The Dance

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In the dark, she turns, her hand reaching for his face. Their lips touch as they do every night for a quick, goodnight kiss. Tonight in the dark, nose to nose, their eyes meet. His lips brush her mouth, stopping to linger.

She feels passion awakening within, as his kiss deepens from goodnight to hello. A kiss drawing fire from her belly to her lips leaving no doubt she’s been kissed.

A whispered sigh escapes as she smiles, inviting him to continue. He knows the dance by heart, as does she. Their movements appear effortless, they move as one, with a rhythm choreographed from years of practice.

Breathless, he leaves her breathless as he gently pulls his lips away. His mouth continues searching for her neck as his kisses trace the line of her jaw.

Like the flutter of butterfly wings, he finds the pulse of her throat. A spot, which has elicited a moan for more years than either of them, cares to think about, and it doesn’t fail this night. His lips continue their quiet dance and his still nimble hands find her tight, hard peaks on their familiar journey. The silence is broken; she cries out his name.

Her body arches reaching up and encouraging him. He continues moving down her body. She begs him to hurry. A soft chuckle comes from the dark; he enjoys the heat of this dance. A gasp sounds as she draws a sharp breath and he knows his tongue has found its mark.

After so many years, she is amazed at the response he stirs within her. Patiently he waits until she begs for release. Finally, with his lips sweeping her skin, he retraces the path first taken finding her mouth. Then with the thirst to match a dying man, finds home and release.

Together they are complete. She lies listening to the sounds of the night, and for that comforting snore to begin signifying deep sleep, then maybe she too can close her eyes. Satiated, his smell surrounds her, invading all of her senses. Tonight her heart and mind are full.

She expected this feeling to wane over the years, as the grey advanced, but it only deepened. Sure, there were times when fatigue made her too weary to lie still and enjoy slow nights of love. Tonight she wishes she could turn the clock back, slow down time, and savor every moment.

Her puffy lips smile as she lightly brushes his skin for one last taste, one more kiss. They have nowhere to be tomorrow, no timetable to keep now and nowhere to rush. She read somewhere youth is wasted on the young, and she believes that to be true. The soft chuckle reaching her ears now is her own as she settles back on her pillow and waits. A smile curves her lips, and she waits for the morning light. She waits for a good morning kiss and the dance to continue.

The Dance was last modified: December 26th, 2014 by Jean M. Cogdell
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One Response to "The Dance"

  1. Craig  Saturday, July 27, 2013 at 22:30

    Sweet, sensual and enjoyable

    Reply

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