DISCLAIMER: I only borrowed them for a while. MGM and whoever can have them back whenever they want.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
DEDICATED: to my muse and my love.

Interlude 16:
Context

By Celievamp

My fingers explore. The area they cover is small, a few inches across, an inch or so deep. A small yet perfect universe. And all mine.

Soft hairs brush against my finger tips as my fingers cup her. At the outer edges the skin is cool, but where my middle finger rests there is heat. She is staring up at me, her dark eyes bright yet enigmatic. If she did not want this I would know by now. Yet she senses my introspective mood, is not her usual playful, vocal self. She is happy to let me take my own route tonight.

I lean down, whisper that I love her and I kiss her, savouring the slightly papery texture of her lips, the warm wetness as she opens her mouth slightly, my tongue tracing the inner edge of her lips, her teeth, her tongue. One arm is curved under her shoulders, holding her smaller frame close to mine as the other remains at rest for now, nested.

She turns her head to rest on my shoulder as I start to move my fingers again, exploring her, tracing what has become the omphalos, the mystic centre of my world. I do not sense her move but suddenly, naturally it is as if I have discovered a wellspring. The soft hairs give way to softer skin, warm wet satin almost slippery under my fingers as I gently, slowly trace her folds, mapping her. I do not need to see it for myself, though I know from previous inspection that it is particularly, uniquely beautiful area I am exploring. I have an excellent spatial memory and my fingers tell me everything I need to know. Memory and imagination supply the rest.

Context, texture. My loverís body. An act of mutual pleasure. My middle finger maps the way between the silky folds of skin, heat-seeking. Her breath is hot against my throat as the texture under my finger tip changes again. The wetness is thicker now, almost oily, coating my fingers, coating her as I continue to explore. Sensation floods my mouth, sense-memory of how she tastes. But that is for later.

The edges of her slit have a slightly coarser texture than the folds that protect them. I know how sensitive she is just here, how the smallest, the gentlest of touches to this place is magnified by her nervous system. I run my fingertip slowly, slowly around the edge, dip my fingertip inside for a moment, exerting a gentle pressure as I angle my hand, my thumb brushing through her hair now, seeking its own target, that little nub of flesh and nerves, so very sensitive to pressure.

My index and ring fingers brush lightly through her folds again, my little finger just touching the edge of her thigh, feeling the long muscles there begin to twitch. My middle finger moves down again, tracing her perineum, slick and smooth before touching the puckered muscle of her ass. I change the angle of my hand again, extending my little finger now to keep contact with that area whilst three fingers slip through her folds again. My thumb keeps up its gentle massage of her clit, circling, rubbing. The soft hairs are slick now with her juices, her skin is so hot, her folds swollen with desire, I keep my movements slow, deceptively gentle across the hot wet satin, the slightly grainier texture of her inner walls as I deepen the stroke, feeling for that one particular area, the hotspot, the mother lode. There. There!

Like some exotic venus flytrap her muscles tighten around my fingers, her thighs close as her body draws in on itself for a moment before she bucks, stretching against me, her hands clutching at me her fingers biting into the flesh of my arms my shoulders. I nuzzle against the taut tendons of her neck and shoulder as she gives wordless voice to what she feels, carefully rolling us both so that she is cushioned by my body as my fingers still, enclosed by her warmth. I close my eyes, knowing that I will never forget this that of all the things I do with my life being able to do this, to bring pleasure to my lover, my woman, my wife, my Janet, this is the one that will mean the most.

The End

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