Your Touch

I stepped out of the bathroom and there you were. Waiting for me. The towel on my head moved slightly to the side when you kissed my forehead. A string of wet hair escaped its cottony prison and fell onto my shoulder. You looked at me. A small drop of water slowly made its way down my naked skin, barely leaving a glittery path for your eyes to follow.

Your eyes. They observed the drop’s movements and were staring at its pearly shape sliding down on me. You lifted your finger and traced the slippery way paved by the drop. Your movements were slow and gentle, only leaving a faint sensation. On my collarbone, between my breasts, down my belly. You were exploring me.

Not a word uttered. Your touch was your voice. One step closer towards me, your finger stopped its walk, one second. I held my breath. Continuing into the direction you had planned to go. Lips parted. Your tongue entered my mouth with vigorous passion. Your finger circled my swollen clit.

The drop had now disappeared into my wet playground. Tongue circling, finger circling. I moaned. Words were not needed. A bite on my lip, a pinch on my clit, a hand firm on my neck. You didn’t let go. The bite stung, the pinch stung, the hand kept me in place.

Waves of pleasure travelled through my body, twitching, dancing, liberating. No words were uttered. They were not needed. I could feel your touch. I felt you and I knew you loved me.