mother
The silence was absolute in the heart of darkness.
She liked it like that.
Not seeing or hearing heightened her other senses.
She closed her eyes, sight irrelevant here, tuned in to his breathing, shallow and deep; tasted salt on his warm skin and felt the caress of lazy fingers running agonizing slow; tortuously gentle over her skin flushed with anticipation.
In a tent made for two, they sat on the hard ground their bodies twisted together like a giant pretzel.
There was something primal about being in the middle of nowhere surrounding by orchards and vineyards ripe with fruit. Something mesmerizing about the shadows cast on canvas by a roaring campfire.
Something intoxicating about being fed ripe black grapes plucked straight from the vine, sweet juices dripping over lips plump from over-feeding, over-kissing...
Over-eager to taste the good things on offer here, in this place removed from the humdrum, she moaned with contentment.
Silence amplifies sound, and private words carry far when said in the heat of passion.
His lips grazed her ear, his voice hers; his words sacred, meant only for her:
"Honey," he whispered his lips made it's way to her mouth, licking the sweetness from her chin, then back to her ear, red now... waiting: "let me show you..."
She twisted closer and he enveloped her in his embrace. She was dough in his hands, stretched and kneaded, pulled and tapped...then left to rest, bliss coursing through her body...
She awoke to the sound of chirping, happy sounds calling her outside. She donned hiking boots and a hoodie against the persistent drizzle, grabbed her Canon, kissed his sleeping brow and set off exploring with a lifted spirit and a glad heart.
Happy comes easy here.
And love; ever trying, ever challenging, love comes easy here too, where souls are quieted and passion is reignited.
"Welcome, my child," said mother nature in the rustling of the leaves, in the murmur of the trees, in the babbling of the brook...
She liked it like that.
Not seeing or hearing heightened her other senses.
She closed her eyes, sight irrelevant here, tuned in to his breathing, shallow and deep; tasted salt on his warm skin and felt the caress of lazy fingers running agonizing slow; tortuously gentle over her skin flushed with anticipation.
There was something primal about being in the middle of nowhere surrounding by orchards and vineyards ripe with fruit. Something mesmerizing about the shadows cast on canvas by a roaring campfire.
Something intoxicating about being fed ripe black grapes plucked straight from the vine, sweet juices dripping over lips plump from over-feeding, over-kissing...
Over-eager to taste the good things on offer here, in this place removed from the humdrum, she moaned with contentment.
Silence amplifies sound, and private words carry far when said in the heat of passion.
His lips grazed her ear, his voice hers; his words sacred, meant only for her:
"Honey," he whispered his lips made it's way to her mouth, licking the sweetness from her chin, then back to her ear, red now... waiting: "let me show you..."
She twisted closer and he enveloped her in his embrace. She was dough in his hands, stretched and kneaded, pulled and tapped...then left to rest, bliss coursing through her body...
She awoke to the sound of chirping, happy sounds calling her outside. She donned hiking boots and a hoodie against the persistent drizzle, grabbed her Canon, kissed his sleeping brow and set off exploring with a lifted spirit and a glad heart.
Happy comes easy here.
And love; ever trying, ever challenging, love comes easy here too, where souls are quieted and passion is reignited.
"Welcome, my child," said mother nature in the rustling of the leaves, in the murmur of the trees, in the babbling of the brook...
And her heart sang.
Silence and simplicity ♡
ReplyDeleteA wonderful combination xx
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