“Teach me” you said. “I want to pleasure you. Show me how.”
I blush. Years of practice have made it easier but I still struggle to tell lovers what I want. How to touch me in the ways that make me sigh and shudder.
“Like this.” A kiss. Slow, lingering, gentle, lips pressed fully together, tongue gently exploring. “I like gentle touch.” My blush deepens, a smile slips onto my lips. When I get nervous or feel awkward, I get giggly. “The tease, the slow touch. I like that. Also wet.”
A fit of giggles. My awkwardness finally got the better of me.
You smile. Deep breath. I settle back onto the pillows and let you explore. Your lips and hands drift down my body, slowly. I close my eyes and let myself sink into the music. Into your touch.
My mind drifts in and out of the moment. A caress under the curve of my breast. A tongue gently flicking my nipple. Fingertips stroking their way past my belly, slipping under my thigh.
First contact. Exquisite. Tantalizing. Satisfying. Drawing a throb from deep within.
Your tongue is my world. Exploring, tasting, teasing. Where will it go next? How long will you keep it from me as you scatter kisses across my quivering thighs? What must I have done in my previous lives to earn my place here, under you?
The cares of the year are a distant mirage. You are an oasis. Lush, between my thighs. No matter how deeply I drink, I want more.
Merry Christmas to me.