She came in quiet,
black tights hugging her legs,
a grey sweatshirt draping low,
her laughter stitched in caricatures
of friends she’d left behind in school.
Beneath it, a whisper of color,
blue-green, soft against her skin.
No bra,
her breasts, so small,
yet to him, they were perfection,
a secret shape he longed to hold.
Music spilled from his stereo,
filling the room,
as they sank to the couch,
mouths meeting,
hesitant and hungry all at once.
Somehow she was above him,
hair falling,
kisses pressing,
his heart beating too fast.
His hand crept beneath the cotton,
resting first at her back
and when she didn’t flinch,
he rose further,
sweatshirt lifted,
her arms helping it away.
Her lips never stopped
until she paused, eyes lowered,
a question breathed:
“Do you want this off?”
She meant the tank,
thin, snug, revealing everything
and nothing.
He tried for control,
but his voice betrayed him:
“Not yet…”
though desire burned like fire
to see her bare.
They kissed for so long,
his restraint fraying with every breath,
until he could no longer wait.
Hands trembling,
he slid the cotton upward,
slowly pushing it along her back.
And she—wanting his eyes,
wanting his touch,
wanting to be seen—
lowered her head,
helping him peel it away,
her body bared to him at last.
He froze,
then gasped,
a sound torn from deep in his chest.
Her breasts, so slight,
so impossibly perfect,
made him dizzy with need.
A jolt of hunger ripped through him,
hard and urgent,
like nothing he’d ever felt.
His hands itched to grab, to claim,
yet he held back, trembling,
afraid he might ruin her
if he wasn’t careful.
There she was,
nubile, beautiful,
her breasts barely a handful, but achingly real.
She saw his wide eyes,
the way his lips parted in wonder,
and felt a flush of pride
eagerness blooming in her chest.
At last, someone wanted her
as if she were the only girl in the world.
She was shy—
small, pink nipples tightening
under his nervous touch.
He thanked heaven
for finding her this way,
exactly as she was.
He touched them as though
learning a new language,
her nipple caught gentle
between his fingers,
rising at his touch.
He kissed her there,
mouth claiming instinctively,
drawing her in,
her entire breast swallowed
by his need.
It was his first time,
their whole world
reduced to the soft weight of her body,
her breath, her heat,
the taste of her skin.
And when they finally stilled,
hearts hammering,
they wondered together—
what step would come next
in this tender, trembling
new love.
A firestorm of beauty and passion as I read and this unfolded. Tenderly written with exquisite attention to the encounter told both emotionally and physically in a dance. Loved reading this.
John
Thanks for appreciating the dance…and taking time to leave a comment; I am grateful.
Hoi hoi
Hope this finds you well.
I’ve always thanked the forces, liberating us from the
Love
Love me do
You
Know
I love you
Tyranny.
Looking back his Bobness only went half way…
Beautiful writes like this one do the rest.
Thank you for writing and posting.
Kind regards, Gus
Gus…thanks for the kind comment. I’ll always be true.
A tendering, trembling new love indeed. Everyone can relate to this piece. Wonderfully done, RPM! Into the list it goes!
Thanks Daniel! Honored to make the list!
You can beat a drum and an egg of course but you just can’t beat a nice bit of gentle well stated erotica .. Neville
Ooh, love that comment. Thanks a bunch!