Coming back

I've been away for a long time. From this blog, but also from myself. I've been trying to balance the person I'm becoming with the person I was, with the person I want to be. And that's been hard.

But this morning, I feel like my old self again.

I remembered what it was like to wake up in the morning next to someone, memories of the night before still fresh in your mind. I remembered what it felt like to feel insatiable - that writhing, grasping, gasping mixture of pain and pleasure and desire and sweat all mixing to produce such a potent and poignant high that you can't focus on anything but the hands and mouth and skin roaming freely over your body.

And the fingers intertwined in dark hair, pulling my head back to bring exposed teeth to bite down on my neck, harder, harder, dear god please harder. And the growling, scratching, pulling as my hips move of their own accord toward what they clearly want and need fuck me please fuck I need you.

And the blue eyes staring into mine staring back - hungry, starving, for the escape of release. Or the open hand, brought to my neck and up towards my chin, just enough pressure to leave me gasping and dripping. And then back to a mouth on mine, biting, pulling at my lip, then slowly moving down past my collarbone, following my breath to my breasts, as a hand moves down to my hips, still pulsing methodically. So then the tongue follows and I have nothing left to fight with as the world closes in around me and we are all that exists. Until I finally can't take it anymore and you look up at me, smirking and content, and my head is spinning and my breath has left my body and all I can feel is you.

Or the sounds made as my hips move, circular, forward and back, up and down, my breathing in time, your sighs and moans and hands and body underneath me getting me higher and harder. The fingers pinching, scratching, taking a handful of my breast as another set finds its way to my pelvis, and my motions become more urgent. And then the hand on my face, pulling me down to your face as you whisper "bite me. scratch me. harder!" and then my hips move faster as our breathing gets harder and your hands on my hips gripping tighter until we finally collapse, exhausted and glistening and panting and very, very happy.

"Holy shit. We've gotten much better at that," I say.

Polite conversation.

The details on how we got from pleasantries and polite conversation to that couch at 1 a.m. are a little fuzzy. I do remember that it involved a few bottles of wine, a "game for swingers" circa 1972 (disappointing), and hugs which increased in length as the night went on. And strip Twister. But all of that is irrelevant.

She and I were sitting on the couch, leaning on one another. One of the boys who had come over late was heading out, and she called him over to say goodbye. Which she did so with a kiss. And I followed suit. Then she and I looked at one another, and without saying anything, she pulled me to her. She kissed me with intent, but with that softness and sensuality that I often expect from women. The boy we had both been kissing vanished. Both because we stopped focusing on him, and, I've been told, because we pushed him off the couch...when she began kissing me harder and pressed my shoulders down onto the couch, with her seated on top of me. Her legs were on either side of my wide hips, and I remember distinctly seeing her sitting up for a moment, so I could see her gorgeous curves fully.

She bent down to kiss me again, seeming hungry this time. I had just a moment to breathe while she moved her mouth to my neck and began kissing down my collarbone. Her movements were full of intent and, from what I could tell, honest desire. She moved her mouth, her tongue, from my collarbone to my neck, down between my breasts and back again. I was vaguely aware of the fact that we were still both clad in just jeans and bras, passionately making out on The Scientist's couch, in his living room full of people.

I was more aware of it when I heard The Scientist call out "Hey, you should try biting her! She really likes it!" I was about to flip him off when I felt her teeth close down, hard and close to one another, just above the line of my bra. I yelped in what might be the girliest noise I've ever made. She paid no mind to my whimpers, and continued biting and kissing my chest, neck and collarbone. I wrangled my hands free from hers and brought her face back to mine, my hand on her chin. I kissed her deeply, and as she pulled away, I felt her nibble on my lip, pulling it just slightly by the lip ring. As she bent down to go back to work on my neck, I pulled her up to me again. "I can't do this... not in front of an audience," I managed, between kisses.

"OK!" She chirped. In one fluid motion, she had righted herself, had me by the hand, and was pulling me up the stairs, two steps at a time. I think she said something to the group of people saying "awww" as we ran up the stairs. Into The Scientist's room, where she tightly shut the door. And tackled me onto the bed.

This time, I was more prepared. She tried to tackle me, and after some light wrestling, I managed to pin her down on the far side of the bed. I kept both her hands above her head with mine, and leaned in to kiss her again. She was a delicious kisser. And downstairs had been so hectic and caught me so by surprise that I was looking forward to the opportunity to properly appreciate her in all of her feminine beauty. From my position straddling her, I could admire the view: Her long dark hair was tousled about her head in that sexy bed-head way you think only exists in movies; Her face was delicate without making her seem breakable, and her dark eyes were smoldering, even behind her squared, black-framed glasses; Her collarbone showed just enough shadow to perfectly accent and draw my eyes towards her beautiful, ample cleavage. As difficult as it was to pull my eyes away from her gorgeous tits, I followed her soft, smooth skin down to her navel, pierced with a glittering piece of jewelry. Her shape pulled in deliciously at her waist, flowing out again to accommodate her full hips. I marveled for a moment more at her stunning hourglass figure (hidden earlier in the evening by a hoodie), then desperately wanted more. I let my hands slide from hers as I leaned down to kiss her again.

