After I gave The Wanderer head and he gave me multiples, we leisurely laid on the bed. I was fully naked whereas he was dressed – such a common occurrence between the two of us it almost doesn’t need to be stated.
He was laying on his stomach and I was curled up against his side. I couldn’t help myself, my fingers craved to travel over him, so softly traced the arm closest to me, then up and around to explore the width of his shoulders, lazily circled my way to the lower back.
He laid there, his breathing even and calm, and it occurred to me that I’m rarely just allowed to have my way yet his silence granted permission. I decided, as is often the case, to push my advantage and sat up to continue traveling his body. First, my hands ran over his bottom through his jeans, down his thick thighs, pressed a bit more and felt his ever constant tension. Though, his calves were the tensest by far and I spent some time pressing my fingers and palms up and down them, a pitiful resemblance to a massage that I managed through jeans and my far too small hands.
Back up, this time with the same pressure, firm and sure against his skin since he hadn’t stopped me, into his muscles. My hands lifted up the bottom of his shirt and slid between fabric and warm skin. Surprisingly, he offered to take off his shirt and I was ecstatic about the idea – it is not common that he has is shirtless. Once he laid back down, I curled up alongside his body and began my traversing again, this time following the path of my fingertips made with a few kisses and nibbles – innocent in nature, simply appreciated his taste as well as the feel of him; almost gossamer in sensation and didn’t linger – still a bit tentative and surprised he allowed me such liberties with his body.
I reached down to his legs again and when I moved back up, kissed small trails across to the other side of him as my thighs straddled his hips, rolled on top of his body. My hands slid sensually across his skin, watched his breathing, leaned over the length of him and made sure that nipples grazed across his skin. I heard the catch in his breath before my own washed over the side of his neck, my lips simply caressed the sensitive places against his neck before my mouth became a bit more aggressive in kissing. As greedy mouth alternated up and down his neck, I made sure to keep my body poised where my nipples fondled his back.
I offered lotion so that I could apply more sliding pressure against his back and his agreement was a voice lulled at peace. I hopped up but was back on him before my body even missed his warmth, joked about being a sadist myself and threatened to smear his hot back in cold lotion. I didn’t of course, I liked his relaxed nature and wanted to take care of him rather than torment him (or perhaps I only view cold as torment?).
Fully armed and smeared with lotion, my arms glided across his skin, felt the tension and knots under the surface. As I stretched the pressure up, I allowed myself to just lay upon his back. Up and down, perceiving him to relax under my touch, kissing him every time my smaller frame laid across his larger one.
Eventually we were getting close to our check out time and still needed to pack, toys strewn out across the room from the night before. I could have rubbed him for hours more if not for a time constraint. I was unsure how to transition and remembered I asked him at one point if I was squishing him with my weight upon his back, to which he replied that he didn’t think I could, a challenge that I set aside but felt like it was the perfect time to accept. I belly flopped for all I was worth onto his back, his surprised exhalation of breath from the impact caused me to giggle. “Now am I squishing you?” I joked playfully.
“A bit,” he admitted, though whether I truly was or he was just being nice to me is undecided. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how to perceive my playful moods, or whether the moods are even appropriate – after all, I had just switched relaxing sensual rubbing with belly flopping squishing.
I can be pretty dense, or random, at times. Not all play has to be sexual, or consist of the pain/pleasure aspect, and I am far too dynamic (my friends might call me flighty) to be any one thing with even The Wanderer for as long as we’ve been playing, not to mention he was far more than a play partner.
I was grateful that he allowed me this level of intimacy, and that the day continued with the friendship aspect that also makes us so wonderful.
*And of course, since my Wanderer is also a blogger, you can read his perspective here.