Tuesday, May 30, 2006

A Kiss of Rosé Part One

To me, a woman is a work of art, a delicate flower and hot and sexy tigress, just waiting to be pounced on and licked.

Though I'll always fall to men as my default and most longed for lover, women have also had their place in the various folds of my sexual adventures.

When I sketch, draw or paint - my favorite form and shape is that of a woman. I sketch out the curves of the hips, the bottom, the thighs, I even love to sketch out the delicate sole of the feet and the arch at the back of the ankle. Softly drooping breasts, heavy on the chest and a sight for the eyes. I delicately draw in and rub soft the nipples, the fingertips and toes.

Women are beauty, they are art and Ive definitely have had my fun with them in the past.

Ellie was French like me and very willowy in form. Lacking my Irish and German blood, her form was solely French with delicate bends, sways and curves - just subtle enough to make you glance softly on her body, trying to see a passion radiating from her core, her curves. Our bodies near one another were such a sight. Her soft and sometimes girlish body next to my voluptuous hips, my strong shoulders and large breasts seemed to just make her ever-more soft and delicate. Our small hands always ended up catching together, latching and testing the warmth within the embrace.

Before any of our physical romance began, we were already passionate about each other's minds. After my Sociology class early in the winter semester of classes, Ellie and I were sitting in one of the tree shaded courtyard sitting at a picnic type table and drinking the obligatory cup of coffee. We were arguing about our ancestry, she was very passionate and goading,

You are simply not French enough! her almost eradicated accent flowed softly over the word "French".

What would prove to you that Im French? Im already full of rampant sexuality, look at my sexual habits! And I eat like a bird and always drink coffee...and tea. Stop being stereotypical.

She giggled and pressed a fingertip to her lips. Her smile was wicked behind her fingers and hen her eyes flashed up to mine, I knew what she was thinking. Her expression oozed sex.

Would you give in to any primal sexual need? Like what if...you wanted to kiss a woman? Would you kiss me if the need pressed you?

I bit my lip and nodded slowly at her, my eyes lowering yet lingering on her arms, her shoulders exposed to the sun in the campus courtyard. When at last our eyes met again, her gaze was passionate and I watched in wonder as she came round the small picnic table and sat next to me. My flesh seared when her hand touched my thigh, my skin feeling the heat, it seemed, even through a layer of denim.

Our faces neared as we looked at one another, testing the moment, the heat. When our lips touched, something felt like it broke inside of me, letting a well of pent up lust and emotion in one moment. Though it wasn't my first kiss with a girl, it seemed to be epic and changing as only intimate physical contact can be.

Later that week when we found ourselves alone in her living room, her mother had gone out to do whatever things that mothers like to do on Tuesday mornings. As I sat at the kitchen's breakfast bar, my heels clicked onto the bar in the stool, I wondered how long it would take for both of us to be naked. When Ellie bade me into her room, asking that I help unbutton her lace over-blouse so she could change into a t-tank. I smiled as I sauntered down the tiled hall, my mind wallowing in yet another round of lascivious images.

Once with her, my fingers softly lit over the pearl buttons down her back, small and pink against her bronze, tanned skin beneath the thin pink lace. I kissed the back of her neck as I reached the last of the buttons and made her shoulders rise a bit in surprise. She swiveled her eyes in my direction and looked like a needy puppy, needing affection after a long day alone. My hands seemed so hot as they slid down her back and around to her hips, gliding over her tummy, my fingers linking in front of her as I kissed and nibbled at her neck.

Her sounds were lilted her in slightly husky voice, her throat sounding full and tired. She turned quickly and sat on the bed, pulling me along with her. Our ankles tangled as we lent across our legs, our lips touching and dancing so smoothly together. He tongue was small and hot against mine and my lips, her teeth ever so gentle against my lips, plying them.


This entry is continued here. Yay!

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3 comments:

Wintermute said...

On painting and drawing nudes: a landscape
painter once said to me that landscapes
and nudes where similar. In both cases
you have to establish the horizon. It
was not until I was drawing a nude from
life that I realized he was right. The
first step in drawing a nude, at least for
me, is to establish the outline. As
the artist said, the horizon.

I've always had this fantasy of drawing
a woman and then making love to her.
But I've never done it. I could
somehow see this with you can Ellie.
I can see you caressing her body first
on paper with a pencil, then with you
mouth and hands.

Best,

Wintermute

Fat Controller said...

You've got IT! You write with grace and passion and you know which buttons to press to compel one to keep reading. I've been reading a lot of blogs lately, and for the most part I give up in disgust after about half a page. With this one I am simply aching for more! I've added you to my links.

BTW I also have an MG Midget and have, on occasion, fucked in it albeit at peril of being impaled on the handbrake lever. Your recent post brought back some fond memories .

Anti-Porn From a Masculinist Perspective said...

love. life. sex. youth. adventure. whore.