Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Breath Control

Heat against my back, smooth skin sliding against its pale freckled expanse and the hot heavy feel of him against the firm cheeks of my ass, probing and moist and making me catch my breath.

His arm around me, muscles flexing, hand cupping, squeezing, pulling the soft flesh, pinching until looking down, I see the imprint of his fingers on the pale skin, blushing pink then crimson. blooming flowers of hurt.

Neck arched, his breath warm against the pale blue vein pulsing beneath alabaster skin, I shiver in anticipation and wiggle back against him, mutely begging.

His hand goes down, trailing fingers along long thigh then digs into the soft meat of the inner softness and I mewl and pull my leg up and he slips in, hot, hard, filling and probing and taking, thrusting want into warm capitulation.

He hums against the curve of my neck and his hands slide along my body, reading its shivering need with gossamer touches that flame lust into yearning skin.

He is in me and I am around him and the pressure is intense and the stretching, pushing want sparks a heavy aching craving and I shudder in the prison of his demanding embrace and my fingers cling to the muscular forearm and my hips move against him, captive in their need.

I close my green gaze and the world becomes the heated, humid reality of our bodies, moving rhythmically and dancing the dance of want and lust and I sigh capitulation as his teeth fasten in my shoulder and I feel the pressure of their need to sink deep into muscle and sinew…and I sink deep into the space of quiet.

Fingertips caress the throbbing column of my neck where my breath comes short and hot, tender blue vein throbbing life into the staccato beat of heart, thrusting blood and oxygen through the heated caldron of my yearning breast. Soft, soft, his fingers touch, explore, as if blind they seek the texture, measure and feel of a much beloved prey.

They encircle, gentle tender pads kissing promise into the arched vulnerability, and his hips thrust against me and distracted, I moan to the eddying miasma of smoky lust permeating the close air of the room.

Coolness trickling down, licking shivering into the trembling of my hips and swollen warmth as he pulls away and I cry, inarticulate, needy and his fingers tighten as his hips swing meaning and he surges into the clinging swollen folds of me and my breath catches in my throat.

He hums demand against the slope of shoulder, glistening in the muted light of the window which spills diffused light along the writhing flesh of our lust and I feel his fingers tighten.

I swallow, convulsively and feel the pressure of his need against the air which trickles through my labouring lungs. His fingers bind my neck in a circle of promise and a hint of threat that makes my hips buck hard against him and the soft moistness swell up and over the throbbing muscle of him.

I feel the thud of his heart pounding need against my back, strong, vibrant sounds that sink through the delicate skin and through muscle and sinew to capture the staccato of my own heart as it thuds harshly in the prison of my chest and his fingers tighten and the breath constricts in a convulsive swallow of hope.

His breath is harsh against my ears, in and out, in and out and I feel the circle of his love press possibility into my throat and my eyes unfocus and I concentrate on the in and out, in and out of his breath (faster now) as his hips thrust want into the needing, clinging folds and sounds are muted and I drift …
The tempo increases and I feel the hot, hard ache deep in my belly , insubstantial, drifting, my focus on the harsh sound of my own breath, loud now in my ears and I feel the trembling want in me and the possibility as he growls demand along the vulnerable aching curve of my mortality and dimly, I’m aware that my chest is aching as my lungs sear and pump panic that is diffused by the part of me that accepts …

and his fingers tighten and I feel him, hot and liquid, flame within me and my hips push weakly back and my mind explodes in a searing conflagration of his demands that pump ownership into the softness of my capitulation and his fingers tremble slightly then steady as he exerts iron control and a small, slim, whisper of air slips from between his careful grasp as he allows life to claim egress and he groans into the throbbing vein of my existence and then his fingers lighten and then fall away ….

and in the muted light of the room, the marks of almost flare crimson and then his soft lips caress the reminders of his need and his tongue licks comfort and I gasp and my chest labours as I pull air into the mute agony of lungs and feel him, liquid and moist, between my thighs and feel content and as my breath softens and quietens, and my lungs calm, I nestle into him, soft smooth skin against my back, enveloped and cherished in his heat, soreness as I swallow, quietly in the muted room skittering flame along my throat.


Buffalo said...

"I close my green gaze ..." Now that is a terrific phrase. Well done!

Loving Annie said...

Beautifully ritten Selkie, so very vividly sensual and compelling.

I'm not into having my air supply restricted - and still found your post arousing ! You described sex with someone you love so well...

Loving Annie said...

typo, sigh. written

Anonymous said...
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Radha said...

This was wonderful...incredibly sensual and hot!

Anonymous said...

You don't have to wonder whether or not I loved it.

selkie said...

I wasn't sure about posting this- at one point I would not have (although I would have still written it)- it is intimate, not just sexual. However, I think it gives some sense of what 'breath control' does for me .. (and for him).

littleone said...

i think you are the first blogger i have ever read that has tried to describe breath control. It is not something i fully understand.. but my mind is not closed to the idea.

you - as always - expressed it beautifully

morningstar (owned by Warren)

Kes said...

What an intensely erotic post! The poetic way you placed phrases together *felt* like how the sensations feel... all liquid and connected by not bound by structure. The one time someone held my throat while we were engaged in hot passionate kisses, I found it scary/thrilling. I had not thought of it before, but perhaps that swiftly indrawn and held breath when you're about to shatter into bliss... is a personal version of breath control. Thanks... you've given me much to ponder. Wonderful! Wonderful writing.

Angel said...

I love this, love this, love this.
And I´ve never tried breath play.

Simply lovely writing, selkie.

Thanks for sharing it,
Angel :)

moonheart said...

Oh this is so beautifully written. Intense and erotic.
I'm attracted to breathplay but it scares me also. The way you describe it is amazing: intimate and it's so much about trust and intense love.
Thank you.

selkie said...

moonheart, thank you for your kind words.

It is one of the most intimate involvements I have ever experienced - and you are completely correct - TOTAL trust and indepth KNOWLEDGE of your partner is ESSENTIAL and extremely needful! This is a VERY dangerous pursuit and shoudl only be undertaken if each participant is fully aware of the risks (and the dominant MUST have up to date first aid training!).

Intense love .....yes.