Message-ID: <15671eli$9809280843@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Sasha Stephens" Subject: ST: Somewhat free-assocative meditations on "The Kiss" by The Cure [m/f] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980928020846.29544.qmail@hotmail.com> The rest of November's stories are available at November's Erotica, a free site: www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Underground/3193 _______________________ Somewhat free-associative meditations on "The Kiss" by The Cure by November Tuesday Lost in the song, undercurrent, spiraling down, black velvet, to that apex pinpoint light of hope. Hope. And you are there, shining. And your gravity is in me, making knees heavy and breath heavy and pulses quickened, heightened, adrenal. He sings, so affected, so carnal, so needing. You are like a cat in your jeans. I want the gravity of being horizontal, you grinding on top. You touch my neck with one fingertip and my head lolls back. My lips are open and ready. You are here. You are here, here, here, at last. Waiting waiting, waiting it takes me forever to pull you to me, to kiss your lips with crushing effort. Tongue snaking in you, dipping into sweetness. My life for you... anything. None of it means anything. Just love me love me love me... love me love me love me... mantra. It echoes down through the rest... Sounds still going down, spiraling down, swirling intensely at our feet as we kiss and you delicately pull up my shirt. You kiss my nipples and I moan and reel and gasp. It's in the breathing; communion of breath replaces words, you shove forward into me and your cock presses tight against me, bone to bone making plain the throbbing flesh in between, almost painful but still I begin that slow grinding dance. I pull you out of your clothes, make you naked next to me, on top of me, in me. Swirling and swirling like dust. Lick/ suck/ bite/ come/ sweat. Sucking the sweaty nectar of your neck, pulling teeth lazily across you. You are loved and light and sweetness and I can't wrap my arms hard enough around you. You spread me apart, reach into me, inside me, coming inside me hard and real and pervading my very brain with yourself, sweet waves of you dissolving in me, moving hot like metal, pouring into each other and back. I grow inside you, taking root, pulling you inexorably in. The drums pound louder and I feel your insistence rocking my body, your vulnerability and louder and faster and I can feel the exact moment of your letting go, of giving your body to me. After, it is silent in a moonlight of sweat and quiet and cooling, quiet skin, and breathing is slow and deep. My hands can't leave your chest, your shoulder, your neck, your chin. There is heavy wetness nesting between my legs, wanting to pour from between lips. I sleep with no want, no wishes, none of the desperation so pervasive that I only perceive it now that it has gone. There is only the rise and fall of your chest, your breath, circular, nourishing you, you, and that is all. I sleep deeply. _______________________ The rest of November's stories are available at November's Erotica, a free site: www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Underground/3193 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----