcome. You and your lover have passed this small motel many times, you never paid it much attention. It seems he must have, he is always thinking this love of yours. As you pull into the gravel drive you see his car with satisfaction, even love, you thank this mindless machine for carrying him safely. Parking before the aging room more desirable to you now than a suite in the finest hotel in Paris, your senses are enchanted with the silence, the smells of the country. Newly mowed hay, pine a thousand sweet textures of scent waltz with your desire. They play in the deepest folds of your mind. In this place of solitude you have no responsibility, no job, no stress. You are simply a creature of nature doing natures bidding. You enter the room locking the door behind you to shut the world out and your passion in. You say no words of greeting, nor does he. You do not even look for him in the dim light. You have no need, You know it is your lover, his sweet aroma fills you. Slowly he moves behind you licking the back of your neck while his hands move under your blouse massaging your soft flat belly before moving upward toward your breasts. Closing your eyes you bend your head forward your breath becoming deep and slow as your nipples harden beneath his touch, the palms of your hands become moist and warm with anticipation. Gently he removes your blouse kissing, nibbling, and licking each new bit of skin he exposes. Sucking your breasts into his mouth sometimes soft and moist, occasionally demanding, flicking your now fully erect nipples. Sliding his accomplished lingua between your cleavage he moves downward leaving a trail of pending elation on your skin, stopping only for a moment to lick your navel as his hands slide up the back of your smooth bare legs and begin massaging your buttocks. He chews on your pelvic mound with hunger and your tight skirt becomes wet with his saliva and the readiness flowing from your need to be his feast. You live in a body solicitous for his touch, his tongue, and his entry. Your eagerness will not rush his banquet, you know you will have to wait. You know this lover, you know he has no desire to quickly take you, drain his passion at the expense of yours and go. This lover wants to play your body, explore your deepest desires at times gently and tenderly teasing you to joy. At other times demanding and forceful making you to submit to the primal passions that dwell beneath the surface of socialized conduct. He runs his tongue along the cleavage of your toes, then removes your pumps, licking your feet sucking on each toe one at a time then very slowly rises up to unzip your skirt sliding it deliberately over your hips while kissing the front of your dampened panties. Sucking your elixir through the silk, before pulling them down your shuddering legs with his teeth. He stands removing his touch to drink the sight of your naked body with eyes that thirst. He is still fully clothed and you stand unconcealed before him feeling vulnerable and exposed. His arms at last enfold you pulling your body weak with need to him. His mouth feels hot on yours his breath sweet, deeply kissing his prey. This hunt is over, this prey is his, your body has once again betrayed you, led you to his side, forced you to eagerly cast your flesh to his whim. You melt into his hard chest, rejoicing in the roughness of his clothing and the delicacy of your nudity. He lays you face down on the bed and you hear him remove his clothes. You wish to turn and look, to see the muscles move beneath the hair of his chest, to pay visual homage to his hardness and envision it penetrating your anxious femininity. Still you resist the temptation to gaze at his masculine splendor. You know this lover you know his moods and tonight he doesn't want you to think, only to feel. To flow with the sensations he will give you. The fate of your passion is in his expert hands not your own. So you lay face down in scarce contained anticipation and wait. You feel a shock of warmth as he pours heated cherry scented oil on your bare buttocks letting it run between your rear cleavage seeking your depths. His warm hand explores you. Slowly slipping an oil slick finger into your rear passage, letting you savor the intrusion, stroking you long and leisurely allowing you to feel each slow caress. You can think of nothing else save his finger violating your most private space. He removes his finger and his tongue now moves to the cleavage of your seat moving deeper with each pass until he begins licking the sensitive opening. Delving deep inside, soothing you with his heat while massaging your woman's pearl with knowing hands, slick with sweet scented oil. Your breath enters in short deep gasps. You moan lost in a world only he knows how to create. Without shame you reach back with both hands spreading the cheeks of your behind. Pressing toward the giver of sensations that lavishes lingual veneration on this potent bundle of nerve endings. Your delectation is enhanced because you know that not only is your love willing to delight you in this way. He does so with