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Stove At Night

by Sound And The Messenger 9 months ago in erotic

Cold Floor. The Cricket's Procession


When I slowly made my way to her and our lips touched I could feel ages mix with ages and years mix with years. Past love making sessions, past lives, past sounds. It all seemed to be there. Her moans and gasps and her soft breathe through pursed lips. The lips I now brushed with my own. She smiled, but then her smile disappeared as I felt my tightness that just happened to perfectly slide up her slit.. before pulsing vertical against her soft belly as we faced each other. Chance had left us in the darkening evening both in light outerwear and barely there, but there. That action made our kiss deeper and our brains tickle each other and our eyes make love with one another as we both pulled away and stared into the moment. The stare was one of presence, but also the yearning, the desire to feel our hearts beat down there when we were deep in each other. You could do that we had found out without words, holding stillness, eyes gridlocked struggling not to move yet basking in the delicious agony of pause. Yet, that was not yet and her eyes were not yet far away, but darker mounds, with gentle eyelashes that put an accent to her already feminine features. It felt good to kiss them, feeling their own unique texture and the warmth of her breathe on my chin, which she decided to kiss as it was conveniently located perhaps. Then our lips found each other again. Everything was light, brushes of moments that were yet to come, making our breathes know each of our anticipations. It's then that I turned her around so that she was in front of the stove and the burners we had already turned on and the water was boiling..."So here's the rules" I whispered, to which she nodded and made her sweet smelling hair and sway of her hips let me know that she was in front of me. The cold floor against our feet felt nice by a warming stove, the soft silk of our clothing being the separation barrier of me pressed up against her warm lower back. She seemed to sense this observation of mine as right then she traced up my calf with her foot and smiled..."So what's the rules you tease".. "alright" I poured the potato starch into the pot and it splashed a little as it hit the water. "The deal is we're not allowed to start until this is ready and we both have to take turns stirring." The heat increased on the stove and I started stirring, the rhythmic clang of a spoon hitting the bottom of the pot in a circular motion, being the only sound as we waited for the liquid to become thicker and slicker. She then took over as I kissed the back of her ears and tasted her a little below. She gasped when I did this, making my other hand want to reach around and find her lower, but not yet, we weren't ready. Slowly and then faster the liquid became thicker until I flicked the stove off.. "Now we need to wait for it to cool down" I said and kissed her. I could tell how wet she was by the wetness of her mouth.. or was it her tongue.. or was it her breath or was it her soft coos or was it her wandering hands brushing up my upper thigh soft, gentle, torture. I wonder if we both heard the clock making its ticking sound in the otherwise empty kitchen, or did we hear the refrigerator click on and start its cooling cycle? Moments passed either way, the last light of the day slowly disappearing, accelerating the cooling mixture in the pot... "Do you think it's ready?" she half gasped and teasingly made out through separated lips and between kisses.. hand growing nearer and higher on my leg.. "Alright let's check"... The mixture was cooled, but slightly warm. It was time I concluded. with a now wet, slightly warm, slick finger I found her little slit beneath the silk and traced a wet line up her and she impatiently reached in and found me and there was her soft touch circling my top that let me know we had to find something soft to lay on. "How do you hold a moment"? Perhaps both of us were thinking. This thought trailed on as we both found the soft bed. It felt good that both of our clothes were still on. Torture felt good somehow. I thought of moments away from her and the feeling of what the last touch had felt like and how it had already passed and the happenstance of that, the quality of that, the progression as everything weaved onwards, like the clock ticking in the room we were just in. It was then that I didn't notice an adjustment to my pants and a slight shift of her weight and her mouth dipped around me and I could only play with her soft hair and run my hands down her back as everything was immersed in slow building warmth. Her tongue swirled around my tip with her lips still holding on, looking to pull what it wanted. I thought of that drive thru carwash in town with the brushes rolling up against the side of a vehicle, plunged into coolness and calm and washed and relaxed, mind instantly into silence. This thought came as I played with her hair and I found her small ears peaking through. Enough was enough though. I wanted to taste her now. I found her head with both my hands and reached into to feel her lips and mouth again, only wetter because of her play time session now. Again she could probably feel me pressed against the soft of her belly as she started moving her hips and I did too as I laid on top of her, continuing to play with her hair, play with her lips with mine. Her soft breasts pressed softly too into my chest. There's no deeper moment that I realize she's a woman than in that pause of time. Just a little down and then up and then I think I'd be in, deep in her, what both of us wants. Her breathe is quicker, her hands massaging my lower back, her hips trying to beckon me lower and almost succeeding, the last of our silk clothing couldn't prevent that, both of us know. It's too loose and open. She's trying to inch up the bed to give me soft entry. She pulls the bed post with both hands to pull her up. Her eyes are now deep and black and far away. I lift off her and and find her soft mound with my tongue right before she would've found me. Gosh I love her taste. "Baby you are so wet" I say as I lick up her again. One hand feels her stomach rising and falling deeper.. "umhmmm" she makes out in her reply. We're both getting lost. I love the little dot at the top of her that sticks out now, peeking out of her folds. Flicking my tongue over that or digging deep in, I can 't decide what I like most. Perhaps a finger feeling in, while flicking too. It's sending her over the edge. It's then that she reaches her hips up and her gasps let me know I'm ready too. Climbing up on her once again her hands soon have my pants off and her touching, light hands grasped around, pumping me, wanting, circling my head again with soft nails. Her kiss I find again and I find her lower too as she eases the grip of her hands as she'll grip in a different way soon. "Gosh I love tracing my head up and down you baby".. there's just a head nod from her and a soft moan as I glide up and down the edge of her opening and then there's a push and we're in deep. Her eyes flutter black, her hips trying to suck what she wants immediately, me moving slowly trying to slow everything down, my hands behind her head, guiding myself in, feeling her breathe on my cheeks when we aren't playing with each others lips. Both of us are lost in our sex.

Then we pause, caught in time, clinging onto a moment. There's something about no movement that is better than movement. It's similar to laying on the bottom of a shallow sandy ocean floor and then peering up at the glassy surface that is secretly hiding the sky above. Sometimes when we're still she reaches up to kiss me and she pulses below on me, holding on, a grip from her other lips. We could hold that for a night I feel, fall asleep hard in her and wake up the same way, the first moment of wakefulness being a gentle back and forth, resume where things were. It has happened before with late night love makings sessions, deep into the dark night, coming out of each others dreams into movement once again, slow kisses, early morning sounds. Right now though it isn't that and we start moving against each other again, quicker. She's getting close again. I don't know whether I want a tongue on her breast or her kisses so I alternate. I feel a tingling and a warmth that lets me know I'm close too. We feel each other. She's bringing me closer as she hugs me with each rhythm. It's working. "Keep sucking me with your pussy baby" her heart beats fast. I imagine what it looks like far above us as we move together on the sheets. I imagine how all of life pulses to the same dance. The pressure builds in each of our heads. She starts shaking under me.

Then there's afterward. One final bird saying goodnight outside. Sweat bands on each of our foreheads. She rolls over on top of me and gently rocks her hips taking the last movements of me slowly, letting calm settle in, leaning in and kisses and then a sweaty cheek on my chest. Evening creeps into night once again and the next movement is the crickets procession starting outside.

Sound And The Messenger
Sound And The Messenger
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Sound And The Messenger

Hello and welcome. Creativity shows itself in a myriad of different ways for me. I intend to get out of my comfort zone on this page, be vulnerable, share truth, seek truth and look to help the world through these facets.

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