Something is pulling, calling toward a… warmth. Awareness flows toward the attraction, toward the warmth from… nothingness.

Hesitation to leave nothingness. Warmth becomes compelling. Okay…

Clarity forms out of the mist, ah, the in-between place. Not asleep, not awake. One of my favorite states.

Awareness flows toward and into the warmth, a cold meteor diving into the center of a sun. Soaking, luxuriating, expanding until…

I feel the edge. The point of contact. The curve of a pelvis embracing my bottom. Nerves awaken instantly, firing, signaling, flowing, growing exponentially as if to explode. 

This time, maybe I will explode… maybe.

Waves of warmth ripple from the epicenter, waking adjacent nerve pathways. Molten lava flows up the spine, and along the way ripples flow to the front gently waking the core and expanding out through my pussy. Little electric sparks beginning at my bottom and pussy converge in the chest. The quickening heart and rushing blood enlivens my breasts, then nipples.

The slowly building waves lap at the brain, an orchestra of sensation searching for rhythm, melody.

A body forms around these ripples and responds. Micro - pelvic rotations stroke the point of contact, the warmth source.

You

With a subtlety of movement - unseen, but deeply felt - I push back into you and feed the fire.

For the moment, thinking is at rest and feeling dominates. I feel through the warmth to you and your heart beat and your breath. Slow, steady. A drum and cello duet resonating through the warmth and through me.

I push back for more.

The in-between place shifts slightly toward wakefulness, expanding awareness; this body, that body. Oh yes, my sweet.  You.

Your arm encircles me, your hand cups my breast. Instantly my nipple hardens reaching out, seeking more contact.

I squirm in this delicious moment. Still asleep, your breathing is steady as I steal this pleasure.

An undulating rolling begins from some deep within. My pelvis responds naturally and begins a sensuous harmony to the rippling warmth.

The slightest touch - my bottom, your warm pussy - and the crescendo rises.

Such a sensitive/sensuous part of this body. Nerves from these rounded cheeks seem to fire first, fastest and loudest drowning out all others, reaching out for more.

Gently pushing back into you, careful not to waken and lose the moment. It’s a subtle balance: stoke the fire, don’t break the spell.

Waves are rising and the body responds. This ancient dance, the movement of heart and mind and pleasure and warmth. It is compelling and can’t easily be denied. There are consequences to denying something so deep and powerful.

Another push back and my spine arches up, out and back into you merging with torso, breasts, breath and…

     a sigh….

Your hand awakens on my breast with a soft pressure and the warmth expands. Your other hand finds my waist and slides slowly to my hip. Resting from the journey, your breath deepens again.

I wait. Silently. Patiently. Still. The touch of your hands are like hot diamonds on my skin, piercing, penetrating.

If I move or breathe it all disappears.

On their own my hips start to move under your hand. Teasing, seeking, wanting more. The desire, wanting in my bottom, demanding, pleading, reaching out.

I feel and hear it often. I rarely let it free, not knowing why. It is a deep need… warm, life, love. It expands in the moment.

The familiar stirring begins, The dragon is waking. Before, I would quickly tame it. Now… I forget why.

You shift and your hand begins to slowly move again, this time toward my warm pussy. Without thinking I roll just slightly so it moves back over my cheeks.

My heart is racing and my bottom is electric.

Your hand rests again as your breathing deepens and I can barely hold still.

The touch of your hand is mesmerizing, intoxicating.

Your fingertips trace lines of fire that expand and radiate throughout my whole being: pulsing in my pussy produces moisture, hardening of my nipples makes them ache. Larger circular movements and the upward spiral increases. Worry of waking you disappears beneath the rising sensations.

I feel your hand make a counter movement and freeze. Your hand continues, slow sensuous circles. I sigh deeply, relieved of the need to move and yet the stimulation increases, even if you are asleep - are you?

Your fingertips add tapping to the rhythm and I remember the first glimpse of them, playing the piano. Even then i  longed to be the piano.

And now I am.

Your fingers play me subtly and progressively stronger. I feel them coaxing more, a little more. Come my sweet, climb the starbeam into the sky. Come play with me.

My hips follow these fingers with the intimacy of entwined dancers.

I sigh, moan. I arch my bottom high off the bed. My pussy is overwhelming radiant heat and damp and that intoxicating perfume of arousal permeates the air.

I hear myself beginning to pant and I am close to becoming lost in it all and… I don’t care any more.

I feel you shift, drawing closer to me, your legs trapping mine. Your lips nuzzle just under my ear and your hand continues.

Realizing you’re awake, I panic. Can I tell you? Can I speak it out loud? What could I say? How would you respond? I can’t even form words….

You unravel the tangled web of my brain, softly blowing in my ear which drives me insane.

“I love to wake up this way with you,” you whisper in my ear. “Your smell, your heat and those sweet, sweet butt cheeks. That’s my new love name for you, sweet cheeks.”

The intensity of your hand increases, drawing, tapping, kneading my bottom cheeks and then…

         a firm slap.

I freeze - afraid to move.

         another slap.

What?

        another slap.

Then the dragon uncoils without restraint. I arch my bottom up and into your slapping hand and squirm and moan.

“I love how this turns you on,” you whisper.

“What… how….”  Words are a jumbled mess.

“Oh, come on, sweet cheeks. You can’t hide this from me.  Which do you love more, this?” 

You squeeze my nipple.  

“Or this?” 

You slap my bum.

A laugh explodes from within and my bottom arches into your hand as answer.

You giggle, “You’ve got the finest ass in the county and I get to play with it.”

I blush deeply knowing it is not true and loving you for saying so anyway.

We fall into a rhythm, your spanking hand on my rotating, arching bottom. The pace increases and I feel the surge…

 and hit the edge..

  and begin to slide, spiral, dance with the stars… 

   until I explode…

    and laugh…

     and begin to cry.

Feeling moisture streaming down my face, I realize the tears are overflowing freely and with them everything held back, pent up, pushed down flows freely.

click… click… click…

I open my tear filled eyes to the source of this clicking sound.

click… click… click…

Pastor is cranking the winch that lowers her flower laden casket into the earth. Behind him, lazy snow flurries twirl on a stiff wind this gray December day. The sky seems endless and only briefly interrupted by a lone, bare tree against the desert mountain background. It looks like a scene from some film noir movie. It is not a movie.

It is life.

I glance down to hands folded around a single white rose laying on a skimpy black dress, hardly covering bare thighs…

     and smile.

Years ago she helped set me free, holding my hand while I slowly stepped into myself… and freedom.

Now, it’s my turn.