Fireworks and Stars and Your Touch

I always see fireworks with your touch…

It’s strange to me, how you know just where to touch, just how to tease and how to get all of my senses firing. Your fingertips hover just above my skin at first, moving around my body, moving from head to toe, literally passing over and just skimming every single inch of me.

I twitch as you pass by certain areas, at other times, I can feel my skin reaching for your touch.

Have you seen the sea birds skimming over the waves, never quite touching, but somehow able to rise and fall with the water? That’s you, that’s me, that’s how good you are at knowing me, my reactions, my body.

I feel the energy transfer between us, almost like little zaps of electricity. I move, you move with me. I stay still, you get even closer, pulling the response you need and want from me. These waves run through me, up and down my body as you toy with me. I close my eyes, and I find myself visualizing your hands, fingers, lips as you wander my body.

When I glance at you, you have this grin on your face, it’s a controlling, knowing grin. You’re playing with me, but you’re having such a damn good time doing it. The torture is exquisite.

I feel your fingers at the inside of my ankles, still not really touching, but slowly moving up the inside of my legs. That tingle that shoots up my leg in advance of your touch is in rare form, it’s flying up my leg, racing back and forth to your hand.

Slowly you move up, skimming my skin, electrifying my skin. Up you go, the inside of my knee, the inside of my thigh.

I’m frozen in place now. I don’t want to move. Don’t want to chance upsetting this give and take balance between us. Your fingers glance by my skin, back and forth, at last reaching the top of my legs, that super-sensitive spot at the top of my leg.

You trace around me, not quite touching the very things I’d very much like you to be touching, but not not touching either. The disconnect between reality and what I’m aching for now is jarring. I want to feel your full touch, pressure… I want you to do more, but don’t want you to stop doing precisely what you’re doing – it’s not possible to have both.

Your hand drops to my other ankle, and you repeat the pattern, slowly moving up my leg, skimming over the tops of those waves, completely controlling me while I fight to not go crazy.

…and then you touch me, a jolt of sexual energy explodes from your touch, from just that first touch. I want you to continue, to keep going with all of it. I want to feel your touch, but not. To have go further, but never leave this spot.

I want more of that jolt. More of your energy. More.

Masturbation Monday

8 thoughts on “Fireworks and Stars and Your Touch

  1. Reading this was like you shared those skimming, teasing touches with your readers – beautifully done.

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