Now it was my turn to aggressively kiss her, biting on her bottom lip, and I couldn't keep my hands off her skin any longer. As we kissed, my hands roamed down to her chest and her waist, sometimes holding on to her hips. It wasn't long before my lips followed, and I took one breast in my hand, pushing her bra out of the way as I brought my lips to her nipple. I heard her gasp and felt her hips rise to meet mine as I sucked and fondled. The noises she made were, quite simply, delicious. I wanted to hear more of them.

Instead, I heard a knock on the door...

HNT: Girls bite, too...

In case you were wondering, yes, I do still hook up with girls. And, yes, girls do bite. HARD.

I was at a party with The Scientist this week where I was introduced to his friends. After the introduction of some delicious social lubricant, I got on with them just fine. Some more than others. The Scientist's best girl friend, who was tall and curvy and GORGEOUS, seemed to be particularly glad I was there.

Especially when she started kissing me, pinned me down on the couch, and eventually led me upstairs to a bedroom. The Scientist came in shortly thereafter, but she and I kept focusing on each other for some time.

The Scientist and I are thinking, perhaps, we should try and bottle whatever the magic is that happens when we're together. Because if we could sell it, we would be MILLIONAIRES.

Or, there's also the possibility that I might be Captain Queer: With the ability to turn anyone in the room just a little queer! (The Scientist's friend had never done more than kiss a girl for the attention of the boys in the room, and I'm now at two different threesomes with two straight men each. I love my life.)




HHNT!

The Reunion (Part I)

I can see you walking in and can't ignore that look in your eye. So far beyond mischief; I know you've long ago undressed me with your eyes and your mind is already racing with the things you plan to do to me. I stand to greet you and my feet make the floorboards creak as I hurry to the door to be closer to you. You don't bother waiting until I'm closer than arm's reach before I feel your hands tighten around my biceps, almost too tight as you pull me in to you. Your tongue forces its way past my lips and searches for a partner. It finds one in mine, and the soft, damp warmth of your mouth is dangerously inviting.
Moments ago my feet left the ground as you brought me, hard, against the wall, your tongue now leading your whole body pushing into me. Your kiss becomes more frantic as you introduce your teeth to my lips, my lip ring, my neck, my collarbone, that soft spot between the two and I can't help but cry out. You stop momentarily to look at me, straight, hard, boring through me and your smirk betrays your thoughts. But before I can reciprocate you have me turned around, my face flushed and warm, pressed relentlessly against the cold wall.
You are everywhere at once. You hold my hands above me against the wall with one of your own, dwarfing my delicately manicured fingers with your rough, short fingernails and the strong palms attached to them. Your free hand makes its way behind my head, sweeps the hair off my neck and suddenly your teeth have set me to fire and ice, chills running down my spine until they are warmed at its base. You grasp at the strap of my tank top, hissing something in my ear about being in your way. I mutter unintelligibly and you press your body harder against mine against the wall.
Your hand reaches around me and takes a handful of my breast, scratching, squeezing, pinching my nipple until I squirm and whimper for you to stop. You grant me no such solace. Instead you abruptly turn me around and effortlessly rid me of the top half of my tank top, letting the lacy top fall around my stomach. Your mouth is on mine again, and again come the fire and chills making my knees weaker by the second. Finally, I can't take it anymore and wring my hands free from yours to throw them around your neck, clutching desperately at your shirt, needing your skin on mine.
Our lips break briefly as your shirt passes over your head and between us and next to the still-open door. I kick it shut as I come back to bite your bottom lip. My nails start to dig into your shoulder blades, and I can just make out a sigh as you shudder and wrap your arms around me, tight. You lift me up to fully meet your six-foot-plus frame, and I eagerly wrap my legs around your waist. You slam me against the wall once more, and your hands move to cup my ass for support and then some.
I barely feel you move until you throw me on the bed, so hard I almost bounce off. As I regain my composure you look at me, and the remnants of the outfit you know I spent days preparing. The perfectly coiffed hair now tousled by your rough hands, the just-enough-not-too-much makeup not hiding the color in my cheeks and my excitement, the strategically planned outfit twisted sideways and halfway down my body. "You're beautiful, you know," you say in the first coherent comment either of us have made since we set foot inside the door. "Now, take off the rest of those clothes. I don't want anything else in my way."


...to be continued...