A Touch Like Lace, a Kiss Like Silk

She was every fantasy wrapped up in a white shroud.

Photo by Ana Maria Moroz from Pexels

There are few things more stimulating to the senses than a woman laid bare to you, her breath coming in soft gasps as you learn the secrets of her body.

I could tell you she’s not like other women — Don’t all the men say that? — but it might be just my own addled senses lost in pleasures that thrum deep past the skin and into the blood.

Her chest heaves, breasts still covered by the white brassiere she wore under her dress tonight, and the way she looks at me tells me I’m doing something right. Her eyelids droop, irises hazy with lust as her pupils dilate. It’s like a superpower to know I’m doing this to her with just a circle of motion inside her.

But then I withdraw, and her eyes flash with irritation.

“You’re such a tease,” she says, huffy, and it’s all I can do not to smile.

This game we play — its steps are a well-rehearsed dance, and we know each push and pull of it. You’d think we would get bored, but nights have passed like this for the months we’ve been seeing each other.

She’s the first woman I like to banter with rather than just rock against until I’m satisfied. It’s a rarity to find someone who can appeal to your mind while also…