This Is Bliss

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Making my business trip pleasurable.
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I wake up smiling. Grateful to have such a good life, bursting with happiness, glad for good friends to share it with. Friends who share private moments. Friends like you. I float through the morning, mind lost in reverie, excited by the challenge of writing to inspire and thrill you. How to create prose that stirs the senses, opens the eyes and ears to real surroundings, tunes the tongue to actual tastes, and sends chills of recognition along the surface of the skin?

I ponder this as I engage in the comforting rituals of packing, driving, parking, riding. Standing in line, shoes off, shoes on, sitting at the gate. Guessing who might be on adventure, on family holiday, on business. Fascinated by women wobbling on heels too tall, purses too large, ankles seeming ready to collapse any second. Boarding the plane, marveling at this humbling experience we call travel, such a poignant reminder of our interdependence. Affirming my trust in people who build, maintain, and operate my modes of transportation safely; who provide me with a clean, safe place to bathe and sleep; who prepare my food so my body is nourished and not stricken with disease. Remembering part of the prose that has guided my life since childhood, I think: "We are all children of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars...in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy." Yes I do. Yes I am.

Feeling so full of love for the world, I return to thoughts of my own loved ones, my dearest friends, my dearest you. The travels we've shared, sensual adventures, intimate pleasures. I finally give up the pretense of reading, having looked at the same page repeatedly, the words floating past my eyes with fleeting comprehension. My mind, instead, is full of you. I put down my book, close my eyes, and leave my fellow passengers to wonder at the beaming smile on my face and surrender to a daydream.

Standing, smiling, eyes slowly closing as we lean towards each other. Lips touching, so softly at first, then our mouths open as our kiss deepens. Knees tremble, breath quickens, heart races with waves of joy and desire. Time has no meaning. My whole world is this kiss.

Too soon I must awake from my reverie, yet continue to imagine that you're close. Smile. Wink. Intimate caress. Your hand on my lower back and sliding lower. I marvel at how aroused I've become by the mere thought of you stroking my cheek, your lips against the curve of my collarbone. As I walk outside, it's not the sun beams I feel. It's your fingers tracing patterns along my arms, sending chills across my skin and jolts of molten desire to my core. It's not the cool breeze, but your hands sliding through my hair as I feel that delicious, maddening, pulsating ache; the need to clench my muscles against your cock as you press into me, so tight and wet. Refocusing long enough to drive, park, exchange greetings at the desk, settle into the room, return to the lobby for wine and contemplation. Now free once again to imagine us flirting over cocktails, laughing at everything and nothing, feet tangled together under the table, eyes sparkling with mad passion.

Dinner time, time to revel in the luxury of food, to celebrate the preciousness of life, to satisfy a need as primal as sex and just as scrumptious. Celebrating that we're as amazing together in the kitchen as we are in bed. Each aroma, flavor, and texture tantalizes and stimulates. Sipping smoky scotch, I'm tasting your kisses. Sucking raspberry sauce from my fingers, I'm longing to provide you with that most intimate of oral pleasures. With the delicate almost-not flavor of hamachi sashimi, I'm lost in how deliciously amazing I feel when licking and sucking and teasing until you come, drinking in every last drop. My gift to you. Only to you.

Succumbing to urges that can no longer be denied, yearning for release, yet determined to savor the sensations coursing through my body as long as possible, I return to the room, slip into a bathing suit slowly, hands caressing my generous hips and thighs, shoulders, enormous breasts finally set free from their binding 38-H minimizer bra. Gliding into the warm pool, grateful for saline not chlorine, luxuriating in warm sea water enveloping my entire being. I float, spin, dive, glide. Buoyant, languid, glad to be alone. Releasing shoulder straps, my breasts float free, weightless, and this is enough. Shivering, gasping, pulsing, sighing as the first orgasm ripples through my abdomen. It's just the beginning. Slowly I bind my breasts once again, just long enough to move from pool to hot tub. Easing into the steam, releasing the girls to bob happily in the bubbles, my nipples hard as pebbles nested in swollen areola, tingling as I pinch and tickle them. Turning, resting my face in my arms against the ledge, positioning my clitoris against a jet of water. Moaning softly, sighing as tremors radiate through my body. I imagine your tongue in place of the water jet, and the tremors increase. Yes. Yes.

A door opens, and subtly I return my body to an acceptable public state as a group of fellow drunken travelers enter the pool area. Drying off, friction of towel against stimulated skin, enjoying the challenge of resisting the next orgasm threatening to burst forth in front of everyone. Gracefully wrapping my hair, wrapping my body in modesty, returning to my room.

Once inside, finally in privacy, I cease my subtle teasing. I am a woman on fire, whirling to music, dancing naked through the room, twirling about in the city lights shining through the open window, laughing with pleasure. Shower on hot. Rich lather sliding down trembling body, it's your hands massaging my hair. It's your hands sliding over face, neck, shoulders, chest, breasts. Arching my back, it's your hands brushing backs of knees, stroking buttocks and thighs, slowly exploring inner folds, relentlessly increasing pressure. Pressing deeper, moaning and gasping. Crying out with sharp waves of joy. Knees buckling, eager to lie down, I rub every inch of skin with the warm, thick towels. Trembling and shaking, slipping naked between clean sheets, sighing with pleasure. Cradled in pillowy softness, grasping my vibrator, it's your cock I'm stroking. Your arms embracing me. Our legs wrapping around each other.

I imagine we're kissing, and we sigh together, breathe together, hands caressing each other. I melt as your cock slips into me and begins to buzz. Stroking slowly, slowly, slowly. Hips rocking back and forth, back and forth, easy and luscious. The waves begin again, and my muscles grasp you tightly, rhythmically, pulsing with our heartbeats. Your moans are music, my sighs the counter-melody. Lost in a symphony of delight. Fucking longer, deeper, crescendo, prestissimo, and I'm sobbing with joy. Finally, finally, I call out your name, hips bucking, muscles quaking. Oh joyous explosion! Oh sweet release! Collapsing, gasping, smoldering in your arms, your thrusts grow rough, hard, fast, strong. My orgasm rocks me to the core, and as I cry your name, I come again. I collapse, utterly spent, and smiling.

Yes. This is bliss.

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