Sexy Snippets vol. 3

Crushed

How can I focus on my work when everything reminds me of you?

I told my daughter adults don’t have crushes, that they’re the pleasure and curse of teenage-hood.

I told her to enjoy that delicious longing — for a glance, a smile, a word, a touch. There’s something precious about the anticipation, the possibility of what might be. A joy in the fantasy, which is too often lost when the relationship moves into more serious territory and people learn their crush is human, just like everyone else.

I told her I hadn’t had a crush since high school. When I spoke the words, they were true.

But then I met you.

I think of you reading my work, and I’m simultaneously turned on and terrified. But why would you read my work? You don’t know me, not like that. Why would you bother to search the internet for my name? You’ve never given me any indication you think of me in any way other than a friend. You’re gentle, caring, compassionate. We share the same interests, but where my knowledge is spread thin, you’ve delved into the depths, fascinating me with tidbits I half knew, proving my understanding barely brushes the surface.

I dream of you nuzzling into my neck. I imagine you sitting behind me as I work, kissing your way down my back. (Am I writing naked? It’s too cold for that. Perhaps it’s summer, and I’m in a dress with spaghetti straps. Perhaps it’s winter and the fire is roaring.) I see myself straddling your lap, both of us still clothed, your hands resting on my hips, my heart pounding at the prospect of what’s to come.

Sometimes, I long for these dreams to come true.

Mostly, I try to follow my own advice and savour that delicious longing.

Much better to enjoy the dreams of what may be, than ruin it with the mess of reality.

His Lips...

His lips were soft against her own.

He caressed her skin with smooth, deft hands.

He knew just how to hold her so she felt comfortable and safe, building up the warmth in her chest until it was a fire burning through her body.

She fumbled with his shirt, stroking his chest, grazing his nipples with her thumbs, her tongue meeting his as her hands found his belt.

They moved slowly together, checking for comfort and pleasure, their movements increasing in depth and speed as passion built, and she wrapped her legs around his, gripping his shoulders as an orgasm ripped through her body, leaving her quivering in his arms.

This was just as she needed it, and she held his gaze as she ran her fingers through his hair.

‘I love you.’

Pleasuring Each Other

There’s desire in his gaze, a need so great it makes my heart leap in my chest.

How am I so lucky to have this? Still, after so many years together, he still wants me just as much as I want him.

His hand trails my thigh, sliding between my legs to rub my cleft through my pants.

I spread them a little, shifting slightly to give him better access as I run my thumb over the bristles on his chin.

His lips part and I lean forward, our noses brushing before my lips press against his. They’re so soft. I close my eyes as our kiss deepens, as he slips a finger beneath the elastic of my knickers and slides it through the dark curls.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispers the words, his voice husky, and I pull his shirt over his head, my hands splaying across his chest, my thumbs grazing his nipples.

He groans, ever so softly.

I smile, and tweak his nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, curving my back to take one between my teeth.

He moves his hand so he can slip it inside the top of my underwear, his fingers stroking my folds, his thumb circling my clit. I kiss his chest, my hand fumbling now with his belt, and he pauses a moment to help me, loosening his button and zip so his cock can bounce free.

I take it in my hand as he slides a finger inside me, then another, then a third. I stroke his length, just the way he likes it, and he twists now, bending to take one of my nipples in my mouth, nibbling it through the material of my shirt.

Spirals of pleasure circle, and I stroke faster, clinging to his shoulder with my other hand as his fingers piston in and out of me, his mouth sucks on my breast, and an orgasm washes through me.

“Fuck. I’m coming!”

It’s enough to get him there, thick spurts of creamy come shooting out over his leg and the floor.

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling me close for a kiss.

“I’m so luck to have you,” he whispers, his gaze holding mine.

I press my forehead against his. “Ditto.”