Sometimes, Collaboration Gets… Out of Hand

I’ve been writing this post for a while now. I have this idea in my head, and I keep writing, putting it down in the post and then pausing to re-read it. It seems like every time I do, you just happen to be there sneaking a look.

We finally sneak into the room, avoiding crowds. It’s been an incredible dinner – so much amazing and tasty food – just enough that we’re full, but not enough that it’s uncomfortable. And that wine… it was perfect. We’ve been wandering the grounds, looking at the clear sky and all of the stars, and even catching some of the shooting stars that happen to be whirling by tonight.

man in black and white plaid long sleeve shirt using laptop
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

I have pulled you in close more than once, sitting you on my lap or whirling you around to kiss you as you look up. That amazing look on your face is a mix of this curiosity and admiring the perfect evening…

I whirl you around and pull you in close. You kiss me, holding me there, your hands running up and down my shirt, pulling it free to get your hands inside, skin on skin. There’s this electricity between us, pulling us together….

I sit down on this bench, there’s not a soul around. No one. It’s like we’re totally alone in the world, aside from the stars anyway, and the occasional animal noise of a frog running away. You sit in front of me, facing away. I nuzzle into your neck and can taste your skin, smell your hair, and feel you leaning into me a bit. I can almost sense your eyes closing and just sinking into the moment.

Then you snake your hand around, behind your back and press into me, feeling me, then feeling me respond to your touch. I hear you giggle that sexy playful giggle of yours as you know the impact you’re having on me. I feel you rub, insistently, slowly, then squeeze as you find me, making me instantly hard for you.

I pull you into me, reaching around to unbutton your shirt just a bit, to get my hands inside, to feel your skin – I feel you press against my hands, then grab them and bring them to your breasts. You lean back into me with your head, exposing your neck, your body to me and the night.

I take one of your hands, pressing it between my legs, slowing rubbing myself with it, using you as my toy…

“There, you say, looking over my shoulder. I fixed it. I added the italics stuff in the rewrite. MUCH, much better. ”

You grin at me, kiss me and as you do, you reach down and grab me.

“Meet you outside after you’ve saved it, it’s a beautiful night,” you say, walking away quietly.

Wicked Wednesday

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