Keeping Warm

Author's Note: Very special thanks to rustyoznail for his invaluable editing. Without it this story would've been a travesty that would've put you all in such a rage that you would've found out where I live so that you could come over and tar and feather me. Thankfully that's not the case and I live to write another day.

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In a less than ideally heated room, I watch as the ravages of winter take their toll. Their current goal is to devastate everything that can't find a shelter from its wrath. A combined force that hopes to be cleansing in its intent through whatever judgment that nature abides by. It rains torment across this land with a brutishness that seems like an unfair test to pass. But we're still here, so I guess we're performing well enough to continue our time on this planet.

Thankfully I have shelter in here. The best shelter that my meager paycheck can buy, but a shelter nonetheless. One that's not to be discounted as the ice storm rages just outside these walls. Though the chill makes its way into my place of rest despite my best efforts, I have ensured that there's enough warmth to keep me in a state that's akin to comfort. And fortunately, I have a secret weapon in my campaign against the cold.

I have her to aid me in the battle to keep warm. Her, who is currently watching me, wondering when I'm going to make my way back into her arms. Waiting enticingly, showcasing the attributes that make here such an object of desire. All to ensure I make my way back to her in as much haste as possible.

Already disrobed I make my way into the bed to lie against her equally naked body. The shame and embarrassment that has been imposed on our flesh by outside forces has given way to a comfort and even a relish in being able to display ourselves openly in such a manner. Breast size has ceased to become an issue even though there was never anything to complain about in the first place. My abs and muscles, while still nice, lie in the past as part of the enticements that allowed this coitus to begin in the first place.

With there being no way to spend any time outside, I join her in our little purgatory that we're going to try to make into a little bit of heaven. I crawl my way back into her good graces and she welcomes me wholeheartedly. We just bask in each other's comfort for a bit, not hurrying the inevitable that awaits before us.

The warmth of her skin is bolstered by her expertise in blending her many fragrances and lotions into the aroma that currently graces her. A smell that's beyond enticing, almost numbing in regards to what little reticence I may have left in my system. It awakens my wants in a rapturous manner, giving a voice to them and listening keenly as they divulge their intent.

My erection grows without any intention on my part. It's just a natural occurrence, one that's pointing me in a direction I very much want to go. It finds its way onto my lover's thigh through no effort of my own, a byproduct of the physical contact we are currently sharing. She recognizes what this outgrowth signals and is more than happy to play along.

She takes my member into her hands with guileless enthusiasm. She strokes it almost absentmindedly, all the while knowing what a disproportional effect her strokes have on my end. Sometimes an efficient and focused technique is called for in matters related to sex. Other times whimsy and leisure is the best strategy.

A playful touch, the kind that's not a slave to technique. One that wants to go beyond the bounds of what's been tried and tested and instead promises new wonders beyond the horizon. That's what she's bringing to me. A sexual experience that's not beholden to what came before it. A new beginning in a relationship full of them. A chance to explore each other's wants and desires in a fresh approach.

What I had mistakenly thought would be a standard act of sexual congress now holds the promise of something more in her intoxicating presence. One that makes me forget about the hardships that are currently occurring outside in favor of the soft touches that are found indoors. As her grasp around my loins holds me in a limbo of neither deflation nor sweet release, I find my breath taking a life of itself. No way could I recreate the soft rapture and quiet ecstasy that my respiration weaves throughout the air without the guiding influence of my lover's hand.

The forces of control and subjugation find a rare axis to meet in this act we're both ensconced with. Two dualities find a mixture in each other's arms. The giver and the receiver, the man and the woman, the lover and the loved, the pursuer and the pursued, the patron and the matron, I and her, she and me. All of these are words used to differentiate the two of us. But words have no domain in the act we're partaking in. Our boundaries are going to get a little hazy.

