raindrops on roses…

there is this moment during sex.

well not so much during sex as during sex play actually. it’s in fact a pre-sex moment. one that hovers between foreplay and fucking and walks a fine fence as it sits there.

it doesn’t happen every time and it isn’t always delicious even when it does but when it’s good it’s sublime and when it’s not good it’s still there all filled with tacit promise* and expectation.

my favourite of these moments always involve me being a sloppy mess already. puddle under my bum and quivering pussy from masterful cunnilingus and probing fingers.

contended glow on my face and the gentlest sheen on my skin as i lie, itch scratched but rarely satisfied, in waiting for my lover to join me.

it’s especially nice when he’s effectively ready as i finish that first round of receiving the strokes of an eager tongue because then i am at my most messy.

or my most slippery if you will.

and then he moves, places himself between my legs and begins to tease me with the tip of his engorged penis. it helps if it’s engorged, it makes the slippery sliding that much more delicious.

you never last long in this moment, the time hovering between foreplay and sex when you are sliding his arousal up and along your slit, teasing your over-sensitized clitoris and the head of his penis with each other.

the time before condoms if you need them.

the time before, that endless moment where he hovers over you and you feel him there against you and your hearts begin to beat together as your bodies shift and shift and shift again until?

with one sliding move he’s inside you.

okay that last bit used to be true, now it’s more like:

until?

until he slowly begins to penetrate you, walls of your vagina stretching and groaning as you feel him ease his way into your tight flesh. slow strokes starting with the first third of him until a barrier seems breached and with one last push he’s buried to the hilt and you feel filled and stuffed and eager for more.

but oh that time before, when nothing else matters…

it’s better than whiskers on kittens and brown paper packages tied up with string even.

===

* actual moment i booty called my lover

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