Diane

Shimmering finish, two-tone sunburst--fiery, woody reds dissipating into a pitch outline. You are dramatic, but solid and earthy in your complexion. The steely protrusions from your body add a bright and modern magnificence to your classic, colorful, visceral character--they are evident as foreign installations, yet are consumed by the natural fire of your beauty. From the moment I join you, sweeping you into the cradle of my grip, you are as eager to meet me as the finest of lovers. Shall we dance, my dear?

Your long, elegant, black neck shines with the dull allure of that seductress from across the ballroom, teasing up the hem of her gown to reveal the smooth, contoured stockings underneath. I reach out to touch this midnight angel--and my fingers settle upon the gentle roundness of your throat and caress, with firm motions, the finely wound detail of your voice. I brush against the fine thinness of your high, soft tones all the way to the foundation of your strong, animal murmurs. My other hand moves down your body with slow, deliberate carefulness to catch that teasing banter that rose just above a whisper as my settled index and middle finger slip towards your head with grace and ease. My thumb pushes against the back of your neck, and a single, silvery cord touches that ebony surface. You again whisper, and your desire becomes as evident as mine. My other thumb sits nestled atop your breast, and I begin to tease that low whisper into a confident murmur with a gentle sweep of my digits.

The room hums with sweet clarity as you sigh out of the pit of your range. You trap me in that sexy, rumbling, warm growl--you are as basic a creature as I--you need this entangling of the senses, and you respond to same call I do. Fill the dead air with life--galvanize it with the piercing hum of your siren song.  You feel that sweet, rich note travel through every inch of your body as much as I do. With a careful sliding of my finger, never once breaking our embrace, I pull your confidence into a rich swoon. We start slow and deep as you adjust to my fingers' calloused touch--but the hardness of my flesh finds purchase against your ribbed voice, catching the beginnings of a promising scale.

Tension, and release. Tension, and release. Your talent moves from the pit of your heart to the strength of your chest. My ring and index dance their way up your contours, and the dovetailing singing elevates to clear, cool notes as you begin to really sing. I am still gentle with your body down below, moving with confidence lower, and lower, and lower. And the lower my fingers crawl, the higher you sing--abbreviated, melodious gasps now characterize your voice, and the intervals between your lyrics become quicker, and quicker. Do not fear, darling--I will be gentle.

I elevate your proud head as we swing about the room, my head dipping and my toes tapping to the rhythm of your song. Light catches the edges of your veneer and you beam with the happiness I also feel, humbled to be complicit in the miracle of our union. Your pulse thumps in rhythm with mine as we enjoy our dance--my hand slides nearer and to your body, closer to that forbidden ground where even the slightest hesitation or distraction with break your thundering, rounded melody into a strident catcall. Too soon, or too late? It matters not--here we are; we have committed to the course. The rhythm has become interspersed with improvised, passionate rolling as I pull you closer and closer. I massage your low-end again, and you return to a deep, soulful bellow--but you are not content to stay there for long now that the mood has us in a firm grasp. I acquiesce to your rebellious spirit, and return to the singing middle of your chest, careful not to yet splinter your words against the piercing highs of your range.

But there is a minor difficulty in your major intents--you seem uncertain as your pull a quarter of the way back. What is it, love? Is this not what you wanted? Or are you playing a game with me? My fingers experiment just a little as they draw away from their marching ascent as I try to read you. A long, mysterious phrase escapes in your familiar, full voice, and I wonder if you have the resolve that I possess. My fingers leave you to think just long enough to brush some character into your thoughts, thinking that, perhaps, it is your tone that I have mistaken. But you always were a clever one--ripping right back into your bright voice, you now carry one with a sharp, honeyed pluck. You little cheat, I laugh! But the transition from your smooth dialect to your joking, unassuming quips is one I have no difficulty pursuing--I begin to shove back as I slide a tickle down your body. You laugh, and we carry on now with a stomping confidence in our step. I'm sure the diversity of our character seems odd to others, my dear, but that is just what made us perfect for one another.

I dive back in as you tease me with mischievous banter. I dive and dodge my way through your jabs and respond with my own clever twists and turns. My finger slips a little, and you cough--but we can laugh it off now. We carry on like this for awhile, but soon, you begin to return to your formal, profound seriousness. I too dial back, and we slow our selves down long enough to again enjoy the fullness you have brought to this place. I try to remember where we were, but it matters very little. I kiss my fingers against the inside of your thighs, treading with carefulness the nuanced territory between them. All four fingers touch against your lightest, sweetest tones--you found yourself enjoying a sweeter, clearer sensation than even you ought to have known you were capable of achieving. I too am a little surprised at the loving, simple highs and lows you offer up as you let me feel my way through your most sensitive zones.

And as all good romances end--we reach the apex, a clear resolution from the peak of your upper register. There is no sudden drop as your fluid character descends into a grateful sigh. I work my way backwards, up again to a more casual embrace until we arrive back at your hum, now a lullaby as you retire for the evening. My hand slips from your neck, and I brush your body with a grateful affection. I return you to your resting place where I found you, and even remember to get the light on the way out.

Until next time, my dear. It was a pleasure having you.