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| Blogs > gypsymoon1275 > The Mind of Gypsymoon |
The Return
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The Return The smell of spices fills the air and there’s a toasty warmth to the kitchen. She bends down to slide another pan of cookies into the oven, sets the timer and then dances across the kitchen with a smile on her face, scooping a new batch of cookie dough onto a pan as she keeps time to the music with her hips and hums along. Lost in her own little world she’s startled by the chirp of her phone. Brushing the little bits of cookie dough onto a hand towel she glances at the message that reads “house to yourself and baking all day huh? What if I said I was going to drop by?” Smiling at the response to the email she had sent the night before, she quickly punches in the house address along with “you’re bluffing” and presses send. She stands looking at the phone for a moment before sadly shaking her head letting out a small wistful sigh and setting it back down. The emails and texts have been fun, but have been kept light since the day he said he wanted to be just friends. While he has occasionally teased about coming to see her or having her meet him somewhere, he has never let it go beyond a friendly banter. It’s been months and by now she’s learned not to let herself get hopeful that she might actually see him again. Half an hour later the oven timer goes off and she pulls the last batch of cookies out and leaves them on the stove top to cool. Taking a deep breath she turns the volume up on the stereo and tries to lose herself in the music again. In spite of her efforts, she finds her thoughts turning down the path in her mind that leads to the place she hides her memories of him. He double checks the house number before quietly opening the door to the breezeway. The sound of muffled music greets him as he approaches the door to the house. He steps up to the door, his hand suspended in the air as he freezes halfway into knocking when he sees her through the door window. She is standing in the middle of the kitchen in a teal nightshirt, barefoot, hair down and curling softly around her shoulders. The sight of her face, expression soft, a faint smile touching the corners of her full lips has him held in place as he watches, not wanting to break whatever spell seems to have possessed her. He’s never seen her like this before and finds himself reminded of how drawn to her he is. Standing transfixed, he watches her glide around the room apparently lost in her own world. As she continues to dance through the kitchen her mind begins painting pictures as the memories begin to roll over her. After all this time she’s learned to just let them come. Resisting just makes it more painful. The music continues to throb around her and she gives herself over to the experience. With eyes dropped closed, face turned upward, long hair fallen like a soft dark curtain down her back, she’s left looking young and vulnerable. Continuing to watch his heart begins to pound faster as he takes in the way the soft cotton of her nightshirt hugs her curves and the hypnotic way her hips seem to flow to the music. As his eyes rake over her they pause on her lips, so soft and full, naturally pouty. The thought of the pleasures they could give have him suddenly rock hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. The pictures start slowly, his sexy smile from across the restaurant the first time they met, his low voice softly saying “last chance to change your mind” outside the room the first time together, the feel of his lips on hers. With this last picture her hand wanders to lightly trace across her lips, the nightshirt slipping off her shoulder leaving the soft skin bare. As the memories come faster and faster, her heart pounds, her cheeks flush and she lets her hands mimic a touch at the base of her throat, a slow stroke down across her collarbone and softly over the swell of her breast. The highlights from every encounter flash in her mind’s eye. The sound of his surprise the first time he lost control with her, the sight of him wrapped around her reflected in the mirror, the feel of his fingers wrapping around her throat and squeezing possessively while buried inside her…all of these and more begin running together. She can hear his voice, whispering in her ear that she’s his girl, how he loves the feel of her when she comes on his cock and how much he loves the feel of filling her up when he comes. In the moments it takes to run through her favorite memories the music shifts to a new song and the spell is apparently broken. As always the final memory in this little corner of her mind is the phone call, the feeling of being blindsided, the bewilderment and most of all the pain. Even after all this time it rolls through her like an excruciatingly slow wave of red hot fire. She takes a shuddering breath while pressing palms to her chest trying to suppress the ache as the pain sharply clutches her heart in its grip. Her shoulders bow under the weight of it for a moment before it passes and she slowly lets her breath out. The moment he sees her stop dancing and seem to crumple a bit, he forgets about knocking and opens the door. Stepping in, he pushes the door closed behind him as he takes the two steps to her side. The moment the door opened her head snapped up and she straightened, flicking away a stray tear. Her eyes are wide and searching, seeming almost wild and frantic as he looks at her with concern. As he steps toward her she looks at him frantically, trying to understand what she’s seeing. It’s nearly impossible for her to believe that he’s actually standing there only inches away now. Her body flushes and pulses at the sight of him. A nervous little laugh slips out as she shakes her head and says, “Great! I’ve finally snapped and started hallucinating!” When tears suddenly rush to her eyes she tries to turn her head, but finds herself unable to move when he firmly pulls her chin back in his direction. She blinks the tears away and looks into his beautiful eyes “you’re really here” she says softly as she reaches up and gently cradles his jaw in her palm. Watching her eyes, still glittering with freshly shed tears he studies their gold green intensity. He remembers how easily he would become lost in them whenever he was with her. Smiling at her statement he simply responds with “yes” before pulling her into his arms, tilting her chin up and brushing his lips against hers. The feel of her warm softness pressed against him and the scent of her perfume fill his head with memories of her. He recalls very clearly the exciting sensual kisses, the feel of her fingers on his skin, constantly moving and leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. His still hard cock throbs as he vividly recalls her warm tight wetness as he would slide himself into her pussy. He grins a bit as he also recalls never needing a lubricant with her because she was always so wet and ready for him. As he holds her close she can smell that special blend of cologne and his particular musk. Her pussy throbs and starts to get wet as she feels his hard cock pressing firmly against her. When he brings his lips to the base of her throat and begins nuzzling his way up her neck she begins trembling. What little resistance might have been left in her snaps as she hears “are you still my girl?” whispered into her ear. Her hands suddenly seem to come to life as she digs her fingers into his hair, pulling his lips to hers, sighing softly at the familiar feel and taste of his mouth. She pauses her kiss long enough to reply to his question with “I’ll always be your girl baby. Always” before returning to the lips she’s missed so much. Her kisses are hungry and demanding. She practically purrs when his hands slide down her back to the curve of her ass. He slips a hand up under the hem of her nightshirt, but freezes when he finds nothing but skin. With a low moan he breaks off the kiss, pulls back and looks down at her with a fierce look in his eyes. “Damn it! Are you serious? You really are the naughty housewife when you’re home aren’t you?” He pulls her back into him, grasping her ass with both hands and roughly jerking her hips into his as he growls “you better show me where the bedroom is before I fuck you right on the kitchen floor!” "If you play with no heart and soul...How can you ever have passion? Without passion what's the point?"  |
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Love, longing, lust... a very sensuous treat.
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9/21/2011 1:03 pm |
You are quite the writer. Loved reading it!
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5/13/2011 7:24 am |
I want some cookies
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LOL...then don't read it  "If you play with no heart and soul...How can you ever have passion? Without passion what's the point?"
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a long story to read...
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