Drifting

He drifted in that warm place between waking and sleeping; that moment when the body is completely relaxed and the mind has a brilliant clarity; that time when nothing hurts and all problems have solutions. He clung to the moment, trying to spin it out as he always did; trying not to move from that balanced edge; not to slide back into sleep; or to fall into wakefulness. All he wanted was to stay drifting on the pleasure he was being given.

At first the hands and mouth ghosting over his body in gentle caresses seemed to be part of the dream world he had just left. But they did not stop as he floated closer to the new day, they intensified. Gentling his skin into soft pleasure, carrying him slowly towards arousal by infinitesimal increments that left his muscles relaxed and his mind floating, the fingers and lips lured him onwards.

Even as the touches became more overtly arousing he still floated, still relaxed and calm, still accepting rather than demanding. Part of him marvelled at that as the mouth traced the length of his hard cock with butterfly kisses, he was content to just lie back and take. He felt no compulsion to respond or reciprocate. It was strange and beautiful to just float and let love whisper over his skin in feather touches, warm breaths and soft kisses.

Desire swelled as slowly as a leaf bud unfurling in the Spring sunlight, glittering through him, warming him, welcoming him to the new day. The licks and kisses intensified so gradually that he almost didn’t notice as he was carried on a warm tide higher and higher. His hands remained loose at his sides as the mouth slid over his length, taking him into the warmth, lips stroking up and down as the tongue painted his contours in approving wetness. The delicate pressure of caresses on his inner thighs opened him to more pleasure so softly and gently that he didn’t even register the movement.

And then there was a blinding moment of tension that arched him off the bed before release snapped through him like a lightning bolt, all hot and bright and electric. And then he was floating limply in relaxation again. Even as the hands and mouth continued to move over him, soothing and coaxing his body towards pleasure once more. He smiled at the smooth stroking inside him of what were neither fingers nor tongue, for they were busy elsewhere on his body, but even that heat and hardness was gentled by the slow slide of flesh against sensitive flesh. The bright waves of completion crept along his veins in a tide of wonder at the very perfection of the moment, washing away the last instant of clarity and the realisation that this was the true meaning of it all. This was perfection.

END

27 May 2007

Disclaimer: All stories on this site are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of any story found on this site may be reproduced or reposted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

© Copyright Mara Ismine 2007

 

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