Hands
Light strokes over their shoulders, back, down to their ass and the quivering crease
Darkness
They opened their eyes in vain. Fluttering eyelids felt the texture of a blindfold or sleep mask; the sudden reaction found their wrists and ankles held outstretched. Meanwhile the hands became fingers, tracing the paths from inner thigh to ankle, from bare hip up into armpit, never lingering long in any one place
Before
There had been something before – an evening – a person who – but their brain could not break away from the slide of skin against skin, limbs taut, body arching and straining. No sight, barely a whisper of sound to use as a focus, instead pulled apart in multiple directions, taps and touches and teasing until
Nothing
Their body quivers, deprived of any tactile contact other than the pressure of skin against the slippery sheet. Moans and whimpers fade into empty air, words out of reach, fingers and toes flared
“Ssshhh”
A hand presses their face into the warm moist area of the sheet and mattress, the scent there intimate and familiar, tongue coming out to take it all in
Hand
Cupping between shaking thighs, pressure in the right places
Falling…
/ END /
