Winter is the season of denial, of mornings spent cocooned in blankets. Nestled beneath feather down and flannel, sunlight filtering through curtains. My mind has awoken too early. I can rest just a little longer, slide down deep into sleep once again… But this morning, sleep flees, a fickle companion. Instead, my mind is flooded with recognition of the scent on my pillow. The memory of burying my face in your chest and breathing deep fills me. This morning, sleep can wait. I can find peace elsewhere.
My mind seeks refuge from the winter’s cold in a late summer afternoon. Relaxed and lying on the carpet beneath the window, like a cat in the sun. I surreptitiously watch you, out of half open eyes. I’m daydreaming of your hands, softly hovering over the keyboard. Suddenly envious of the backspace, cracking under the impact of your fingers.
A shadow in my mind remarks that you are always writing in my fantasies. Writing, painting, lecturing… I correct myself. It is not the creative act alone that sends my mind to such dizzying places. It is the voyeuristic pleasure, of watching you think, seeing an idea being worked over and over and over in your mind. Under your hands. Envying it your attention, simultaneously craving the end result.
Sunshine glimmers through wooden shutters, flickering over my bare legs. My nightgown rides up me, as I imagine rolling onto my back. Pretending not to notice that it leaves my thighs exposed to you. I can feel you tense slightly from across the imaginary room.
‘Comfy?’ you ask, voice sliding so easily into my mind. I miss your voice. I miss you.
‘Mmm yes,’ I murmur, my hand sliding up to cup my breast and with that I slip completely into fantasy. Smell the fresh coffee from your desk. Feel the morning rays shine through the window and flicker on my bare shoulders. The house is empty, except for us. A bird calls, and for a moment, I cannot tell if it is in the imaginary city, or calling me back to reality. But it doesn’t matter.
You turn to me, the sun reaching out and sending a familiar shiver of light over your beard. I am no longer surreptitiously staring at you. With a slight grin, I look up at you, lingering on the curve of your waist, the blue green ink peeking out from under your well worn black t-shirt, the smooth skin beside your neatly trimmed beard I can never resist tasting. I lose myself in your eyes and find myself biting my lip as your gaze causes a tingle of warmth to sink from my heart to between my thighs.
‘I thought you were reading?’ You cock your head, suddenly cheeky. You can see the book discarded by me, the sheepish look on my face that I was caught staring, even though I know you hate it.
‘Oh, I was. I just found a more interesting subject to look at momentarily.’ I stretch and make to go back to my book.
‘Mmhm.’ You try to look unimpressed, holding back a laugh. I feel your eyes on me, knowing that as I stretched, my skirt would have slipped up higher. Revealing for a brief moment, underwear was the last thing from my mind. You return to writing… for a moment anyway.
The silence stretches as you pretend to look through a book and I pretend to read mine. The skirt is a little too high for decencies sake, and your eyes keep lingering on the dark shadow between them. You think I can’t see you trying to figure out if you can see that dark whisp of hair. A small shudder passes through me, of cold and lust, as I allow my fingers to graze it, thinking of those gorgeous eyes trying to remove cloth with just a look.
‘Have you read this?’ You bring the book you’re not really looking at over, casually sitting on the floor beside me.
‘No. Looks interesting…’ As I flick through it, you curl up close to me, a hand casually resting on my thigh as you read over my shoulder with me. Your fingers stroke so softly in those gentle circles you do so well, and I feel my legs twitch. I try to keep my eyes on the book, biting my lip slightly to hold back the groan in my throat.
Your lips graze my shoulder as you kiss it casually. We stare at the page, eyes unseeing lines as your hand slips higher and higher up my inner thigh, softly circling fingertips driving me mad. I can feel my heartbeat thump and my body twitch and an ever growing heat. And then… the answer to your question. Your fingers brush up high, sending electricity racing through me as the lightest of touches approach and retreat, again and again, until you can feel the warmth of my cunt and my eyes can no longer look at the book. They meet yours and yet again I am so lost within the golden brown of your eyes. Fuck.
My fingers find my clit throbbing at the thought of you, and in unison, dip down to find myself slick against your hand. Our lips meet and I gasp as you run your other hand through my hair and weave your grip tight, pulling it taut as you kiss me. I can’t help but moan and slip a finger inside myself, eyes closed and mind and cunt filled by the thought of you.
You pull me up to straddle you and in a swift motion thrust my skirt above my hips. I can’t help but buck them back against you, feeling your hardness throb against me. Shirts are thrown aside and my nipples thrill in the feeling of your chest against them. In a swift motion, your belt is discarded and your cock is liberated from the tight confines of denim.
I’ve missed the taste, the silk hardness of you within my mouth as the sweet precum rushes over my tongue. The sound of you moaning below me, enjoying the feeling of every inch of your cock within my mouth, your hands in my hair, your hips raising to meet me. I raise my head slightly, lips close to your cock, whispering just loud enough for you to hear.
‘Would you like to fuck me?’
‘Oh yes. Oh please yes.’ You moan, cock twitching, and I smile, feeling a responding tug in my cunt, and the slickness of my thighs as I straddle you. In this fantasy, we are free from latex. Skin against skin, I’m flowing down your cock as I slowly rock my hips back and forth, hand on my clit, head tilted back towards the sky so you can savour the view of my tits, hand, eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Your hands cup them so sweetly, as my fingers fuck me, speeding up on my clit, as my eyes are closed, and my mind and cunt are full of you. I barely notice the tangle of sheets around me.
I can feel you rise to me, your exclamation that not only are you going to come, you have arrived, that sweet rhythmic climax filling me, pulsing, clenching on my fingers and your cock, your moans filling my ears and mine filling the room. My back arches and I feel my orgasm rise, the erratic spasms on my fingers, the wetness flowing faster over my palm. I fall back, at peace, as you begin to fade against me, holding me close and vanishing back inside my head. I begin to doze off once again, and then jolt awake, hearing a chime.
I roll over and the notification flashes across my screen. Your name against it.
<Good morning sweetheart. I hope you’re safe and warm. Love you lots xx>
After that lazy summer afternoon with you, I promise that I am warm indeed. Safe and warm, nestled in these soft sheets, my breathing slowing as I fall asleep again, and my mind at total peace.