I untie the scarf that restrains the storm of her hair.
It tumbles and falls about her shoulders and over my hands like silk. It runs through my fingers like liquid.
She melts into me, her body smooth and warm and perfumed and soft. She yields, luscious and rich. creamy and fresh, her breath at my throat. The heat of her mouth is on my neck.
Her lips taste of cinnamon and sugar. The tip of her tongue roams inside my mouth, her teeth nibbling at the edges, making my face burn and tingle.
Her legs surround me. I am standing as she rides my waist and hips, her yearning arms clinging to me as if she is drowning. She is mewing like a lost gull on a shipwreck sea.
She finds me with her sex. I am desperately hard against her tender, intricate, swollen wetness.
I carry her to the conspiring bed and unpeel her from me. I spread her like sacrifice, face down on virgin sheets. She writhes and twists, moans and sighs.
She swears dirtily, hungrily, under her breath.
Lowering myself, I part her thighs with my knees and kiss the nape of her neck, her shoulders, and the lovely. long line of her spine.
I cover her. My chest against her back. my hands cupping her breasts and then squeezing her urgent nipples hard between thumb and forefinger. She pushes the perfect peach of her arse against me, and traps me between them in that sacred valley.
I spread her wider, my feet guiding her ankles.
She gasps as I slide into her.
At this moment, nothing else exists.
Only this wild, exultant, euphoric coupling.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Gianfranco ferlazzo