Sexy time series, Jen comes out of hiding!

Why hello there dear friends.  And to what do I owe the pleasure?

OH!  Well, let’s see, hm.

There’s the giveaway.  Congratulations Karen Foster!  You should have an email from me and should be hearing from Tehlia soon.  And thank you Tehlia for making this happen!  Folks, Karen entered 6 times in a row!  That woman is persistent!

You didn’t come here for that little tidbit, did you?  You just want me to get to the good stuff, huh?  I hear ya “Well, get on with it.”

You heard the news that THE JenJen of Jen’s Voices was guest hosting today, didn’t you?  Well you won’t be disappointed.  Hope you brought your appetite and maybe some handy wipes, you know, just in case.

There seems to be a moment, that when it happens you are forever changed. Forever altered in some way, shape or form.

No one knows when the moment will come; we only know it exists after it happens. Because we are caught off guard, because we go swimmingly oblivious to it hovering, when it hits, well, we are knocked on our fine little asses.

And there we sit.

Pondering the next move.

Should we….Should I?

Here is me, scratching my head and rapping my once-manicured, now destroyed fingertips on the table top.

I say: I should.

I did.

It happened without my explicit instruction; I actually blamed it on the intoxicating scent of him for a while. Inhaling deeply, the pheromones mixed with bottled aromas awakened my skin, my insides…all were ready.

Ready to be taken.

Funny how a scent can do just that. Once fully calm and collected, then in the space between heartbeats: chest heaves and sparkles appear behind your eyes.

Nearly begging, my voice quivers to deliver a single statement.

“I….I figured you had forgotten me.”

He touches my cheek, and drips his finger down my collarbone, eyes locked on mine; neither of us blink.

His fingers on my skin leave a trace of goosebumps on my cheek; on my collarbone the effect is noticeable through the thin blouse I wear.

Wore that on purpose, too….we women always do.

My breathing is becoming heavy, and I can barely stand the twitching between my legs. I have never wanted a man more than this one.

Never wanted to feel his skin on mine, pull his hair while he pulls mine, cry out in pleasure together….

“I never forgot…”

“this….”

And just like that, his head bends and a hot tongue traces his finger’s path.

“…or this….”

a strong arm pulls me in so that I am convex to his body; middles touching, feet and head arched.

“….or even this….”

One swift movement of the other arm and my head slams into his; I am lost inside a small moment.

As we search for answers inside each other, the frantic nature of the question takes a fever pitch. Once focused, calculated sensual aggression, we have now turned into deliberate, hunger-driven euphoria.

The truth is, we remember more than we ever rightly knew. The taste of my skin, the taste of his….the scent of his sweat and desire mixed with my own…these things are the icing atop a cake we never sampled. Only did we talk about taking a bite, flirt with a nibble. A crumb here, a finger swipe of the frosting there…

Not this time.

No, for this time we fully devour each other. Licking, playfully biting, digging with tightly clenched fingers… I crawl atop, across him, climbing along his length, letting no spot of skin go untouched. He receives me, and in turn yanks, pulls and nibbles; My lips brush against his arm, chest and legs, sampling whatever I can along the way. Sweet, salty flavors. Sounds come from somewhere beneath comprehension, one chasing quickly the one before.

Sometimes, you really shouldn’t skip dessert.