A Good Night’s Tweet: A Bedtime Story (Repost)

I originally posted this here on September 1st 2012, and it was later published by GetLusty on their site about a week later.
Tonight is a good night for a little time traveling back by reposting this.  May you enjoy the ride as much as I have.

*************

I didn’t even attempt trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.  I’ve done that for the past two nights, but without fail, that big ripening moon in the sky did her best to keep me awake.  Blue Moon, I had my friend in Italy ask you to be quieter for me tonight so I would sleep, but you are a harsh mistress, and not a cell in my body asks for sleep as you peak at me through the curtains in my bedroom.

The moon outside my house

My friends over at GetLusty tweeted last night (yep, it’s a verb now, get used to it) asking what our favorite sexual positions were, and you know, other than names for the standard fare like Missionary and 69, I was really at a loss.  I mean, I’m not sure some of my favorite positions even have names.   I guess you could say I’m “creatively gymnastic”.  When I’m having really mind-blowing, heart-pumping, sweat-drenched, sheets are coming off the bed, “the house could fall down around me and I’d never even know” sex, I never really paused long enough to give much thought to what the things we were doing together were called.

All of our kinetic movements and gestures for positions are just that; gestures fed on the electric inertia of lustful bodies.  There is no thinking at this point, if you’re lucky.  There is no pause, no awareness of cognitive process.  I’m plugged in.  I’m an intrinsic charge in a circuit that hums and pulses with every leg thrown up and over your shoulder, every hand tightly clasped around your back dimpling into your flesh, or every hip driven back against you as you thrust into me from behind, using the length of my hair in your hands like reins.

What do I call that?  How do I name that?  How do I even do that justice with a few simple words?

Have you ever tried to describe a sexual position in one tweet?  Let me just say, it’s not easy.  It’s really challenging to be descriptive of such things with only 140 characters as your limit.  Here is what it looked like when I sent it.

“@getlusty Modified Coital alignment is right up there w/ Man seated, W straddles cock, knees bent, feet flat on bed, leans back on her hands”

It just is totally devoid of intensity and passion, which is so unlike what it actually feels like to experience.  And then I’m supposed to find an even more abbreviated way to say that?

However, if I were to tell you that one of my favorite positions is found in a moment, in an impulse…I roll you over onto your back to straddle you, your cock throbs eagerly to be back inside me again as I hover above you holding you in anticipation.   You can feel the heat of my pussy radiating down against your flesh, and your hands feverishly grab at my hips to pull me down onto you.  I love the low growl that escapes your lips as you fill me, and the quake that follows through my body like the tremors in the strings of a well strum harp.  My gaze has never left the snare of yours.  We are often like this, which is why I hunger to be in the wake of its hazel grasp.  Slowly you raise yourself up, your weight now balanced on your hands pressed firmly into the sheets beneath us.  I am like a fawn in the headlights of your desire.  Encircling the amber skin of your back, hands sliding up along the curve of your spine, I draw your broad chest to meet the rise of my porcelain flesh.  I love the feeling of your chest hair grazing my pert rose nipples, and the heat that pours out of your skin as I press myself against you, and you fold your arms around my waist.  Your voracious mouth finds mine with greedy impatience, and I can taste our sweat on your lips as I draw my tongue to yours. I long to know its intimate terrain, and each slow caress of my tongue paints my desire inside you, where only you can speak it.  I know because I sing the trail of yours left with tongue, teeth, and nail across my sinuous landscape.   My right hand’s fingers have found their way up to be nested in the grasp of your short brown hair, and I brace myself against you, holding tightly to the swell of your shoulders with my left.   On days when you would be in your head, you would interject that it has touches of gray, but that is of no concern to me.  I’ll know you when only gray remains, even if we are no longer lovers such as this by then.

Our bodies ride together; a slow steady ebb and flow like a tide to shore, but we both feel the pull of our rampant need growing.  I loosen myself from our embrace to lean back on the weight of my arms now, my hands planted firmly against the mattress cushioning us, and stretch my legs out, knee bent, behind you.  Your tumescent cock drives itself deeper inside me, as I shift the weight of my hips forward against you.  You recline back onto your hands now, the cool sheet slipping against your fingertips as you find your steady against them.  I watch your arms tremble as you climb higher to your edge with each fevered thrust of my pussy upon you.  Our breaths come in quick gasps now, and with each grind of my hips against you I can feel the feverish spill of my juices devouring your manhood.  I know how much it drives you wild with abandon to watch your cock glisten and drip with me, as you watch it part my lips, to slide, push, and plunge inside me, even when I am the one controlling our pace.

You…always know…just…how…to…push me…to the…edge where…I…am……bursting!  I arch my back and throw my head back in shame at how you bring me there with such ease, as I come quaking upon you while watching the same insatiable peak crest and course through your taught frame.  As our breaths slowly find themselves again, our sweat-covered bodies collapse into the bed underneath.  I still have you inside me, and savor the feel of you until you begin to soften. Eventually I roll off of you, and turning myself, entangle my body in your awaiting arms to drift together into slumber.

Yeah, I guess we could call that position “The X Marks the Spot” to fit it into a tweet, but still, for me, it will always be so much more.  After all, what’s in a name?

