eros, logos: Lees

Friday, June 16, 2006

Lees

Weeks ago now and you are gone, but it always takes me so long to capture what's important.

We're at the restaurant, waiting for a table. You're leaning against the wall, and I have my back to you a bit. I am always slightly nervous in public with you. This vibrating line between us means that sometimes i can barely look you in the face in public, I can barely stand to be near you without touching you. I have the feeling of flight with you, and I have also fear: I don't know where we are going, how fast, how far. I know you don't know either.

You reach for me and your hands rest lightly on my hips, pulling me back into you, against you. I love when you hold me like this, I love the freedom your hands have to roam all over me, but I also loathe it, because I can't touch you, I can only submit under your touch. I hold my breath, because I don't know what you want: if you want to grope me in full sight of everyone, you know I won't stop you. I lean back and your lips brush my hair, my neck. One hand trembles for a minute on my hip; I know that what you want to do is slide that hand up so that I can push my breast into your waiting palm. You grip my hips a little more firmly through the thin cotton of my skirt, and I can feel your cock getting hard, pressing a little against my ass.

And now you whisper in my ear:

I want to fuck your hot ass right here and fill you with my come. I want you to feel my come soaking your panties and running down your leg as we walk home.

Now my breathing speeds up, I know you hear the catch in it. I push back into you a little, subtly moving against your stiffening cock. I'm coming undone, and you are too.
There is this way we have, this thing between us, it means that the flame turns up right away. A word, a look, and it's suddenly there, all consuming, devouring. Suddenly I am starving but I no longer want to eat. Why does this happen, why is it that for each of us, our desire veers straight to the utterly pornographic, when it comes to each other? I don't know why, it's something about being inside each other's heads--but it does, and I love it, crave it, you.

I want your hand between my legs now in full view of everyone, sliding up under my skirt. I wouldn't stop you, I'd close my thighs on your hand and come on you, crying out. I am afraid of what you might ask of me, because I am helpless with you, and I know you are with me.

Now you gently push me away from you a little, you tell me our table is ready. I am trembling and flushed and I can't look at the server. I don't know how I'll walk but I do, I can feel that my panties are damp.
I'm not looking at you, I look down at the table and when I'm drinking the wine you ordered you lean over and tell me quietly what you want me to do.
My cheeks burn but you know I won't deny you. I never do.

I get up and go to the women's toilet and lock the door.
I balance on the sink. I pull my skirt up.
Don't take your panties off, you'd said. I want you to just pull them aside.
I want you to come in them for me.

I pull the crotch of the silky fabric aside. I gasp when my finger parts my swollen smooth labia. I am already so hot, so wet. I'm thinking about you fucking my ass, I'm thinking about how you gently ease the head of your cock into my ass, how I cant take more than the head of you yet there, you are too big.
I want you to open your cunt for me.
I want you to take a picture with your phone and send it to me now, here.
I want you to show me your cunt belongs to me.
I do. My legs shake a little, holding myself open like this. My hands shake too sending you this.

You've made me come for you in public before, touching myself in a public place subtly, when you couldnt be with me. You havent asked me for this before though.
Send me a picture of how wet you are now.
Send me a picture of your fingers on your clit.
Show me how open you are for me already.

I do.
I take them all, everything you asked me for. I send them to you at the table.

I can't bear to look at them even, but I know you'll make me look at them later when you take me back to my flat before you give me your cock.

I text you, please call me, please let me come, tell me when.
I am leaning back now against the mirror, and I have two fingers inside my aching cunt when my phone rings and you whisper into my ear, telling me what you want...

It takes a long time for my breathing to slow down. There is a knock on the door and an impatient rattling now of the knob. I put myself back together.

You didn't let me come and you didn't let me wash those fingers. When I am back at the table I hand you my underwear, this silky scrap rolled up into a tight ball. You lean over and take my hand as I sit and you put my two fingers into your mouth. Your lips and tongue closing around them and sucking make me lean back in my chair and I close my eyes and shake as I lift my glass and the wine slides down my throat, it feels to me as if your lips were closing around my pulsing clit, and I don't care who is watching us. What I feel is abandon, and when you lean over again I know what you say is true, and it's only because you alone can get inside my head that it's true when you say to me, your cunt is mine.

Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me. [. . .] and come a stove boat and a stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.
Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Proudly Posted on Blogstormz

posted by O @ 19:43


1 Comments:
At 26 June, 2006, Jstine said… You mean I'm first to comment on that marvelous, cum-soaked, scenery-chewing story? I like the camera-phone touch, though in fact it was hotter to hear about his tasting your fingers afterward. (So much for hi-tech!) O, you damned vixen, you inevitably make me touch myself, confirming the silkydamp (that was originally going to be two words, but I kinda like it that way) -- umm, yes, the silkydamp that you so inspire! Kisses! J
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