My hand between her legs, the air stood, suspended

My hand between her legs, the air stood, suspended. She didn’t react, I could not even breathe, as if all of my consciousness and my being were in the palm of my hand. Nothing else existed, not even time. And then it moved, the tips of my fingers seeking the warmest comfort, up and down. It was then that she tried to move it away but weakly. What are you doing, she asked me in her sweet, sweet, shy accent. We were still in that moment in which we were still others, and every mistake could alienate the other. I wanted her and maybe she loved me, but in that moment we were not yet speaking the same language: I didn’t know what she really wanted. I looked at her and she looked at me so we kissed and I moved my hand away for the moment, on the firmness of her legs and her jeans. Her jeans that seemed painted on her. She started to explore under my t-shirt, my belly (oh, don’t be self-conscious, there is a bit of belly, stop tightening), my chest, the hair on my chest and then my back. My back was exposed, I hadn’t realised, my love handles cold in the open air of my room, her hands warm, forgiving. Through the touch of her hand I was discovering my body that I had almost forgotten. I took my shirt off because I wanted the touch of her hands. In the meantime we kept kissing, but we were distracted by each other’s hands. It was as if our mouths were the way we breathed, we didn’t need to think about it but we knew our breaths were warm. It was not enough anymore, I lifted her shirt, just a bit, and I pulled her close. Belly against belly we were as animals, all feelings and intensities. I told her I loved feeling her like that. In a voice that was the whisper of a bird, she said that she liked it too. So I took courage and I explored her everywhere underneath her shirt and tried to take it off, but she stopped me. Maybe, she is not ready yet. I was growing impatient, but I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me, so that was okay. Slowly in my imagination, but maybe too fast for her I made her lie down on the sofa, as one lays a flower on a bed of grass. And I lied on her. We kissed, we touched. I lifted her shirt again against my belly, I made sure she felt my weight, I wanted to shout at her that I was there, I was there with her. I grabbed both her buttocks and squeezed as much as I could, but they were strong, muscle opposing me. She started moving underneath me, and I realised that my penis was thick between her legs, with my weight on it. She was stimulating her clitoris. We started a circular dance. Our tongues seemed to simulate what we wanted to happen down there. Her tongue became violent, as if wanted to penetrate inside me. She bit, she spoke in breaths. I held on to her hair, the small of her waist. We stopped, as it tired. I pulled her shirt up and almost in the same movement, I pulled her right bra down and sucked on her right nipple. I was taking oxygen, energy. Then I sucked and bit her breast. It was so white, and her nipple just a tender flesh. I looked at her to make sure she was there. I went down again, my lips on her nipple. This time, when I put my hand between her legs she let me.

TO BE CONTINUED…