Between the Sheets

You were actually with me. I couldn’t believe it. I had managed to steal you for more than a few hours and I knew that no matter what happened, just having you near me would be sweet enough. Memories only last for so long and the tension, though sweet when we’re apart, was more than I could bear. I enjoyed the feel of your hand tracing the back of my neck under my hair, around to brush my cheek as I drove. We hadn’t gotten out of the city yet. You stole brief moments as we were stopped in traffic, pulling me to you for a kiss. My hands traced the inside of your leg, gripping you when you stimulated me most, by nibbling at my ear or letting your hand brush up underneath my skirt. Traffic was slowed almost to a standstill at one point, and we sat next to a truck driven by a man in his early thirties. He smirked as he watched you kiss and fondle me, and I smiled at him for a moment.

“We’re being watched,� I said.

“No, baby. You’re being watched. Enjoy it.�

Your kisses made their way down the front of my body as your hand pulled my skirt about my waist. I felt your lips on my thighs and then your tongue gently penetrated me, running downward quickly to tickle me and make my leg muscles tighten. My head arched back and I let out a soft moan. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man continue to watch us. You used your fingers and mouth to make me come quickly and brought your lips to mine for a deep kiss. As traffic started to move again, you looked at our audience and smiled. It was going to be an amazing trip, you thought.

We rolled the windows down, as we got closer to the coast to enjoy the breeze, turned the music up, flipping from country to rap, to blues—whatever we could find on the radio. We laughed, talked our of dreams, what we still haven’t seen or done, we talked of how we craved each other, how each of us thought we were the lucky one. We teased, joked, fondled, playfully interlocked hands at some moments and stole a kiss the next. We debated the virtues of driving barefoot and composed poetry a line each for several miles. We stopped at a roadside stand for some fresh fruit and some drinks, deciding on San Simeon for lunch.

You could see about a mile out onto the horizon along the coast, and the brown of the Southern California coast turned to rolling hills as we neared La Cuesta Encantada. The gravel of the tiny parking lot crunched under our feet as we stepped out of the car. You stood there for a moment to marvel at the view and I came around in front of the car to slip my arms around your waist. My chin rested on your shoulder. Nothing more perfect that for two dreamers to spend lunch gazing at something that looked like a castle in the sky.

“I’m crazy about you,� I whispered. You turned to me and placed your hands at my waist to set me on the hood of the car. You pulled me to you and my arms found their way around your neck. We held each other silently for a moment and our lips met—first, sweetly and with a reverence of our love. And then, your hands reached up under my blouse, sliding up my back and we began to kiss more deeply letting our tongues tease softly now and again, mingling for brief moments, until the kiss became too much to bear and we gave into it. We continued, oblivious to anything around us for a few moments, lost in each other’s presence. To get lost in one’s soul is no harder a task than to get lost in one’s thoughts. We had done both for each other.

We spent lunch side-by-side, gazing up at Hearst Castle some moments and lost in each other the next. I was happy to have my hands on something other than the steering wheel of a car and enjoyed aggressively rubbing my hands over your thighs, feeling you harden at my touch. I took advantage of our seat at the back of the café, and unbuttoned your pants, allowing my skin to touch yours for the first time this weekend. I nibbled beneath your ear as I massaged you, letting my hand stroke you continuously for a few moments.

And, then, I stopped. “Let’s make a wager, shall we?�

You laughed. “You are the devil,� you smirked, while fastening your pants. “What’s the wager?�

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Damn, I hate it when she does that–right? Don’t worry. Tonight, I’ll post the second half…

escape, sex, intimacy, lovers, couple, romance