Small Moments - Sex Stories

Small Moments

... Shivering a bit, I quickly pull the blanket back over me and slide closer to you, re-forming the comforting pocket of heat beneath that our close bodies create together; this familiar cocoon I could stay wrapped up in all night. My arm slips around your waist, the rest of my body spooning behind yours. Whenever things get this quiet, the busy parts of our lives halting to an absolute stillness and it's like every sound has been jettisoned away to leave us in a soundless vacuum, I'll think about things like this. The moments with you are imprinted into my head and heart like frozen stills or preserved snapshots. I'll even think about the rarity of two beings crossing each other’s paths and fitting one another so perfectly. How every contour aligns, how the warmth created always seems to be just the right amount for two people, and how something indefinable is also here. Some wordless allure, a pull towards one that is as absolute as gravity, as the way planets orbit on course, as the way land masses drift through vast oceans and eventually collide one another to form anew. Maybe there are no words, because assigning them to what we’ll never fully understand would be an attempt to bring it down to a level too basic, too fragile, and attempts to keep scratching its surface would only crack it open. I don't try to question how any of us meet and come together as something much more than drifting strangers or close friends, or as two that seem to know every instinct and mood of ...

... the other on a level growing deeper with each passing day. I don't question the way you softly breathe or how the air your sleeping frame releases from your lungs grazes the arm I have wrapped around you like a light and warm gust of wind. I don’t question the way your body adjusts slightly to snuggle, to get even more comfortable and align even more completely with me. But in those few seconds of movement, you let out a sound somewhere between a moan, an indecipherable whisper, and the many random noises we all utter in our sleep at times. Shifting my body with yours, we settle into a perfect stillness, my arm still around your waist, shirt pushed up just enough to where my arm drapes around the soft skin just below your bare navel. Your head moves a tiny bit, too. My lips are close to the exposed skin of your neck where your hair has fallen off to the side. So close that my entire being seems frozen in that aching anticipatory moment before contact. That moment where it's almost like there's a faint humming beneath the skin. It awakens every dormant sleepy nerve that has charged for you from the very first time we touched. That first time my hand gripped yours in a bookstore and you smiled for the very first time at me, your often careful guard falling away. Months later, you'd tell me you smiled because you found it adorable, how nervous I was, and it was cute that I actually shook your hand. I did that because, yes, I was so nervous that my bones felt like soft trembling ...