You Know This Lover

 You drive through the night, the only sound your tires singing on wet black pavement and the rhythm of your own heart. You watch your small hands griping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles are white with anticipation. You are amazed, why should you feel this tension? You have done this many times. This is no new experience, you know this lover. This is no single night’s lust with a stranger. This is more than your lover you meet this is your love. But then you think.

"Can I ever know this man?"

"Will I ever understand the complex folds of his erotic mind?"

“Learn to ride with command the wheel of his passion?"

You think not. He leaves you breathless.

Always a step ahead yet never leaving you wanting, drawing you deeper into yourself.

There have been times when you felt certain mastery. Felt that at long last you had reached a point of comfortable predictability. Even thought a trifle smugly of the accomplishment. Then in a gleam of his carnal eye your world reeled in a flurry of pleasure that you had not even dreamed existed.

Still you know this lover, you know to trust this lover, He would never lead you to harm, never betray your faith in any way. You may not be certain which of earthly road he will travel, what winding amorous path he may embrace. But you know that you will follow without hesitation, as your desire’s perfection is his completion.

A fleeting scent of your perfume touches your nostrils. Reminding you of your preparation for this night. From the moment your phone rang at noon you have been preparing. Choosing the clothes, scents, and colors for your encounter. So simple his call, laden with promise. No hello, Nor even a simple goodbye. None of the usual endearments you have become accustomed to. You answer the phone, your mind racing on the million different paths the responsibilities of your day demand. You hear his voice, a room number, motel then the hollow click of the receiver. Nothing more, not waiting for your reply, he does not require your assurance, he knows you will come.

You know this lover, but not as he knows you.