a hunger born of appreciation for each texture, scent and reaction of your existence. Your skin burns with the fever of arousal, though you do not notice it the blush of passion has formed patterns between your breasts. A glistening sheen of sweat forms on your naked back as your world becomes more and more focused. There are no problems to solve no bills that need paying. At this moment there is nothing but the sheer joy of sensation and adoration for the man that now devours the most private portion of your body with untamed abandon. You feel your need rise toward the moment of completion. He feels it too and holds you there. His tongue and hands expertly keeping you on the verge but not yet willing to let you fall into the well of release. Moments feel like hours as your body swirls in the winds of sensuality. You moan in yearning as he removes his touch. Your breath shallow, waiting, knowing not to look, your ears seek his intent, his quiet movements, the sound of a plastic chest opens then shuts, a rustling of paper, your anticipation mounts. His hand in your hair gently pulls back your head, a chill on your cheek. You quiver as now his intention is revealed. He offers a cherry Popsicle to your lips. You suck it deep into your mouth as if it were he, it soothes a throat parched from the passing of heated breath. He strokes your soft mouth with long cold strokes, allowing you time to contemplate your fate. Removing it from your mouth he returns to your buttocks rubbing the sweet ice on your flaming cheeks. Cooling them allowing your heat to melt your lover of frost, running in cool trickles into your heated crevice. You feel it parting your cheeks probing deeper, slowly seeking your opening. You clutch the blanket in both apprehension and anticipation. It has found you. The journey into your body begins as your sphincter encircles the intruder, trying desperately to protect you, but losing its grip, too slick with oil and ice to hold. It takes you repeatedly, sinking inside, pouring its cold energy into you as the heat from your body drains it. You moan and raise your quivering hips to challenge each cold thrust. You become a squirming sheen of femininity in need. As the sweat from your skin runs down the line of your spine like a river of lust. The tender cheeks of your bottom are filled with fire and ice as part of you wishes it would end and another part wishes it never would. As usual he makes that decision for you and you wonder how he knows your limits without being told. Once again his hot mouth soothes you. Warm strong hands again massage your female jewel. After the cold, his heat is far more intense and you revel in its potent effect. Your hands clutch the bed spread as you whimper in ecstasy. Whimpers turn to moans, then soon to a pleas as you begin to beg for merciful release. Your body conveys your need for completion, writhing in wanton abandon. Your small hands no longer simply clutch the bed spread but strip the bedding until your nails claw the bare mattress in urgency. Mercifully he rolls you over and buries his tongue between your folds. You feel it slithering along the soaked and beckoning center of your femininity. Your pearl is hard and standing, begging to be loved. He hears its call accepting it into his mouth, giving succor. He begins the swirling motion that he knows always brings you over the edge. His fingers enter you and find the secret swollen rise against the back of your pelvis. Using this grip to pull you even closer. The motion of his strong fingers matches those of his serpent tongue. The relentless assault is his answer to your plea, the prayer you offered for satisfaction will be answered. You will be granted the blessing of rapture. Gratefully you yield yourself giving all your senses to his master touch. For a moment the pressure is so intense you think you may have to urinate. But then the fire spreads as your reach your first release, your breathing stops. Every muscle in your body flexes and quivers as your contractions begin. The muscles in your love well pulse with a mind of there own. Wholly beyond control your waking mind. Warm wine flows from your woman's grotto only to be swallowed greedily by your lover. You hear his moan echo inside you. This only adds to your response because you know he desires every touch smell and taste of your femininity. Slowly your release subsides but you do not regret its passing. You know this lover you know the night is just beginning. Yes you know this lover, and this lover knows your body, understands that after your release, the muscles of your inner walls will need to be filled, will need to cling, will spasm seeking the hardness of a man to hold. As with all your needs he fills this one. Lifting your seat in strong hands and driving his shaft deep in one powerful thrust. No longer the gentle coaxing lover he pummels your mound, fast and hard riding you with a force that nearly drives the breath from your lungs. Your eyes open in amazement, as you watch his body. The lines of his strength defined, drilling his piston of flesh inside