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Untitled #1

I’m considering expanding this at some point, though I haven’t really figured out where to go with it. For now, it’ll just rest here until inspiration strikes again.

I love it when you wear that plaid mini-skirt… the white stockings and white button-down shirt… Some would call it the attraction of the “Catholic schoolgirl” outfit; but for me, it’s the sight of a woman in tartan.

It was a long day at work today– or rather, a long night– and I hug you close to me as you welcome me home. I breathe deeply into your auburn hair and smell the faint sweet smell of your shampoo. Nuzzling against your cheek, my lips trail down your neck, nibbling and smiling as I smell the raspberry perfume you know I love.

You arch your head back as I kiss your neck and shoulders, rubbing your back gently. My hands warm as I do so, and I can tell that your muscles are tense. You’ve been working as hard lately as I have– if not more– and it’s begun to wear on you.

You giggle softly as I scoop you up into my arms and carefully carry you into the bedroom, setting you down lightly on the bed. The sun may be up inside, but it is still dark in here, with the curtains drawn. I light a stick of incense– Kyo-zakura, Kyoto Cherry Blossoms– and and candles.

You’ve started to unbutten your blouse as I light the candles, and I pause to admire the view as the last button comes undone and you spread the shirt open to reveal a creamy expanse of pale skin, covered only by your white lace bra.

I come back to you, and kiss you, deeply and passionately, one hand softly caressing your cheek. Giving you a final lingering kiss, I free you from the shirt, and you slide around to lay down on your back.

I start at your shoulders, lightly kneading them with soft pressure, and I hear you make a mmmm of pleasure. I work my way down your shoulder-blades, hands slipping underneath your bra staps, caressing the skin and drawing the tension away. From time to time, I stop, and shake my hands, ridding myself of the tension collected there before I return to you.

After I have worked my way down your spine, I reach up and unclasp the bra, and go over your back again, with broad sweeping strokes. Back up to kneading your shoulders again, then running down the length of your spine. Reaching out to your sides and moving toward the spine, and then back outwards, lightly brushing against your breasts as I do so.

I love the feeling of skin on skin, especially when my heated hands bring peace as well as pleasure to your muscles. When my hands have cooled, I know that your back no longer aches, though I trace over your skin with my fingertips, delighting in the simple sensation.

You turn over, one nipple peeking out from underneath the bra as you do so, and we kiss again. “Thank you,” you say, “that’s been killing me all day long.”

“Pleasure to serve, my lady,” I respond with a grin, and kiss you again.

© 2004 by Aeryn Morgan. All rights reserved.

 

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