A Long Slow Seduction

Other women want him. I've seen it the way they flirt with him and talk about him. They intentionally twist his words into innuendos. They brag when they have the opportunity to see and touch him.

What makes him so extraordinary? What is it about the man that makes me fantasize about meeting and seducing him?

How is it possible that the most innocent words on a screen can make me hot and wet? He scarcely knows I exist save for the odd blog comment and twitter reply. And yet I want him. Want him with a longing that transcends anything I've felt before. Surely it's ridiculous to want someone I've never even seen in person this much.

He writes nothing more than the most general aspects of his daily life. Nothing suggestive. He keeps his personal life private. But his words touch me. Cerebrally? Sometimes. Like a jolt between the legs? Often, upon later reflection of him.

So many nights I lay there touching myself, dreaming about his hands on me. His warm breath caressing my skin. His tongue touching me in the most intimate of places.

So many blog meetings to choose from. The opportunity to be in the same place as him exists. And then? Would I play the shrinking violet or the smoldering temptress? So easy to write the temptress. Easier still to act the violet. A lack of confidence consumes me. My writing focuses on sex, and yet the authoress has none. A brief stint, then simply resorting to theory and reminiscences.

What would I like to do with him? I think one full day and night would suffice. 24 hours to know him. To take my delicious time with every delicious inch offered. I really don't think it's too much to ask.

The first touch- exquisitely prolonged, before a shred of clothing has been removed. A hand? A wrist? Running a finger down the nape of his neck? Teasing my nails through his hair? Breathing in his ear and flicking my tongue across his earlobe?

The unbuttoning his shirt one at a time - not tearing it off in the heat of passion, but slowly revealing more skin in tiny increments. Touching his chest a little bit more with each successive opening until it is finally off altogether, and he stands there exposed. Open to my explorations. With my hands lightly touching his back, his ribs, his nipples. My nails grazing and teasingly scratching.

My lips long to taste every inch of him. Tongue and teeth tease him while his nipples get hard and hot. Licking along his clavicle, feeling him gasp and reaching to touch me and pull me in closer.

To kiss him long and deep while massaging his shoulders and back. The finally pushing him onto the bed, onto his back so I can straddle him and run my tongue down his ribs and stomach. Further and further down towards his belt.

I would take off my blouse, slowly. Letting him have time to enjoy the reveal. Then off with my bra so I can lean over - running my breasts down his chest. My nipples getting harder and practically begging to be touched and sucked.

To feel him grown harder beneath me, I would lean over to kiss him again - flesh against flesh- our legs entwining together. Our tongues exploring each others' and his hands reaching up to grip my back and bury themselves in my hair. Feeling him pull my head back and my back arching in response- our pelvises grinding against each other.

For the moment, that's all that I would need. Naked torsos, lips, tongues and teeth. Hands touching and massaging. Legs opening to each other. Groins pressed up together, getting harder, wetter and hotter. This moment alone can be dragged on for hours - there's no need to rush at all...

All I want is to savour each gasp, each movement. To truly be in the moment and relish each time his fingers tighten and when his body unconsciously opens itself to me.

I want to own him - to possess his desire. To command his lust. I want to wipe his mind clean of every other thought - to create in it one single-minded purpose. To want me. Only me.

His hands, his cock, his tongue crave only my taste, my touch. Only my cunt will provide him with release. We must consume each other.

As my cunt throbs at the very thought of him, as I drip with heat and desire, as I ache with wanting - so I want him to reciprocate a thousand-fold. My obsession isn't enough. I want the very thought of me to create in him the same depths of arousal, of heat of hardness, or pure unrelenting blinding lust.

Kissing him, tongues hot and thrusting, nipples against each other, hands exploring, legs entwined...suddenly this isn't enough for me.

I untangle my legs from his and before he has a chance to think or respond, my hand reaches up to massage his groin. Not tentatively. Not asking his permission silently - but hard. Demanding a response. Insisting on an answering groan and gasp of surprise. He knows what I want.

I crawl down towards his cock, licking and biting his nipples along the way...

Not a word has been spoken between us. What could we possibly say that would evoke the reaction I'm seeking? "I want you? Fuck me?" Words are inadequate. Nothing can express the fire he ignites inside me. Only action can demonstrate my need. Only the feeling of tongue, teeth and flesh against flesh can ever come close to creating the demanding response that I long for.

I unzip his pants and release his cock. It is hard, hot and larger than life. I've thought about this moment for what feels like an eternity.

Finally.

I lower myself down and give it the taste that I'd only imagined until now. As I hear his initial gasp I feel my power...