Journey to the Center

One finger traces the bottom of her ribs around to the front. It is met with no resistance. On the contrary. Her eyes open. With lips slightly parted and breath she is having trouble catching, she lets him know what she wants. Their mouths meet once more. Her graceful fingers glide along his wet arms. Her touch grows more firm as she feels his strong muscles move under his skin. Her hands encircle his arm. They are too small to reach all the way around, but that isn’t required here. Just touch is. Tactile sensation. The more the better.

Clothes are a hindrance to this. His hands keep moving under her shirt, on her back, on her stomach, occasionally even lightly brushing the edge of her breasts. Her small t-shirt clings to his hands as he does this. It makes things more difficult, but he dare not remove it. She fumbles to find her way under his shirt. His mouth gently probes the sensitive spot where neck meets body.

Her eyes open once again. An unasked question passes between them. It is answered with a slight nod from her head. The return to kissing again. His hands come outside of her shirt. They hold the bottom hem, one hand at each side. Slowly he lifts them to reveal her ivory flesh. She goes to do the same to him, but he lets her know not yet. It is too much of an interruption for him to bear right now.

He bends slightly to examine her breasts more closely. He looks at them both before deciding which one he wants to start with. The left one wins, but the right will not be forlorn long. She can feel his breath on her breast. His tongue deftly flicks her pert nipple making it even harder. The right reacts similarly as it is rolled between his finger and thumb. He takes the left into his mouth. His suction is as strong as hers was earlier. Moans turn to near screams. He brings her closer and closer to the edge.

The right breast is left alone as his hand has other things it must do. He unbuttons her shorts and they fall to the ground. She steps out of them. His hand finds a new kind of wetness. It isn’t cold, but warm. It is warm and soft. His hand probes her delicate folds until he finds what he wants. She practically explodes as soon as he touches it. She does scream. She can’t hold it back any more. The rain and even the thunder cannot drown her out. When she stops screaming, he removes both his mouth and his hand from their respective locations. He brings his finger to his mouth to taste her sweetness. He licks off every drop. The sight of this turns her on even more.

She quickly removes his shirt. His shorts offer a bit more difficulty. He helps her unbutton them and get them over his now throbbing erection. She wants a taste, but so does he. He wraps his arms around her and brings her tightly against him. Their mouths probe each other. Their chests meet. They can feel each other’s heartbeats which start to beat in unison, even skipping a beat together. Arms wrap around backs and continue moving up and down, necks to buttocks. Feet explore lower regions. Pure tactile sensation has been achieved.

Almost. Their eyes open and meet once more. Another unspoken question passes before them. No nod is required. Her eyes say it all. With a few adjustments of the hips, pure tactile sensation, outside and inside is achieved. Her internal warm is in direct contrast to the cold rain that covers them both. Covers all of them, but those parts that are pressed against their counterpart, protected from the rain, both sharing the other’s warmth and generating more of it. The man will add more of his own warmth to everything in a little while.

They continue to kiss. Their hands continue to roam. Everything is in perfect synchronization, a complex dance that both know in their souls. The movement of his hips are reflected in the movement of her hips. Neither leads or is lead by anything other than the tiniest signals that would be unperceptible to anyone who watched. The tightening of walls of her vagina, the hardening of his cock. These let them know what was going on and what was about to happen. As spasms are felt throughout her entire body, originating inside and spreading outward, he lets his own join them.

She clings to him, barely able to breathe, let alone move. She opens her eyes and looks at him. She doesn’t have the energy for a full smile, but the one she attempts means even more. His hand cups her face as he brings his lips to hers very gently. He brushes the wet hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ears.

They stay like that, the rain streaming down their naked bodies for a while, neither wanting to move or break the silence. The woman doesn’t even sigh now. She just regains the strength to be able to give him a real smile. He kisses that smile. First it is very lightly. It grows in intensity as he picks her up.

He carries her to a cabin she didn’t know was even there. He lays her down in front of a fire. He notices that the fire causes her skin to glisten. His finger traces the beads of water on her skin like it’s some big connect-the-dot game. This sends shivers through her. He looks around. Then he stands up and goes over to a nearby chair. Sitting on it is a towel. He comes back and brings the towel. Then he sits next to her recumbent form. He goes to erase his imaginary lines. Her hand comes up to stop him.

“But, you’re all wet still,” he says. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“The fire will dry us,” she says stretching like a kitty cat. To complete the picture, she begins to purr. “I don’t want anything between us. Not even a towel.”

The man takes her glasses and dries them with the towel. Then he replaces them on her face. He tosses the towel in the direction of the chair. It falls short of its mark, but no matter. It isn’t important. He has what is important right next to him. He returns his attention to her and notices she isn’t wearing her glasses. His puzzled look asks the question before his mouth can.

“Don’t need them now,” she tells him. “Not like they were doing much good outside anyway. Hard enough to see through that rain without glasses. With them, pretty much impossible.”

He has to agree with her as he takes off his own. He can see well enough without them. He can tell the fire is doing a nice job drying her off. She isn’t glistening so much now. The amber flames dance across her body making her glow. He looks at her. The fire isn’t the only thing making her glow. He’s never seen someone so beautiful before. 

He lies down next to her. She rolls over so that her body can cover his as well as her slender physique will allow without her being actually on top of him. Her head finds its place again. Her hand rests on his chest. She can feel the beating of his heart. Her fingers lightly tap out its rhythm. The sound of life.

Her eyes close. He doesn’t mind this time. The rise and fall of her chest let him know that she is relaxed and drifting off to sleep. He gently kisses her forehead. Then he reaches behind him. There is a couch there with a blanket on it. It is barely within reach. Barely. He has to stretch, but he does retrieve the desired object. He spreads it over them both. It isn’t between them, but between them and the world.

The rain still falls outside. Thunder is heard and lightning is seen. Rivulets are carved into the earth attempting their futile journey. Inside a new journey begins. This one is not futile. Body to body. Heart to heart. Soul to soul. Nothing is more important or productive than the journey to the center of another human being. They both fall asleep to meet again in their dreams where the journey to the center can continue.