I love that time of the day where I get to switch off, unwind, just finish all communications with the world and relax. A story of soothing satisfaction and sensuality.
I switch the world off and he switches me on.
Undressing, washing, changing into something loose and easily removeable I flop next to him on the sofa, exhausted. I am cleansed and natural, hair loose and wild, naked face. No-one else sees me like this, I am vulnerable, almost child-like.
I move closer to him, letting him know it’s ok to enter my personal space. I am sensitive about the immediate space around me, noone enters it without permission. Remnants of long, locked up badness in those boxes at the far corners of my mind prevent movements towards me that I am unprepared for, some parts of me almost ruined.
Broken toy that I am, he is patient and kind and knows my body language. I let him pull me towards him, close into him, snuggled, safe, content.
He slips one hand into my clothes, a familiar movement, not sexual in itself, yet somehow all our touches with each other have the fibres of sexuality entwined with them.
I am laying across him, my head on his chest, his hand gently stroking up my spine, his other hand either laying across me or from time to time, touching my face, stroking my hair.
His need becomes pressing beneath me after a while and I smile to myself. He gives a low huff, something like petulance, and I giggle softly.
We play like this for a time, with soft touches to each other, no more than a few words spoken, just quiet or some background noise to half-focus on.
The motion and feel of his touch on my body lulls me into a drowsy, just before sleep state. Soft, fragile, ready for bed.
Linked credit is given in this excerpt to Cara Sutra and CaraSutrad.com.