you with total wantonness. Stopping only to press deep inside and compress your distended jewel against his groin. You lock your legs around the small of his back in an attempt to hold some of your weight from him, but you know it is not necessary. Though his superior physical strength is a constant knowledge to you, it is at times such as these when you realize just how much power he possesses. The weakness of your small frame rests lightly in his hands as he irresistibly takes you. Splitting you with his shaft, possessing you. Sweat pours down his forehead into his eyes. The sting of salt only causes him to shake his head flinging it from him. This beast of passion, carelessly swatting a small distraction far too trivial to cause him to miss his pace. You are so intent on watching the sheen of lover's toil on his hard frame, so astonished at the vigor of his relentless onslaught that your second explosion erupts before you feel its approach. A quick build, then violent pulsing contractions, you shake with your eyes wide open in shock. Your vision intensifies, your world becomes so clear that it deifies reality, your lover its center, you move beyond clear, he becomes a white glow, a strange combination of vision distorted and a sharpness beyond your comprehension. Still he drives on. No! Even increases his efforts, turning your cry's to screams, not letting you recede until your spent nervous system can stand no more. Slowly evenly he lets you down, his movements now barely perceptible, placing your small bottom on the soft cool bed. He soothes you, leaning forward, kissing your now closed eyes, licking your lips, letting your breath enter his panting lungs, renewing him. Touching, caressing, appreciative. His hands explore the length of your body slick with your sheen. Your long hair is soaked with spent desire, he brushes it from your face. Being sure that you do not feel the sting of salt in your eyes he wipes them with his lips. Whispers his devotion in your ear with heated breath. He withdraws and stands beside the bed his hardness still not spent and it juts firmly from his hips. You see him reach to the nightstand and retrieve a small cord, then grasp your slim ankles and hold them in one large hand as he ties first one big toe and then the other pulling your feet together. You giggle in erotic respect as he rubs your feet with the scented oil. His ability to find new and different delights seems boundless. Holding your feet between his hands by the heels he enters the gap of your slick arches. The sight of his velvet head staring at you as it seduces your soft feet transfixes your eyes. Moving back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm, a dancing cobra to your flute. Only it is you and not the Cobra that is mesmerized. You cannot break the spell of its mating dance as you watch his serpent languidly basking in the supple sensitive flesh of your arches. You barely notice as your lover takes your hand and coats your finger with oil, then places it to your still swollen cleft. Your finger moves in long practiced small circles on your well loved but still distended pleasure median. Timing itself to the dance that has captured your mind. The world has diminished to this one small point, this is your existence, your reality. All thought has been blocked, only you and the velvet cobra remain. Even your lover's body disappears to blackness behind his dance. The cobra stares at you with lust on his lips. There is no escape from his spell he will claim his prey. Your mental clock has departed you have no concept of time. Lost with this serpent of passion you and he dance. The head of your tormentor swells slightly preparing to strike. Your heart quickens knowing your moment is near. You will soon be a victim of his primal need. Unlike your lover this one knows no compassion. There will be no escape from his strike, his only goal you. The meaning of his life is the claiming of you. He will show no mercy. You welcome his lover's venom. You crave the feel of its heat on your skin. Still he does not claim you. You are confused. You have lost this dance! Why does he wait? Tormenting you. What more does he require? You once again feel the beginnings of orgasmic splendor. His dance quickens sensing its approach. Now you know why he waits, he must have your submission! This dance must end together. You build in a slowly rising crescendo, unlike your last release this one gives you forewarning, building evenly but willfully higher. Frantically before you the serpent dances. You hang at the peak as your voice makes sounds that have no meaning to anyone but lovers, you speak in the tongue of the cobra, then suddenly fall over the edge into the abyss of rapture. He releases you from the spell. You have upheld your bargain. Hot venom sprays your skin, streams of desires flame streak your thighs, over your stomach and breasts, even reaching your lips where you drink it greedily into your mouth. This time you fall in ecstasy. The venom of devotion enters your skin bonding you to this velvet serpent, but more to this lover.