© Sven The Elder - November 2004

We were taking tea when she asked the question.

"What do you think of when you're making love?"

I thought for a moment and then responded, "Many things, the pleasure of sliding into you, feeling you ripple around my hardness. The depth of colour in your eyes as we gaze into each others' soul. The feeling of your muscles as I cup your ass in my hands, pulling you even further onto me. Many things, but most of all the love I feel for you at that moment..."

She laughed a little at the response. Trailed her fingers over the back of my hand and finally said, "Much the same as me then."

But I wondered. I wondered at my own perhaps slightly trite response, but the conversation changed and it left my mind for the moment.

Later I climbed into bed alongside my already half-asleep lover. She lay, naked, with her back to me as I slid under the cover. I lay on my back thinking again about what I felt while making love to the lovely form now lying beside me. 'He' stirred languidly to my thoughts, thoughts of slipping inside my love. I 'wanted ' to feel that slide.

In the low light of the lamp we leave lit at night I watched as unbidden and almost remote from me my fingers traced the line of her back bone, gently to the furrow of her bottom. She sighed gently and wriggled a little under my touch. He stirred again, more purposefully now as he realised his time approached.

I used both hands and ran my finger tips down again, this time tracing on down, over the nether cheeks to the cross that marks the spot that followed through will guide me to her centre. She stretched her arms upwards a little, her low-slung nipples reddening and growing before my gaze.

She groaned in the pleasure of the touch, and slid back towards me, spooning me, guiding my hardness to the cross which opened as she moved her right leg over the top of my left. She reached down and stroked me - right hand gripping round him, left cupping my balls - squeezing gently. The feeling exquisite - that borderline between pain and pleasure.

My turn now, my left hand under her body cupping her breast, half rolling her nipple in my fingertips - that motion she loves so much. My other hand is cupping her lightly furred mound gripping and holding her wetness - god how she lubricates when we're like this.

She moves and in a flash my tip is resting, nestling in her entrance. She flexes a little and I'm an inch inside. We pause and I feel her open to allow me to enter - she pushes down and I flex up and we both gasp at the continual slide so deep inside. With my hand on her tummy I can almost feel from outside how deep I've gone.