Hard and fast and deep

A text: Do you have 15 minutes?


Yes. What’s up?

Ding dong. I open the door and see you, tapping your foot with impatience. I’m confused.

“Why are you texting me if you are on my doorstep?”

You don’t answer but step into the house and kick the door closed behind you. Grabbing my shirt, you yank it open.

“Hang on just a minute!”

Ignoring me, you shove me against the wall and kiss me. I’m still trying to talk, I push at you but you are very strong and quite determined. Your kisses are passionate and demanding. Your hands are inside my shirt, pulling down my bra. Despite my protestations, my body reacts to you. It always does. I feel my nipples harden and that familiar heat begin to spread in my abdomen.

Then you pinch me. Hard.

“Hey! That hurt!” I try to say, but you put your tongue in my mouth to shut me up. Your thumb soothes my aching nipple and I begin to forgive you. Suddenly, I’m on my back and you’re on top of me. I have no idea how I got here.

“Hold on!”

“No.” You pry my legs apart and settle yourself between them. “You’ll catch up.”

I dream a little dream

I dreamed of you again last night. I awoke warm and wet. I recall snippets of the dream. You, naked and pliant in my bed. Relaxed. Happy. Hard.


Time does not exist in a dream. I am free to indulge all my senses; to explore your body, the way you feel, taste, and smell. I’m free to listen to the small noises you make when I do something you like, when I accidentally tickle you; or the way your breath hitches when I stop doing something you like.

The dream started with me being propped against the foot-board of my bed, looking at you. You really are beautifully made. Your hips are narrow, your legs strong and well muscled. Your arms too. I imagine your long fingers interlaced behind your head. I love your hands. Creator’s hands. Creative hands.

Then the sensations slide into one another as they can do only in a dream. All that exists is you, me and this bed.