His Neck

There are days when you walk into a room and I want to let out a scream and bite your neck. God! it’s so tempting. I want to cuddle up to it from behind. I want to dive at it when you wear a crisp white shirt.

I have stared at the sweat beads that park themselves there. I want to lick them after you come back from a game. All sweaty and muddy and dirty. My perfume. My hottie!

At the party, that girl held your shoulders and danced with you. Just when the pace picked up, her hands brushed your collarbone. I followed her fingers.

How could she?

That bitch! I wanted to tear her fingers. But I waited. I saw your annoyance and made my peace. Then I realized that I wanted you completely. All of you. Every single square inch. Especially that neck.

I want to bathe it with kisses.

Tender kisses. Soft kisses. Noisy kisses. Kisses that suck the skin. Kisses that lick you. Kisses that smother you. Kisses that make you smile. Kisses that leave marks. Kisses that make me scream. Kisses that fondle you. Kisses that make you moan. Kisses that make us moan.

Then, that ONE kiss that makes you lose control.

But first, I want to own your neck. All of it.

His Lips

The curve of his lips tempt me. I sit next to him in taxis and wonder what it would be like to steal a kiss. There they are — so full, so luscious and so beautifully carved. So full of flesh, round, soft, perfect.

They scream at me. I wonder what it would feel like when I bite them. What would I do, if they touch me. How would I react?

I would play with the curves. I would plant tenderness when he smiles. I would bite the lower lip and roll my tongue on the inside. I would play with his mustache, perhaps. And his chin? I want to talk to it. We can have intense conversations. But then his lips always distract me. Always.

How do you talk to someone and not stare at the lips?

Maybe, you don’t talk. You just kiss.

 

When He Bathes

…

I lie on the bed waiting for him to walk out. I have imagined him, wondered about his scent and pictured him naked. I have pictured the towel falling off. I have pictured walking in onto him and giving him a bath. I want to bathe him.

I love water dripping off his face. Some droplets stay on his eyelashes. His innocent eyes and the charm within are a delight to look at. I fear getting lost in them. I fear losing control.

I play with my thoughts and wonder when he will walk out.

There he is…

I give a greedy grin. Then, desperation gets the better of me.

I stare at him. My eyes lust after his toes. Those gorgeous things! Oh God…How I want to suck them. I want to plant tender kisses. I want to lick the water off his legs. Find my way to his inner thighs. Hear him moan and then suddenly start licking him.

He will let out a soft moan then. I will smile and chuckle in delight. I know how to turn him on. I will kneel down and wipe him clean. With my tongue. I will kneel down and worship him.

Then he will lift me up and part my legs.

Then, I will lose myself. In him.

 

He

…makes out with me in buses

…overpowers me in public washrooms

…teases me when I try out skimpy skirts in trial rooms

…bites my lips when I watch a movie alone

…pinches my nipples early in the morning

He does this all in my head. All the time.

The day he’ll do it for real, I’ll explode. Every nerve of mine will yell. Every single scream of mine will sing his praise. Every breath of mine will moan for more.

Till then, I’ll collapse everyday. Hoping to be touched.

That thing you do -3

That thing you do ..

To my underwear when you are so full of hunger?

I wish you’d do it all the time

To no one.

But me.

That thing you do – 2

That thing you do ..

With your index finger and my navel?

I wish you’d  do it forever and ever and ever …

That thing you do – 1

That thing you do ..

With my spine, ice and your tongue?

I wish you’d do it forever and ever and ever…