The Lifting

Basking in the glory of pleasures with which we met the dawn, your breaths became slower and deeper as you melted into Egyptian cotton covering the lofty feather bed. The down comforter floated across our bare flesh, lightly teasing my pulsing thoughts to savor every sensation I could possibly capture in the quiet sounds of the morning.

Rhythmic heat flooded any concentrated effort toward slumber. Peacefully sedated, you were unknowingly at my mercy as I nuzzled closer against your warm side. Bare body parts found their places: The smoothness of my inner thigh clinging to yours; my calf resting on soft hair of your shin; toes comfortably intertwined. I tossed my arm across your chest. Cupping your chin with my hand, I gently pulled your face toward me in order to inhale my own scent still sticky on your face.

My other arm insisted on staying pleasantly immobilized between our hips. My fingers lingered on the threshold of my own moist folds as my mind and body united in understanding, embracing each intensifying movement before approaching the next. Making an arguable attempt to enjoy the incongruous solitude of secret pleasure, I simultaneously advanced toward a more desperate exploration to which it rather excited me to imagine your response should you awaken in the midst of the event.

I taunted my opening with the tip of my index finger, allowing a flat portion of my wrist to press firmly against my alert and wanting clit. My swollen lips welcomed each flicker and thrust I offered. In the stillness around me, I was re-awakening from within, mesmerized with the passion of attending to my personal sanctuary in your oblivious dreaming presence.

My folds grew thicker, the stickiness warmer and wetter. The gentle prodding and pressing was no longer enough. I had to grasp my lips harder, firmer, even pinching them in delight. I grabbed at myself, thrusting multiple fingers in to play together in perfect harmony while my palm jiggled faster and harder against the haven of nub.

Sweetly agonized, I controlled the rising pressure of desire as my fountain spewed in waves of heat and ecstasy. With face askew I squirmed against my hand - begging for mercy as much as for more - teasing myself to a higher plain. Holding back, then quickly turning the volume up yet another digit or sometimes several at a time to continue the gorgeous journey of self pleasure.

I turned fully on my back, close still enough to feel the heat of your body, yet freeing both hands to satiate the insane pleasure. I tensed often, slapping, patting, flicking. I muffled my gasps, intent to take it as far as I could for as long as I could.

In the hazy shadows of the dawn, colors within every cell of my being transformed together in a choreographed dance. Quenched, I entered my dream breathing slow and deep. I covered my shaven mound with still fingers, a fine smile of satisfaction plastered across my entire body.

The Dream: The ordinary mirrored doors were extraordinary in that in the course of making love in a strange bedroom we rather enjoyed the position from which we could watch our bodies banging and embracing from across the room. We saw extensions of the whole, pieces to which we could look just inches to breathe in and capture as much as grab from afar and reclaim. The mirror, along with Karaoke feelings and the unfinished marble threshold in the remodeled bathroom, became the theme from which this dream unfolded.

Imagine a room with rounded, mirrored walls. Reflections extend infinitely outside the circle, echoing in waves from the center. The floor is gleaming white marble, solidly anchoring the panoramic view, as well as the mirrored ceiling from above. This room is magically lit, warm daylight creeping in from beyond the range of the mirrors.

Sensual non-human shadows lurk near stone pillars of various heights. Many different sizes of light colored furs are strewn across the marble, falling perfectly and providing safety in the mystery of this unfamiliar place. These sensual non-gendered beings are in place, anxiously awaiting but untouchable. There is a sense of excitement to know that they exist solely to observe. They are The Watchers.

Suddenly, I am the music in an orchestra of arms and hands, The Lifters. This is their mission, to lift me above. Upper torsos, both male and female all bear a striking resemblance to you, as though the musicians are the many different parts of your makeup. The whole of you is right below me, conducting with perfect timing so that The Lifters sway in unity, lifting their arms with fluent grace, lifting my weightless body above as if in worship.

My senses are heightened. I see, hear, feel, smell, and even understand everything at once, drinking in it in. Endless reflections surround me. A crazy sexiness flows in and through my body. The room is infused with the fresh culmination of our cum. Sensual undertones, sexy overtones, and soft whispers of arms brushing against each other as I dance across fingertips. The Watchers and The Lifters sing without words, lulling me into a trance.

I am sitting with my legs crossed in front of me, completely naked and aware that as I flow gracefully across The Lifters they are preparing me. The Lifters sing toward my openings, warm breaths easing in, overlapping. The Lifters begin to finger me, taste me, and I am wet with desire.

