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undress me with your eyes

Lust is a many splendored thing
Rated PG-13
Disclaimer:  Not mine, no money made, blah, blah, blah.






Did you know I had been watching you when you came up to me and asked me to dance? Sometimes I can feel your eyes on me as I move across the room. Did you feel something just now too?

You weren’t doing anything in particular. You were standing there, and then you moved. It just caught my eye. I looked up and the image of you filled my vision and suddenly all I could do was drink you in. The way you turned and seemed to pose for me. I was enchanted. I noticed the neckline of your shirt was open a little farther than usual, and I caught a small glimpse of what lie underneath. Then my mind was lost in imaginings of blatant self-indulgence at your expense.

First, I imagined that garment falling away. It slipped off your shoulders and slid down your back to the floor at your feet. Then I watched you breathe for awhile, intrigued by the simple, natural movement of your delectable form. My eyes glided over the perfect shape of your torso and my hands itched to examine each sloping curve closer. Your small, pale nipples beckoned to my mouth as well and I imagined them puckering between my lips as I slathered them with my tongue. They are so pleasurable to suck; I could do so for hours.

Just then, someone close to you spoke and you smiled, making me catch my breath. I looked at your face now, and followed the arch of your brow down the bridge of your nose to your lovely supple mouth. I thought about those heavy lips of yours, as soft as down, as succulent and rich as cream. I could almost feel them pressed tightly to my own, moistly sliding and grinding over mine with the most exquisite movement. My insides simply melted at the thought.

I imagined as we kissed, my hands touched you where only my eyes are able to now. Down the fall of your throat, over the muscles of your elegant neck to your shoulders. I know the shape beneath your clothes, and with my eyes I followed each remembered valley and plane and made the rest of your clothing fall away. I imagined my fingers as they trailed over hard bone and sinewy muscle now, down the small of your back to soft flesh and satin-like skin of your tapered waist. As I drew you nearer, I ran my palms over the fine tautness of your ass, savoring the innocent shifting of your legs which made the muscle flex beneath my hands and made my mind short out in an acute attack of arousal. You have the most perfect ass…

But those long, lean legs of yours are not to be ignored. As it is, I love to watch you walk. I always reveled in the movement of your limbs in opposition to your hips and I still do. There was always just enough bump and sway to turn heads--unconscious on your part though it may be. You cannot help it though. Neither can they. Or me. Your thighs are chiseled from a marble sculpture, yet your fine, shapely calves make me think of cool river stone. They are simply glorious in their form. I know to see those legs is one thing, to feel those legs as they rub over mine is pure rapture.

Inevitably it would come to this, I thought to myself with a sigh of resignation. Thinking of our limbs entwined led me to recall the weight of your hips on mine. How perfectly your body molded to me. Quite simply, you are a lover like no other. It is if I were made for you and you for me. Wrapped in your arms, one strong, smooth thrust. Such sweet penetration! So deep, so full; powerful but tender, and together we moved in complete synchronicity, intimately dancing to the rhythm of our passions for each other. We would while the night away in each other’s arms, sparing our bodies no pleasure too great.

Perhaps many hours later, after our joining has slaked the desires in my heart, I could gaze into your eyes then and see a reflection of my adoration for you in their depths. I love looking at your eyes. They are startlingly beautiful to behold and so soothingly familiar. I treasure what they see in me and cherish what they convey.

Even now from across a crowded room, I know what your eyes often do. I hear what it is they tell me. You’ve looked at me as I’m looking at you now and it makes me think you are not so far away. Not out of my reach. Never out of my reach, as long as I can imagine. As long as I remember.

You turned and now you caught me staring at you. There must have been something stirring in my eyes that I am unable to hide. You are coming towards me now with a bemused smile on your ever lovely face. I feel like an adolescent suddenly, caught in the throes of a schoolyard crush. #1 Crush by the band Garbage. That is the song playing over the sound system now. How fitting, I think.

To my surprise, you held out your hand to me. I looked at it nonplussed, not understanding what you wanted. I blinked up at you with questioning eyes as I put my hand in yours.

“I know this is one of your favorite songs. Would you like to dance?”

“With you?” I replied breathily, still slightly taken aback by the offer.

“Take it or leave it. This is as good as it gets, Jean-Claude.”

I smiled, sidling up to him. “Good enough for me, mon chardonnerey.”

And so we danced. As wickedly as we dared, bumping and grinding and writhing and shaking to that hard rhythmic beat without ever touching each other.

It has been said that the mind is actually the most significantly erotic organ in the body. If that is true, I am already half-way there. C’est la vie!





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