Dreams or memories?

It's not spring yet and I feel the definite stirring of warmth and movement in my blood. My dreams have turned to subjects both hot and redolent with the scent of spent and still spending passions. Last night was no exception.

The first thing I felt was surprise at seeing him. We stood inches apart, I waiting for him to move and he waiting for some internal sign that what he felt was real, those few seconds stretching interminably, both of us holding our breath, my eyes questioning and hopeful, and his eyes blazing bright and full of emotion. He had asked for time and I gave it gladly, certain of what I knew and the words we had shared. He reached for me and I melted against him, reaching my arms around his neck while his arms pulled me against him, curve and hollow fitting as if fashioned for each other. He murmured the words we had sent spinning along electronic pulses against my lips as another deep connection was made, unmade, and made time and time again, the words echoing in our twinned heartbeats. Dressed in fall warmth, he still in his jacket, we were suddenly too hot and too cold, merging heat and desire long delayed and even longer denied.

I rose on tiptoe and felt the throbbing swell of his need pushing, probing, nestling against flushed, swollen, sensitive lips yearning beneath imprisoning cloth. Breathless and eager we pulled apart, eyes locked, seeking, searching and finding mirrored thoughts no words could adequately express. Once more he captured me against the solid strength and safety of his chest, hearts fluttering in perfect time, kissing me and murmuring those simple words again and again until we were both drunk and reeling, laughing, crying, breathless.

We walked to the safety of the living room where bright sunlight shattered the soft silence, warming bird and animal throats in a hymn of joy in being alive. Quivering with excitement we talked, kissed, touched, discovered, memorizing each other in rich sensory detail, dipping again and again in the taste, smell, sight, sound, and feel of new and yet well known territory, certain of what lay beneath our clothes.

His long legs were not made for my love seat and love was hampered by the lack of space, so I led him to a more comfortable arena, tucked away in the back where glancing rays of sunshine glistened on views of towering pines, blue sky, and snow-tipped peaks.

--To be continued...