The immiscible becomes miscible when the two of us are close in this way. The man and woman divide becomes a little hazy when we're together. A lack of certainty as to who's feeling what permeates our activities and to be honest we don't care in the slightest. It all feels so natural, so why not let nature take its course and let whatever worries we may have just wash away while we enjoy what the physical world has in store for us.

She could be credited for this narration as well as I, for she is the co-author in these sensations I'm feeling. And someone ought to award her a Pulitzer. She can write me a happy ending and give me a satisfying journey along the way too. What arcs she can craft, what twists she can introduce. All with the proficiency she shows with her body in conjunction with mine.

I move my lips to her while taking care to leave ample room for her hand to continue to stroke me. We have a two-pronged approach when it comes to touching, One point of contact from above, another in a much lower place. My own hand makes its way to her opening, slightly stroking the rift. Taking a moment or two to simply let her enjoy the warmth radiating off of my palm and onto her entryway.

A loud bash of snow hitting the window is heard but not noticed by the two parties in the room. How could we pay attention to such inconsequential things given what's occurring between us? It's going to take much more than that to awake either one of us from our enrapturement. Life or death have to be at stake before anything can hope to break us from our bonds.

I slip a finger inside of her softly to further our foreplay. Though actual penetration may be our finish line that doesn't mean we're in a race or anything. Smooth, fast, any way we like it. Time is not of the essence as we serenely touch the other in ways we save for our most intimate partners. Infringing on the other's most private areas in the most welcoming manner possible.

Around and around, I make my way into her most interior of interiors. A wetness slowly forms around my hand, making me confident that I am touching her in a most enjoyable manner. Up and down I go, letting the big pleasures wait until I get to the nub that rocks her world. I want to warm a girl up before I take her to the outer reaches of ecstasy.

Our tongues continue to intertwine in conjunction with our hands exploring the other's nether regions. Though the latter may incite the most reaction in our bodies, it's not wise to discount the former. A romantic act that we've all been inducted into by storybooks from our childhood is what it is. Once presented to us as simple and romantic, our kissing has had more lascivious connotations attached to it. A lasciviousness that we can both share, one in which any power imbalance immediately corrects itself to a stable equilibrium.

A most unhygienic act made sensual by the two people performing it. Kissing in many different combinations in order to find the right one, and once that combination is found, we move onto another in hopes of recreating the sensation in yet another way. We're trying to add a plethora of kisses into our accumulation of them. An engaging game we play with our mouths, trying to best the other in terms of who can express the most passion through kissing alone. A competition in which we never keep score. All that matters is that we push the other to become the most present, passionate and engaged that they can when it comes to our sexual activities.

And so we challenge the other in a game that leaves us both winners. Her strokes now include my tip in the most gratifying of ways. She uses my precum as a lubricant on an area that may emit pleasure or pain in a moment's notice. Thankfully I'm on the pleasure side of that divide under her caring touch.

Mirroring her own efforts, I press my finger on her clit to a shocked but not completely surprised gasp on her part. She knew I'd eventually make my way up to there, she just didn't know when. Yet it's a pleasurable shock, the one that gets her system really in gear. Her crotch begins grinding against my hand to see if any effort on her part can make the pleasure deeper. Judging by the newfound tenacity in her breaths, it does.

Her hand speeds up its rugged caress of my member. Thankfully I can last a while or else her hand might've very well done me in. It'll take more than that to get me squirting. So I just enjoy the sensations her traction is causing me without worrying about me lasting. I'm sure her hand will get tired before issues of longevity make their way into the act.

Sure enough her hand leaves me and she shakes it around to try and relieve herself from whatever cramps may have occurred. It was fun while it lasted and I'm glad she was able to push through some of the pain on my behalf. Still though, I want this to be an enjoyable experience for the both of us.

So I take my hand out of her and we both sit up and look at each other in the dim light, just taking a tiny break to be with the other. The snow beats on as we wait to see who will make the first move. I'm still hard; no way am I getting soft around her naked body without finishing the deal. Yet the tension that's caused by anticipation sustains, a tension that becomes almost pleasurable as it allows me to think about the many possibilities that could happen. A world of potential springs forth in this empty space between us. What sensual delights can we partake in? What paths could the next contact lead to? This world will close itself off to me when decision time comes, but hopefully the reality will be even better than the fancied.

