“I want to do with you what Spring does to the Cherry trees.” ~ Pablo Neruda
This time, let’s take the slow road, the road less taken, the one that’s slightly muddy and smelling of a fresh rainstorm.
The one that meanders through the field thick with golden rod and queen’s anne lace dancing in the soft breeze.
I want to make love to each and every one of your senses so that you can feel every inch of my body pressed against yours, so that the smell of my hair will fill your dreams even when I am not lying next to you making goosebumps rise upon your skin.
This time, I just want to take it slow.
We Will Watch
My skin is pale right now after the months of snow and cold have kept me hidden inside under heirloom quilts and fluffy down comforters. I don’t even mind the way that every freckle, every scar is easily seen, because I will love to see your eyes try to take it all in at once…like you are finally seeing what you never thought you’d have.
I will dress up for you in sapphire blue lace, and maybe even heels.
My honey colored hair will probably be messy and untamed, cascading around my shoulders and back— bedroom hair as I am told it’s called. My dark blue eyes will be heavy with desire, my lashes brushing your cheek as I come to stand in front of you.
Slowly, I will undo my lace and let it fall to the floor, because as much as I will know you love seeing me all beautifully wrapped up just for you, what you crave, what you desire is my skin, bare and exposed against yours. It’s going to kill you not to touch me, but you can’t just yet.
I will want you to feel how my breasts will be the first part of me that will touch your body, how my hair will feel as it falls in waves across your shoulders and chest.
Just when you think you can’t take anymore I’ll ask you to close your eyes…
We Will Revel in Smell
I will want you to smell my innocence, and all of the dreams that I keep locked away for a rainy day. I will come as close as I can to you, without kissing you yet, your face will be in my hair smelling my perfume.
Lovers Moon it’s called—a rich floral bouquet of gardenia mixing with the air of a warm and starry night in the Casbah.
The smell of it will stain your skin and become your favorite memory; as I brush my face against yours and turn my head to the other side you’ll smell warm sesame oil and vanilla. Smelling of warmth that is as comforting as a hot shower at the end of long day, slowly seducing you to your knees. As I draw myself away from you and brush against your back, my soft hair and finger tips barely touching your skin, the first erotic warm smells of oils will fade away, and the true smell of my skin will start to rise in waves around us, the smell of clear rushing water, stones, grassy knolls, soft moss and brilliant sunshine.
As I circle around you, coming to face you once again, I’ll ask you to open your eyes and you’ll have no choice but to look into mine, like deep pools at the end of a waterfall, you’ll fall slowly and silently into them…which will only make the next part that much more delicious.
We can Touch
Just when you think you will collapse in delirious expectation, I will slowly press myself against you, softly in the beginning so that you can feel every curve along my soft body.
I won’t kiss your mouth at first. I’m going to let my fingertips trace the muscles in your arms as I stand on tip toe to kiss your collar bone. My fingers making slow circles up your torso as I kiss further up your neck, to that one spot that always makes you gasp.
I will pull back just a bit so that I can trace your lips with my fingertips before I slowly, and deliberately kiss you.
It won’t last like this for long, because we will soon sink into drinking each other up like we are finally having water after a long month in the desert. My hands won’t leave your face because I will love feeling the gentle roughness of your beard in my hands. I will bite your lip a little bit too before I pull back and start kissing your neck again, your shoulder, your chest…trailing all the way down until…
Taste it All
I can taste all of you.
Not the lotions or soaps that you may use but the actual taste of your skin. I will run my tongue over, along and in between, biting you gently. I taste spiced cloves and A.H. Hirsch Reserve whiskey—it’s no wonder that I always seem to get drunk off of you.
I will sit across your lap. Even though there are a hundred different positions we would love to try, we always find ourselves here, face to face, eyes locked, our chakra points lined up. You will finally grasp my supple hips with your determined hands, and bury your face in my breasts, like you never want to come up for air.
We will kiss each and every part of each other, tasting the desire that has been bubbling there for too long, unquenched. Our body heat will grow until our faces become flushed, and sweat starts to bead up and roll down your forehead, landing on my thighs.
I will sit up further and lick the sweat off your brow, the salt invading my senses and having me swell with my desire for you as our most primal instincts kick in.
The rest of the world drops away as we are finally in the moment.
You will know just how to make me gasp and it will delight you. I will see the smile play at the corner of your lips as I breathe in quick and pause before losing it all again. Our skin silently slides against each other, my hair sounding like the breeze through the dune grass at the beach as it moves across your body as I explore it.
Murmured laughter when our jokes arise, only to fade out as we press our mouths once again to each other. Small gasps, and shrieks, encouragement about where to touch and how hard it should be.
Deep moans growing louder, and quicker until finally, the silence explodes around us, and all is finally calm. The only sound is our breath; my fingers tracing your chest as our breathing slows, and we fall asleep tangled up in each other.
Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do, all slow and deliberate, ruining each other for anyone else. I want to make love to each and every one of your senses; the sight of you wanting me, the smell of our skin mingling, the taste of our desire, the way our bodies feel moving together, and the sounds that only you hear me make.
I want to take it slow, and I want to taste you like I would a dripping ripe summer peach.
I want to have your body respond to each and every touch, no matter how subtle.
A quickie? Nah, not this time around. This time, we need to take it slow, because some things really are worth the wait.
And, I promise, this will be one of them.
Author: Kate Rose
Editor: Renée Picard
Photo: Franz Francisco at Pixoto