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OK....this was my first attempt at erotica.....please rip it apart:
Scented with a fruit exotic, she plays delicately with strands of hair, dark and long, still damp from natures pouring wetness. This subtle gesture, seemingly innocent belies an invitation I well know, and imagine frequently in times of quiet pleasure my mind allows. My gaze seems drawn to the shades of cream at her neckline, the delicate bones under muscles I will soon touch with eager lips. Breath forming the small goosebumps of her body reacting, anticipating.
Tonight will set my path in the stone carvings of descision.Tonight will be what takes her heart away from a troubled and painful past. Tonight will show her what the Gods intended love to be. She has little idea what my intentions are, and so tenderness, and care are at the forefront of my mind.....I will do no harm. My mantra of late.
Eyes lowered to break a spell of my making, she places the fine web of hair in her mouth, she is nervous, and so I sit. Again meeting eyes that place a strain on my heart, the beauty of which destroy emotion in favor of things more feral. I speak her name....soft as a cat’s content purr. Her vision sharpens as attention becomes mine, whispers of things to come dancing behind the banked passion in her eyes. If only she knew what I could do to her....for her, she would have no fear. Only desperate need for this gift I have waited to bestow.
On past nights, I have been quite tame, and reserved in these arts. Testing, hoping to see the readiness, to taste the flavor of desire in her sweat. She was not ready until now; I was not prepared to risk this one chance to be happy.
Opening my hand reveals the deep red of a single rose petal. Placed on fingertip, it brushes the downy hairs at necks nape, causing them to stand on end. Release of breath from her lips directs mine to within static distance of meeting the full red luster of moistened flesh. But the tease at this point is needed, She feels the nearness of my tongue to her lower lip, knows the warmth of exhaled lust.
Petal floating along the lines of her throat, my fingertips feel for the pulse of her passion, never actually touching the skin, but moving the hairs above. Flesh tightens as an electric sensation hardens hidden nipples forcing them into the fabric of her half opened blouse. Control becomes my focus now....as my touch becomes more firm, gently caressing the milk of her neck. Her breathing yet to quicken, I take my time in the exploration of her mouth with my tongues tip, slightly making contact with wet lips, and inhaling the sweet scent of rain soaked hair.
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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