In a fluid united movement, I am taken right up against a portion of the curved mirrored wall. The Watchers wait breathlessly in anticipation. I stretch my legs out in front of me toward the mirror, and there is a murmur below me as I part my thighs and press my legs open, painted red toes against the wall. Open for all to see. I like to look, and I spend some time here enjoying looking, and soon The Lifters are reaching for me.

Those who are nearest touch me: the crack of my ass; the flesh of my buttocks, the openings nearest are fingered and licked, and I encourage it, I show The Lifters what I like. They finger me more, lick me, pinch me, spank me and kiss my skin.

The pleasant weight presses me closer to the wall, forcing my knees to bend as my pussy presses against the mirror and leaves a mark. I bring my legs together in front of me on the wall, my bottom and legs pressed vertically as I continue to be lifted and passed along the curve of the round mirrored room, a full circle among safe arms as I smear the walls with my pussy juice.

I am flexible and fluid. I am guided to crawl my ass further up the wall as my back stretches comfortably and my legs begin to fold over my head. I bend my legs just enough to get them below the level of my head. My slit is wide open, my pussy an offering. I feel a thunderous bass beat below me, inside of me, above me, growing louder and louder as I am passed around the circle of Lifters. This position is the key, this wide open pussy begging you to pleasure me. I am touched, I am teased. I am slippery and cannot tell what is being used to bring such ecstasy, only that I want it to never end.

The thunder grows stronger. The rhythmic beat grows steadier, beats faster. Body parts are pleasuring me all at once. My clit is being pressed and licked and rubbed. My slit is a cave of rolling pink flesh searching for everything at one time. I take in the sights and sounds and smells as I accept flesh of all kinds.

I take in pressure and points and parts I cannot tell of how they go together in the whole. I only want it to go on and on and just when I can't imagine it getting any better, I am touched in a place just right, or I am touched stronger or softer, or a smell or taste is offered to take me to another plane.

I am taken to one orgasmic level to the next and to the next, and I am screaming with pleasure, begging for it to take me again and again. I am squirming and squirting and juicing and I squeeze my breasts, pinch my nipples, my head falling back against The Lifters. My mouth is salivating with desire, my inner cheeks swelling, my tongue tensing and I am taking in flesh of all sorts, fluid flesh, sticky with the smell of desire, I am nibbling on folds and a cuisine of sex flavors.

I engulf the head of your cock with my mouth, teasing the ridge as I swirl my tongue around its ledge. I take you in further, to the back of my throat which seems extremely pleasant to do in this semi-upside-down position. I stroke you with my hands as I continue to be pumped in the mouth. A hand stays with your head as I work your balls, tea-bagging them and suckling on the texture, gentle but passionately taking a side into my mouth, then the other.

My hand continues to stroke you, working the whole length of your shaft, toward the deep front pocket above your balls, feeling you on the underside of your sweet sacs, the root being stroked from end to end. I rub a generously lubed hand against the outer pucker of your sweet ass button. My thumb rubs the space between your balls and ass, I tease you just a bit, wanting your hardness inside of my own folds, prepared and ready to receive you. I want your hardness inside, I want to have it all. I want every position, every body part, every pace, and every intensity all at once.

You have now become separate from the whole of The Lifters, and you are crowned and lifted up to me by taller Lifters, who carry you to enter me. You are placed above me, and all Lifters work together to let us unite. We do not weigh anything, yet we have the perfect amount of pressure to work the beat together.

The thunder grows. The beat is growing again. My pussy is clamping on your shaft in a beat of its own. I can reach your balls, behind them stroking you and pressing and enticing all the right places. We are drenched with passion, lifted above to each experience the other's gifts.

I feel you tense. I feel everything that happens to you from head to foot as you shoot strong heavy loads of your cum inside of me. I want to taste it, and briefly move for you to load my throat. I swallow, I spit, and I rub it all over every inch of my body.

You enter me again, and that is it for me: I explode with your gorgeously rock hard cock inside of me, our fingers, Lifters' fingers, tongues, all body parts imaginable interchanging with each other, spurting and gasping for breath.

The grand finale of the orchestra pulls tightly together toward one final zenith: The fluttering shrill of a flute; an earthy beckoning call of a bassoon; and then, the clash of symbols...Bang! Again, bang!

We catch our breaths; peace of the cello surrounds us. The mirrors fade away. The Watchers look away. After we our intertwined glistening bodies are gently placed on the white fur throw, The Lifters fade. The marble melts into streams, then lakes, flowing out into the vast ocean with gentle waves.