Suddenly, she makes the decision for me. She lowers herself down to my engorged member and takes me in her mouth. Slow at first, letting me acclimate to the sensation of her warm, wet tongue devoting itself to my most sensitive outreach. Then she begins descending even more, sluggish in her pace, making every centimeter count. Leaving me in a present in which the sheer amount of pleasure I'm receiving overrules the concepts of past and present. Trapping me in a moment I'm completely ecstatic to be trapped in.

And then she works her way down to as far as she can go without discomforting herself. This is where speed comes into the equation. Still slow but minutely faster, she makes her way up in the opposite direction, with her tongue somehow finding its way across the entirety of the surface area that makes up my dick. When she reaches her highest point she begins her descent once more, making sure her tongue guides the way in as enticing a manner possible.

With me fully acclimated to the pleasures she can doll out with her mouth, she commences with the momentum. A lowering and raising so loving that I only need to look into her eyes to confirm that it's there. She plays me like a fiddle and the exact sound of her liking comes out of my mouth to her tuning of choice. My face is contorted into a picture that she probably wishes she could hang up on her wall as proof of her sexual expertise.

All throughout my body, a tingly feeling occurs. In between numb and sensory overload, my body finds itself. It appears to be having trouble containing the pleasures she can give. My movements are not entirely my own; my hands are shaking because my brain is incapable of completely processing the sensations that she is supplying me with.

Control proves to be overrated as my eyelids flicker in time with the momentum of her mouth. I'm half looking up at the plain dark ceiling to further avoid any further unnecessary visual stimuli that may cause me to overload. Probably not the most graceful of faces, but even Gene Kelly would break down if he were to experience this.

Something comes out of me, not the fluids you're thinking of, but something intangible. Something that raises out of my being. Is this a spiritual experience or just me having trouble processing my sensations? Who's to say? I'm certainly no longer a reliable narrator, what with her mind bending pleasure that I can't even begin to describe.

If this really was a competition, well then the scorecard would be imbalanced enough to fall off the board as it's going to take a miracle to come back from this. Do I even want to? I may sincerely take her up on an eternity spent in this state if that were possible.

Fortunately or unfortunately, not even she is powerful enough to keep this up for very long. So back to Earth I return, panting and trying to ground myself once more. Not for long though, because the next target of my affections becomes apparent. Fair is fair, so it's only right that I return the favor, give her a taste of her own medicine so to speak. And what a medicine it is. It really is the cure for whatever sexual frustration or inadequacy one could feel. If you could bottle up what I just experienced and sell it as an antidepressant, then the drug company selling it would have enough cash to buy the Smithsonian.

The female vagina, a puzzle to be solved. I guess women have a bit of a head start in the challenge I'm about to embark on because of their intimate familiarity with it. I'm just glad that straight is the way the majority swings so that way I get a chance to learn and grow instead of all the ladies leaving the licking to the fairer sex. But sometimes the inexperienced eye can find an insight or two. Go to places they don't know they're not supposed to tread and find hidden delights along the way.

So it's there where I lower myself. I want to see if I can in any way shape or form repay the breathtaking pleasure that she bestowed upon me back. I slow down on descent, letting my warm breath tease the pleasures that are about to unfold for her. She desirously awaits my warm tongue inside the very core of my being. But for now, my warm breath vaporizing against the skin that surrounds her most erogenous of zones will have to do.

Taking my time I intently close the distance between my mouth and her lower hole. My lips wrap around it, gently massaging her wavering quim. All in my own time, I don't want to jump the gun, do I? No, it's the buildup of anticipation that I seek. To reach the peak in which she can't wait anymore and then deliver on the promises that my nonverbal mouth is making.

