I know what she wants. She knows exactly what to do to me.

Exploring Myself

Thu, 10/18/2012 - 01:15 -- amber

In the early days of my personal explorations with cannabis, I experienced something I've never quite been able to recreate. Perhaps because I've known it once before- perhaps for fear of narcissism. I am not certain.

I was in a pliable mental state. My brain unlinked my inputs and outputs. My abilities to sense and react were no longer dulled when turned upon myself. I experienced what it would be like to encounter another me.

I know what she wants. She knows exactly what to do to me.

I decided to explore. What happens if I slowly walk my fingers along her neck? Oh. She likes that. I grab her hair from behind with my left hand as my right continues walking down her front. I clutch her breasts. their delightful consistency fills my palm with a small chilled weight. I make my way to her navel. She better not think she's getting my hands down her pants. Not just yet. That would be too easy.

She's Perfect. How can she tease me when she IS me? I no longer care. I am at her mercy. Her touch is the perfect blend of firm and gentle. I can feel her passion. She is strong and she knows what she wants. I suck her fingertips. She responds by clutching my waist. I press my hips to the air. Undulating upwards and down. The raised valley pleases her. Squirming, my heart races. I bite my lip- Ready for her touch. I press against her hips. What I would give for another pair with which to grind upon her legs. I reward her with a brush of my fingers between her legs. She shudders. If I could kiss her I would. But I lick her lips and rub my tongue against her teeth. I let her bite my fingers and before she expects it I've thrust my hand under her lacy wear. She's wet.

I dig deeper. Quickly I'm motioning against her inner walls. One finger, two. Come here. Come.How delightfully unreal. I want to touch her back. A flurry of hands and I'm shuddering. She is. We are.

I dig deeper. Quickly I'm motioning against her inner walls. One finger, two. Come here. Come. All the while keeping pressure with my palm. She voices her desire to reciprocate with a moan and a clawing hand at my thigh.

I Tighten The frustration of a nonexistent lover only fuels my passion. I want her. I can not have her. I am her. I squeeze her breasts and she screams.

Good. Girl. Grind against my hand, it's all you've got. Sweat speeds our motion and I'm about to make you scream.

I never knew we were capable of that.

amber's picture
Amber Hoffman

I am writer and editor at Bedroom Stories online magazine, writing about sexual relationships and better understanding our lives. Feel free to contact me at [email protected]