Slow Dance - Sex Stories

Slow Dance

... the way the many aspects of us have had such a wonderful sync from early on. This is the primal cartography of us here unfolding, smoothing out. I've assigned titles before to your eyes, the loops of your fingerprints, the little area on the wrist where your pulse quickens from my initiation. I can attach words to them, descriptions of sacred territories, the regions that await my careful exploration. Such primal places, though, cannot ever be described with unfailing accuracy. It is better to let such lands remain nameless, to navigate and lose yourself in them rather than worry so much about how to describe what is both complex and simple. Your sleepy sighs are this way too, as I continue down your back. Complex, in the sense that out of the billions of people populating the planet, the billions of specific preferences our cells and nerves formulate and whisper for, I found my one match. You have found yours. That's also the simple part; how two just naturally go together and how your sounds and brief motions give me consent. I always want to wander, though. Down to the small of your back near the waistband of your pajama pants and higher up, under your shirt, where your shoulder becomes the soft recess of your collarbone. I want you to know how much I adore every curve, every expanse of skin. I glide along, embedding every pore with heat from the friction I'm mapping your form with. I feel the tangles of your muscles relaxing beneath my touch, your body craving more as ...

... you wake up. You know what moves to telegraph, what will trigger me into more action. Your neck signals for my kiss by craning, and you slightly grind against me when my lips meet that curve. Your hand suddenly closes over mine, guiding it to your waist. My nails trail the skin below your stomach, back and forth. Never enough to leave a mark, but enough to soothe and warm you before slipping under your waistband. Between your legs, there's already so much heat emanating from within as I massage that delicate area through your panties. You push back harder against me this time, the sudden pressure of your cheeks making me realize how much I'm throbbing. We always make the other escalate. Your slow grinds swelling the place I always ache for you. My hand rubs you faster through the soft and thin material covering your sex, your slickness already beginning to seep through. Your moves are a controlled slow dance that is almost too much to take, driving me to have more of you, my hand slipping beneath your panties. I want to tease you with one of the slow dances I know. In that first moment of contact, it's like there's a burning heartbeat between your legs, each pulse thrumming through your petals as a message to soothe you. Juices have already trickled out, coating lips, as you adjust a little to allow me further passage. My heart hammers harder when you utter a hushed gasp, fingers instantly sliding inside you, thumb swirling your clit each time my fingers withdraw and carefully ...