And so the time comes to get my tongue in on the action. Out from my mouth it goes and onto the outer folds of her opening. Slowly my tongue makes its way around the clock euphemism that I'm employing and with it, her breaths start to become much shallower and more inconsistently paced. I'm really breaking her out of her rhythm, so to speak.

Yet these are just surface pleasures. The real fun will come when I make my way into her inner folds and then her nub. Yes, even after this great start more enticing prospects await. However, I choose to be happy with what I have right now. The ability to taste her most sensual skin and to unhurriedly make my tongue across her most intimate parts.

Swaying, my tongue circumscribes the exterior of her opening, leaving no exterior untouched. Round and round, up and down my tongue goes in equal measure. Like a paintbrush my tongue intently sweeps against her on this area that it's decided to make it's canvas.

But once the backdrop is completed it's time to delve into her lower depths. Rigid is how I make my tongue in order to better peruse her extent. I lower myself even more into her being, like a submarine getting ready to explore the ocean depths. I reach in using my tongue. With what little movement I have I twist and turn my tongue around, ensuring that she feels the full extent of the contact it can bring.

Somehow the high sense of pleasure that I have managed to instill in her only becomes higher the further into her being I go. But even with so much to motivate there's only so far my tongue can go into her. A tongue is many things, but it's not long. And besides, I don't want to wear out my tongue doing a facsimile parody of penetration, especially when I have better tools to do that at my disposal.

Instead, I move my tongue to other pastures. Using my two fingers to pry open her upper folds, my tongue finds its way to her clit and begins its final descent. A nudge is the only action I need to make her gasp at first but I know that soon enough her standards will increase. Luckily, I'm more than able to meet them.

But while the going is easy I just rest my tongue on her clit, at least for now. I let the warmth and moisture that radiates off of my appendage do most of the work for me. Work smarter, not harder as they always say. Now don't get me wrong, there will come a time in which effort is key. But for now why not lie back and let undemanding pleasures unfold?

Her breaths tell the tale of someone who is feeling deep pleasure throughout her being. One that not only physical sensations can account for. For deep inside her are feelings of comfort, contentment and affection that join forces with these more visceral sensations. Her interior and exterior worlds collide in such a staggering manner that she has little choice but to continue to subject herself to my ample pleasures. Thankfully it's a choice that she is more than happy to agree to.

In her posture of relaxed repose, a tenacity has invaded her. Starting from my tongue and making its way into her innermost being, this euphoria has infected her, puppeteering her every move. And her movement is quasi-stillness, preferring to lie back and let my mouth take ahold of her.

And so I begin my movement around her clit. A circular motion if there ever was one. Careful not to cut my tongue on my teeth, I make my tongue as straight as it can be and serenely carry my tongue across the small little bump from which she seems to derive so much pleasure from in a counterclockwise formation.

I take great care to maintain a consistent pace as my tongue rolls around her pleasure epicenter, not too fast and not too slow either. She is able to predict what location she expects to find my tongue and when, but not exactly what sensations she'll feel. In my quest to pleasure her contentedly I'm revealing that even she doesn't know the half of what her body can feel. Somewhat familiar, yet hard to predict sensations find their way into her being, all the while deriving pleasure from them.

A mix of the known and unknown is what's driving her various gasps and moans, with me serving as the bandleader. Though we have done this act many times before and will hopefully continue to do so long afterwards, every time seems to bring about somewhat distinct sensations. A lick on her clit could feel one way on a given day and fairly different the next given the surrounding circumstances.

Yet that just makes it all the more fun. A new surprise awaiting for every encounter we have. And believe me, we have a lot of encounters. However, they never seem to be repetitious. How could they be when we have the sight of a naked man and a naked woman that has long been kept from society's visage coming together to express love, lust, enjoyment, gratification, sensuality, commonality, dissimilarities, connection, divisions, traction, embracement, fun and all the wonderful sensations sex can provide to them on their own terms? And how lucky we are to be the naked man and woman in question.