Slow Dance - Sex Stories

Slow Dance

We had fallen asleep during a movie and I only woke up because a series of thunderclaps began booming across the sky. The contained force is like an explosion, propelling air towards all the houses on our street, rattling windows and gently tremoring through floorboards. During these storms, sometimes each roar in the sky seems to hum through my bones. From the couch, I see a blurry silhouette of the night as my eyes adjust. It's nothing but constant sheets of rain pouring from billowing dark clouds and strobing flashes of jagged white-blue light, like electric veins racing across the sky. The television's random digital glows bathe the living room in faint rainbow light. Little bits of our night surge through my mind. Lazily snuggling and flipping through channels; your laughter at some joke during the film that I can't recall; a small smile arcing your lips and your hand squeezing mine. My attention was more focused on you then. How beautiful you looked with the screen's glow covering your skin, eyes shimmering like jewels, like the rings around a mysterious planet that I wanted to reach. I love those little instances in time. They are all blinks, once tangible frames that will fade as most things do even if I cling tightly to preserve, them like fragile artifacts. All we can really do to fight time's passage is to carve what we can into memory. I treasure these with you. We have our responsibilities day to day that keep us apart. And, like any two that have been together ...

... for a long time, we have our squabbles, jealousies, and misunderstandings. But, we also have the solidarity of one another, a certainty that we can always find a safe haven together by the day's end. You startle me now when stirring a bit, head slightly turning, body still against mine beneath the comforter we brought downstairs with us to combat the cold. I ask if you're okay and you say yes, but you don't want me to go. I remind you it's the middle of the night, that I'm not going anywhere. Your answer is simple, beautiful - Good, hold me. They're the only words I need to snuggle closer, to completely spoon my body with yours. Time passes in a sleepy haze. I stroke through your locks, each strand of hair fragrant and silky, my fingers wandering to your neck. I love gradually waking you with my fingertips, as bits of your consciousness gently come to life. Fingertips roam lower now before my entire hand contours to you. Your back arches, a pale curve, a bridge forming for my attentive palm to travel along. Every motion and reaction is perfect to me. The arching allows me access to the softest areas of your back, that specific sensitive plane of skin you have to have touched. Your lips finally part to exhale the most quiet and sleepy moan. Eyelids narrow, revealing no other expression than a hidden simmering need that will soon no longer be contained. They're all perfect subtleties of you. They all assemble in any order to build the most beautiful person to me and are proof of ...