Sex. Intimate Eroticism. 11-14-14

The light shines from the crack in the door and the light smell of sweat and leather hits my nose and anticipation sizzles like radio static into tension as my breath quickens and mouths gets really dry, hoping against hope that the chaps he promised to show me were not worn the way they were intended, snugly cupping leather to overflowed cats-whiskers on a well-packed basket of well-worn jeans.

No.

My hope and the dream was for chaps worn improperly. The taste of tannins and salt on skin, slightly warm from the tightness of leather – creaking and straining of tight leather as it cups the thighs without the buffer of denim to soften its sensual impact against flesh. The cupping of perfectly round burnished peach cheeks peeking from atop tight black leather. The slight progressing to noticeable to full erect hardness bouncing as weight is shifted provocatively from left foot to right, hips jutting forward.

My eyes take it all in and warmth spreads across the tips of my ears as I cannot hide, and would not hide my pleasure at all that I behold. Approaching the given gift hungrily, I savor the odd sensation of being fully clothed while appreciating the novel definition of “clothed” just a few seductive inches from my touch.

We’ve played many times before, but the thought never occurred to me to invite him into the bedroom. Our play was usually reserved for other less conventional rooms of the house. Today seemed like a good day to break new ground and to offer new access and comfort, so new comfort was offered.

…and accepted.

Layers of clothes were stripped away. Sighs, and moans and grunts extracted and teased out with almost steaming breath and the taste of leather against sweat was savored and relished. Favorite spots caressed and revisited with hands and mouth and darting tongues and quickening pulse.

But the chaps stayed on.

Even after the tension spiraled upward and outward into franticly spilled release as timing was held back and extended to attempt to reach the synch – the hoped-for moment where two rhythms lock into one and the energy released just washes over and overflows in ripples and waves and tiny, tiny earthquakes.

About gojohnego

Avid foodie and kitchen tinkerer, artist, news junky and political wonk, musician, blogger, naturist, dog-daddy, and owner of a kinky play-space. ...and did I mention I'm single ;)
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