It’s almost 6am here.  The moon is making her descent back into the trees.  Maybe she’ll let me sleep now.

Advertisements

A Good Night’s Tweet: A Bedtime Story

I didn’t even attempt trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.  I’ve done that for the past two nights, but without fail, that big ripening moon in the sky did her best to keep me awake.  Blue Moon, I had my friend in Italy ask you to be quieter for me tonight so I would sleep, but you are a harsh mistress, and not a cell in my body asks for sleep as you peak at me through the curtains in my bedroom.

The moon outside my house

My friends over at GetLusty tweeted last night (yep, it’s a verb now, get used to it) asking what our favorite sexual positions were, and you know, other than names for the standard fare like Missionary and 69, I was really at a loss.  I mean, I’m not sure some of my favorite positions even have names.   I guess you could say I’m “creatively gymnastic”.  When I’m having really mind-blowing, heart-pumping, sweat-drenched, sheets are coming off the bed, “the house could fall down around me and I’d never even know” sex, I never really paused long enough to give much thought to what the things we were doing together were called.

All of our kinetic movements and gestures for positions are just that; gestures fed on the electric inertia of lustful bodies.  There is no thinking at this point, if you’re lucky.  There is no pause, no awareness of cognitive process.  I’m plugged in.  I’m an intrinsic charge in a circuit that hums and pulses with every leg thrown up and over your shoulder, every hand tightly clasped around your back dimpling into your flesh, or every hip driven back against you as you thrust into me from behind, using the length of my hair in your hands like reins.

What do I call that?  How do I name that?  How do I even do that justice with a few simple words?

Have you ever tried to describe a sexual position in one tweet?  Let me just say, it’s not easy.  It’s really challenging to be descriptive of such things with only 140 characters as your limit.  Here is what it looked like when I sent it.

“@getlusty Modified Coital alignment is right up there w/ Man seated, W straddles cock, knees bent, feet flat on bed, leans back on her hands”

It just is totally devoid of intensity and passion, which is so unlike what it actually feels like to experience.  And then I’m supposed to find an even more abbreviated way to say that?

However, if I were to tell you that one of my favorite positions is found in a moment, in an impulse…I roll you over onto your back to straddle you, your cock throbs eagerly to be back inside me again as I hover above you holding you in anticipation.   You can feel the heat of my pussy radiating down against your flesh, and your hands feverishly grab at my hips to pull me down onto you.  I love the low growl that escapes your lips as you fill me, and the quake that follows through my body like the tremors in the strings of a well strum harp.  My gaze has never left the snare of yours.  We are often like this, which is why I hunger to be in the wake of its hazel grasp.  Slowly you raise yourself up, your weight now balanced on your hands pressed firmly into the sheets beneath us.  I am like a fawn in the headlights of your desire.  Encircling the amber skin of your back, hands sliding up along the curve of your spine, I draw your broad chest to meet the rise of my porcelain flesh.  I love the feeling of your chest hair grazing my pert rose nipples, and the heat that pours out of your skin as I press myself against you, and you fold your arms around my waist.  Your voracious mouth finds mine with greedy impatience, and I can taste our sweat on your lips as I draw my tongue to yours. I long to know its intimate terrain, and each slow caress of my tongue paints my desire inside you, where only you can speak it.  I know because I sing the trail of yours left with tongue, teeth, and nail across my sinuous landscape.   My right hand’s fingers have found their way up to be nested in the grasp of your short brown hair, and I brace myself against you, holding tightly to the swell of your shoulders with my left.   On days when you would be in your head, you would interject that it has touches of gray, but that is of no concern to me.  I’ll know you when only gray remains, even if we are no longer lovers such as this by then.

Our bodies ride together; a slow steady ebb and flow like a tide to shore, but we both feel the pull of our rampant need growing.  I loosen myself from our embrace to lean back on the weight of my arms now, my hands planted firmly against the mattress cushioning us, and stretch my legs out, knee bent, behind you.  Your tumescent cock drives itself deeper inside me, as I shift the weight of my hips forward against you.  You recline back onto your hands now, the cool sheet slipping against your fingertips as you find your steady against them.  I watch your arms tremble as you climb higher to your edge with each fevered thrust of my pussy upon you.  Our breaths come in quick gasps now, and with each grind of my hips against you I can feel the feverish spill of my juices devouring your manhood.  I know how much it drives you wild with abandon to watch your cock glisten and drip with me, as you watch it part my lips, to slide, push, and plunge inside me, even when I am the one controlling our pace.

You…always know…just…how…to…push me…to the…edge where…I…am……bursting!  I arch my back and throw my head back in shame at how you bring me there with such ease, as I come quaking upon you while watching the same insatiable peak crest and course through your taught frame.  As our breaths slowly find themselves again, our sweat-covered bodies collapse into the bed underneath.  I still have you inside me, and savor the feel of you until you begin to soften.  Eventually I roll off of you, and turning myself, entangle my body in your awaiting arms to drift together into slumber.

Yeah, I guess we could call that position “The X Marks the Spot” to fit it into a tweet, but still, for me, it will always be so much more.  After all, what’s in a name?

It’s almost 6am here.  The moon is making her descent back into the trees.  Maybe she’ll let me sleep now.