A slightly nervous laugh escapes you. For the first time you understand that he is already making love to you. He has been doing so since noon. The thought fills you with love and admiration. Heat rises in your loins as you press your narrow foot down farther on the accelerator. The road has become your antagonist, the dark rival that stands between you and your craving, seeming to grow as you devour each mile. The drive only an hour from the city feeling like a lifetime quest for rapture. You wonder why so far? Then again realize the extent of his devising. He knew! He knew you would go from nervous anticipation to barley controllable lust in this time. He is in the car with you, making love to you even now. Stoking your fire, fanning you to the point of incineration, without even touching your body. The wetness between your eager thigh’s attest to his success. The scent of your own musk begins to mingle with the scents you applied for him. You know he will not mind. It is your scent he stalks, this master hunter. Your instincts he studies. Your womanly need his prey. Your heated flesh he will consume. The dark countryside rushes past you. Open fields reflect the moons glow from rain dampened crops. The silhouettes of Oak and Pine stand sentry over you, guarding this prey as they have guarded prey for centuries. But this prey seeks the hunter. You feel your heart quicken, pulsing in your throat. The harsh glare of neon cuts the tranquility of the countryside. So harsh and out of place yet so welcome. You and your lover have passed this small motel many times, you never paid it much attention. It seems he must have, he is always thinking this love of yours. As you pull into the gravel drive you see his car with satisfaction, even love, you thank this mindless machine for carrying him safely. Parking before the aging room more desirable to you now than a suite in the finest hotel in Paris, your senses are enchanted with the silence, the smells of the country. Newly mowed hay, pine a thousand sweet textures of scent waltz with your desire. They play in the deepest folds of your mind. In this place of solitude you have no responsibility, no job, no stress. You are simply a creature of nature doing natures bidding. You enter the room locking the door behind you to shut the world out and your passion in. You say no words of greeting, nor does he. You do not even look for him in the dim light. You have no need, You know it is your lover, his sweet aroma fills you. Slowly he moves behind you licking the back of your neck while his hands move under your blouse massaging your soft flat belly before moving upward toward your breasts. Closing your eyes you bend your head forward your breath becoming deep and slow as your nipples harden beneath his touch, the palms of your hands become moist and warm with anticipation. Gently he removes your blouse kissing, nibbling, and licking each new bit of skin he exposes. Sucking your breasts into his mouth sometimes soft and moist, occasionally demanding, flicking your now fully erect nipples. Sliding his accomplished lingua between your cleavage he moves downward leaving a trail of pending elation on your skin, stopping only for a moment to lick your navel as his hands slide up the back of your smooth bare legs and begin massaging your buttocks. He chews on your pelvic mound with hunger and your tight skirt becomes wet with his saliva and the readiness flowing from your need to be his feast. You live in a body solicitous for his touch, his tongue, and his entry. Your eagerness will not rush his banquet, you know you will have to wait. You know this lover, you know he has no desire to quickly take you, drain his passion at the expense of yours and go. This lover wants to play your body, explore your deepest desires at times gently and tenderly teasing you to joy. At other times demanding and forceful making you to submit to the primal passions that dwell beneath the surface of socialized conduct. He runs his tongue along the cleavage of your toes, then removes your pumps, licking your feet sucking on each toe one at a time then very slowly rises up to unzip your skirt sliding it deliberately over your hips while kissing the front of your dampened panties. Sucking your elixir through the silk, before pulling them down your shuddering legs with his teeth. He stands removing his touch to drink the sight of your naked body with eyes that thirst. He is still fully clothed and you stand unconcealed before him feeling vulnerable and exposed. His arms at last enfold you pulling your body weak with need to him. His mouth feels hot on yours his breath sweet, deeply kissing his prey. This hunt is over, this prey is his, your body has once again betrayed you, led you to his side, forced you to eagerly cast your flesh to his whim. You melt into his hard chest, rejoicing in the roughness of his clothing and the delicacy of your nudity. He lays you face down on the bed and you hear him remove his clothes. You wish to turn and look, to see the muscles move beneath the hair of his chest, to pay visual homage to his hardness and envision it penetrating your anxious femininity. Still you resist the temptation to gaze at his masculine splendor. You know this lover you know his moods and tonight he doesn't want you to think, only to feel. To flow with the sensations he will give you. The fate of your passion is in his expert hands not your own. So you lay face down in scarce contained anticipation and wait. You feel a shock of warmth as he pours heated cherry scented oil on your bare buttocks letting it run between your rear cleavage seeking your depths. His warm hand explores you. Slowly slipping an oil slick finger into your rear passage, letting you savor the intrusion, stroking you long and leisurely allowing you to feel each slow caress. You can think of nothing else save his finger violating your most private space. He removes his finger and his tongue now moves to the cleavage of your seat moving deeper with each pass until he begins licking the sensitive opening. Delving deep inside, soothing you with his heat while massaging your woman’s pearl with knowing hands, slick with sweet scented oil. Your breath enters in short deep gasps. You moan lost in a world only he knows how to create. Without shame you reach back with both hands spreading the cheeks of your behind. Pressing toward the giver of sensations that lavishes lingual veneration on this potent bundle of nerve endings. Your delectation is enhanced because you know that not only is your love willing to delight you in this way. He does so with a hunger born of appreciation for each texture, scent and reaction of your existence. Your skin burns with the fever of arousal, though you do not notice it the blush of passion has formed patterns between your breasts. A glistening sheen of sweat forms on your naked back as your world becomes more and more focused. There are no problems to solve no bills that need paying. At this moment there is nothing but the sheer joy of sensation and adoration for the man that now devours the most private portion of your body with untamed abandon. You feel your need rise toward the moment of completion. He feels it too and holds you there. His tongue and hands expertly keeping you on the verge but not yet willing to let you fall into the well of release. Moments feel like hours as your body swirls in the winds of sensuality. You moan in yearning as he removes his touch. Your breath shallow, waiting, knowing not to look, your ears seek his intent, his quiet movements, the sound of a plastic chest opens then shuts, a rustling of paper, your anticipation mounts. His hand in your hair gently pulls back your head, a chill on your cheek. You quiver as now his intention is revealed. He offers a cherry Popsicle to your lips. You suck it deep into your mouth as if it were he, it soothes a throat parched from the passing of heated breath. He strokes your soft mouth with long cold strokes, allowing you time to contemplate your fate. Removing it from your mouth he returns to your buttocks rubbing the sweet ice on your flaming cheeks. Cooling them allowing your heat to melt your lover of frost, running in cool trickles into your heated crevice. You feel it parting your cheeks probing deeper, slowly seeking your opening. You clutch the blanket in both apprehension and anticipation.