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| Blogs > NG879190 > Menagerie |
Sweater
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Sweater Striding into the living room, she saw him<b> lying </font></b>on the couch reading. “What’s that?” she asked, moving to sit on the coffee table. He relaxed his arm and let the book come down to his chest. Pausing to appreciate the interesting way she rested her chin on her hands as she waited for his answer. “‘Contact’. Good book about what happens when humans catch on to alien math humor,” his reply sounding more groggy than he intended. She smiled, not lifting her head from her hands. “You are tired.” Her statement was certainly true, and the sound of her voice did not belie any accusation or teasing. She reached out with one hand and gently pulled the book from his. Standing, she moved the bookmark to the page held with her finger to be sure he did not lose his place. Placing the book on the table, she turned to sit on the edge of the couch before leaning over to kiss him gently on the forehead. “Scoot back,” commanding softly. He made room for her to lay down in front of him, taking note of her attire. She had on one of his henleys. The white one with the missing button, not that she had any need for the buttons. It hung loosely on her as it was several sizes too big, but she was exquisite in it. The soft material draped over her to accentuate her shape without completely concealing it. He thought of how she was the first, and only, of his lovers to have ever enjoyed wearing his shirts. The blush he felt creeping up his neck was thankfully out of her view as she positioned herself next to him. His head lay on the cushion of the armrest and hers laid on his arm. They were facing the same direction as she stretched out before him and wriggled close. Reaching back, she pulled his free arm over her and held his hand. The warmth of hers in his radiated up his arm and through his body. She was going to make him hot, but he did not mind. The feel of her next to him was a welcome trade. The shift of her hair out of his face was her final adjustment before yawning, “tell me about it.” “The book?” His question resembled more of a low growl in the close proximity. He felt her nod quickly on his arm before resting again. He inhaled deeply and set out to tell her about Ellie Arroway and the discovery of the ancient radio signal. She stayed silent, adjusting a leg or her hips occasionally. His voice rumbled softly on as he retold the events of the book up to the point where Hadden revealed himself. He continued on, musing on the possibilities the book had envisioned and Sagan’s ability to posit how humans reacted to the unknown. She didn’t hear him. Her breathing slowed its rhythm and became shallow. The rise and fall of her side lifting against his arm weakly. For a while, he attempted to match his breathing to hers, wanting to fall into her dream. His mind would not let him drift off, however. It raced to mull over idle things in the quiet peace, periodically returning to check in on her before moving on again. The soft snore reeled his mind back to him, and he smiled at her. He relaxed into her, the warm, sweet smell of her filling his head and lungs. With his hand still wrapped in hers and nestled between her breasts, he closed his eyes and drifted off. The dream that came to him came in fragments, like a familiar song with forgotten lyrics. A time on a beach they had never been to with the warm sun pouring onto their skin and the water cooling their feet. The youth in her face was wrong, he felt, but welcome as he leaned to kiss her above the splashing waves. He felt her hum against his lips, the sound and vibration a feature of all her kisses after. Her cool skin tight as he pressed on the small of her back, forcing her against him. They laid down in the sand, continuing their embrace. The passion guiding their hands over each other, it occurred to him that they were nude. She pulled his hand down and he could feel the mound of her sex against his fingertips. The smooth, hairless skin easily letting his hand skate along the curves. Feeling her mouth open wide against his, he began rubbing circles around her clit. She bucked against his hand as he did so, building the excitement in him. Glancing down, the deep blue shadows of the moonlight highlighted the curve of her hip and hid his hand from view. He stopped massaging her long enough to move the blanket out of the way before sliding his hand over the soft hair and sliding a single finger inside her. The sharp moan in his ear pulled him from his dream, and he felt the tight elastic of her panties over the back of his hand. Automatically, his hand did its work while everything came back into focus. She was pulling his head to hers, the kiss vibrating over their lips. His henley was pulled up, exposing one of her breasts being kneaded in one of her hands. The tightly drawn areola making his mouth water. Her other hand was pressing down over her panties, encouraging his wor He could feel her tighten around his fingers as she held her breath. Curling his finger slightly tempt her clit from the inside, the reward was a sharp moan and the squeeze of her legs. He waited for her relax, spending the time moving his fingers through the hair trapped in her panties. It soothed him, the way the patch of hair moved against his skin. Her breathing slowly restoring itself to a more reasonable pace, he chanced a kiss. She met him warmly and opened her eyes to meet his. The flash of her teeth in a cheshire grin melted him. Rolling off the couch into a standing position, she turned and looked down at him. The grin never faded as she shimmied her panties off. He understood the invitation and sat up to quickly shed his clothes. She pulled at his knees and he slid down obediently. Looking up at her and knowing she had nothing else on but his shirt, he was completely aroused. And yet, a spark of humor fell over him. In a half-mocking authoritative tone, he asked, “did I say you could wear my sweater?” Her eyebrows jumped quickly, and she worked her way to sit over him. The tip of his erection found its way to rest just inside of her wet lips when she said, “no, I don’t believe you did.” The response accentuated with a slow downward roll of her hips. |
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