The Intimate Act

You are wearing nylons today, we are out in the city touring some of our favorite spots, you are wearing nylons. At first I saw them, at breakfast, when you crossed you legs, you did not just cross your legs, you turned towards me, showing me, teasing me, you are wearing nylons. I saw them walking behind you the top of the stockings barely reaching the top of you skirt, that line its calling me, teasing me. You showed them again getting out of the booth in the restaurant, your skirt had moved up as you turned towards me, you grasped my extended hand, your skirt slid up some more.

The day goes on and you are still wearing nylons, I can hear them as you walk the slight hiss of your thighs rubbing against each other. I can hear it on the street walking next to you, I can hear it when we walk down the escalator to get to the subway. You showed me your nylons, I am listening to your nylons. I will think of that sound when I am at work, I will remember the look when I think about you on the way home.

I can feel you nylons, my hand rests on your thigh when we sit down to eat, caressing, teasing. My hand rest on your thigh as we ride the metro where al the passengers in their own private world. My hand shifts with the rattle of the metro. I can hear you breathe, yes you have been wearing those nylons all day, I can feel those nylons.

I can see those nylons as you move on top of me you straddle my hips with a look that say "Did you see my nylons". I can hear the sound they are making as you rub your mound against member. I can feel their touch as you ride me.

Yes I noticed that you were wearing nylons today.

Posted by Me on 19-08-2007 00:00:00 | Permalink | Comments

I have been coming in late for the last couple of weeks, today I managed to leave early. I come in through the front door, the mail is still under the door and I assume that you are not home yet. I drop my things on the living room table and look around. For some reason I do not call out for you. I hear noise from upstairs but I can't hear you walk I sounds different. I stay quiet but make my way up the stairs turning the corner I can hear the noises from the bedroom. I approach the bedroom and peek through the door. I can't see the bed, but I can see you through the dressing mirror that sits at the other end of the bedroom. You have not changed into house-clothes, you are still wearing the blouse you left with this morning, I can see your hand move inside your blouse, massaging you breast like you like me to do.

You are oblivious to the fact that I am in the house, your face is flushed and you are breathing hard. I can see your skirt on the bed, you hastily discarded it, it must have been too tight when you put your hand over your mound. That hand is now working hard, I see it rub your clit underneath the panties you are still wearing. Your legs are squirming and your hips are pushing against your hand. My gaze moves to your face as i take in your beauty in the heat of this moment. I can see that you are in your own world of passion and I take in the look on you face. The look I know so well from the uncounted time that we have made love. I rarely get to admire that look undisturbed by my own urgency.

I don't make a sound but I can see that you are quickly moving to end your pleasure the hand at your breast moving with more urgency pulling at your nipple twisting, rolling it. Your breathing is faster harder and the hand between your legs is moving with at an even quicker pace. I look at you face again, I don't want to miss the moment, the moment we have shared so often the moment when everything becomes small and immaterial, the moment when there is only one purpose. Your body convulses as the wave of the moment moves along your body, your moments last longer than mine, I envy you for it, all of you. As the moment passes you relax you seem content with that one this time.

Posted by Me on 18-08-2007 23:08:53 | Permalink | Comments