In the early hours

There is a magical time in the early hours of each morning. A time no one minds to be woken up. A time where your senses are heightened, where every passing second is deliciously tempting.

This happened only the other day. Being brushed awake by the stroke of a naked body, close to my own, made me tingle with excitement. It was about 3.30am. I had no complaints at all.

However, I must confess; it’s not just the state of being breathless and the state of being pleasured I enjoy. I do love it; I love every last kiss, every last touch, and every last whisper in my own ear. But there is one thing you can only experience in the early hours of the morning

After, when all is done, we curl up together skin to skin, palm to palm; satisfied, comfortable and feeling LOVED.

And I sleep very soundly, knowing I’ll wake up and return to the real-working world, with a great big smile upon my face.

The Small Things

They do say that it’s the small things that count in life; a welcome smile from a stranger. The green grass and birdsong in the early hours of the morning. A warming mug of hot chocolate on a chilly, English, wintery-day. Pure joy resonating from heartfelt laughter.

And I have to say that I thoroughly agree.
Not only do I agree, but I extend this sentiment when it comes to sex and relationships, too.

Sex is something that should be exciting. It should be enjoyed, it should be fun, and most of all, it should be appreciated. Of course, we all love the main event; that spine-tingling, toe-curling, moan-inducing moment of pure pleasure. However, upon reflection, it isn’t just those moments that spring to mind when the deed is done. No.
I think of the small things, too…

…the way he looks into my eyes, wanting, yearning,my body giving into his every touch.
The way his hair feels when it brushes against my skin.
His stubbly chin, lightly prickling my neck, followed by soft, warm kisses, tracing my body like a memento, a treasure…

And when all is done and we lie exhausted and satisfied; the hot-wetness of his cum on my stomach like a reminder of the preceding events.
The way his hair sticks up at the back; bed-hair at its most supreme.
The smile on my face as I turn to him, lying in his arms, and the nonchalant way he asks if I “had fun?”.

These snippets of my memory are what I refer to as ‘the small things’. They seem unimportant, ordinary and routine; but for me they have special significance.

So don’t let the ‘small things’ mean nothing. Appreciate them, treasure them and remember them.
Because alongside everything else, it is these ‘small things’ that keep me coming back for more
.

Well…

…aren’t hands quite something?
I mean, they’re not the THING people think about when they’re in the mood, are they? Well I mean, not CONVENTIONALLY, any way. But recently however, I’ve discovered a great love for them.

why, you’re asking?

Well, it’s simple really. Stroke me, and I’m absolute putty in your hands.
Stroke my sides; all the way up to my breasts, and down my legs until you reach my feet.
Work your way upwards; tracing the form of my inner thigh, my flesh yielding to your touch.
Stroke my neck, the sides of my face, across my stomach, around my bum, squeezing me tight, making me breathless.

See, the thing with hands is that they can unclothe me.
They can caress me.
They can rove down and plunge a finger or two deep inside me.
They can make me writhe with pleasure, make me come; pure ecstasy.

however;
They can comfort me.
Hold me tight.
Make me feel safe.
Interlink with my own.

They can make me feel loved.
Beautiful, caring hands.
Perhaps that is why they’re quite possibly one of the loveliest things of all.