maybe not matching is okay (this one is a teeny tiny bit steamy. i think. maybe.)

I barely stir, but you notice.

“Have a good nap?” you ask.

“Had a weird dream,” I mumble, still confused as to where I am.

“About the fake old bald guy from the Six Flags commercials again?”


My eyes are beginning to focus.  I see you standing, facing your closet.  You turn towards me and smile.  Then immediately you go back to picking an outfit.

You’re wearing a light pink bra and black lacy underwear.  You look… delicious.

“You’re prrrrretty,” I say.

“But I don’t match.  Could you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe…  but you’re going to have to earn it.”

I roll over, reach into my bag on the floor and pull out my camera.

I snap a quick pic of you from behind.

“What are you doing?” you ask, turning towards me.

“Baking a cake.”

I take another pic.

“Stopppp,” you mostly faux-whine.

“Sure,” I respond, taking another pic.

“That’s a pretty big camera.”

“It’s not the size of the tool, it’s how you use it,” I inform you.

“Oh yeah?  And do you know how to use it?” you ask.

“Naw.  Not really.”

You laugh.  I take another shot.

“I don’t have time for this,” you say, mostly to yourself.

I throw the covers off and kneel on the foot of the bed.


You notice I am just wearing boxer briefs.

“You get pretty comfy for a little nap,” you say.


You cover your face.

I lower the camera and point it at your chest.


“You!” you yell.

Then you toss a shirt — that’s not in the running for tonight’s outfit — at me.

“Come here.”

“No,” you reply as you walk towards me.

I gently push your hair away from your face.

You close your eyes as my finger tips lightly touch your cheek.

Your “I’m going to be late” is interrupted by my kiss.


At first.

Then I take your face in my hands and we kiss the way people kiss when they know they’ll never tire of something.

Where you’re kissing for everything that has come before.

For everything that is yet to come.

And for…

The ever-burning desire that makes you simply inevitable.

We stop kissing.

We try to catch our breath.


You don’t fight me on that one.

I step to the side of you.  I turn your face a little.


You bite your lip.


I sit you on the bed.  I cross your legs. I lean you back.


I put you on your stomach.  Facing me.  Feet up in the air.



You roll over on your back.  You let your head hang over the edge of the bed.  You place a single finger in your cleavage.


You get up on your knees.  You unhook your bra, but hold it in place.

Deep breath.


You let the bra drop on the bed.  You cover your chest with your right arm.





You smile.

You bounce up off the bed and run to the closet.

“That’s all you get,” you sing.

My mouth opens.


Then I Hmmmm.

I pick up your bra and put it over your teddy bear’s eyes.

“You do not want to see what happens next,” I assure him.  (He’s a little over-protective, you know.)

I put the camera down.

I walk up behind you, as you pretend to look in your closet.

I wrap my arms around you.

I kiss the back of your neck.

Your shoulders.

The side of your neck.

You turn to face me.

You pull me in close, pushing your breasts against me.

You grab my head and pull it down.

You ever so lightly kiss my lips.

“Know what I want?” you purrrrrrask.

“What?” I askreply with a slight voice-crack.

“To go to Six Flags!”

You push me away and run out of the room.

When some of the blood returns to my brain, I chase after you.

You’re standing behind the dining room table.

Your eyes are blazing.

I take two steps one way, you take two steps away from me.

I try the other direction.  Same thing.

You’re laughing excitedly.

Suddenly I bolt clockwise around the table.  You do too.  You pull down a chair to block me.

I chase you.

Through the kitchen.

I chase you.

Into the living room.

Around and around.

Then you run into the back of the couch.

I’m on you immediately.

I bite your shoulder.

My hand slides down your back.


My underwear down.

Yours pushed aside.

You laugh even more excitedly.

A little out of control.

And then…



I hold you up, as you hang onto the closet rod with both hands, with your legs wrapped around me.

“The… red… dress… is… hot…” I… say…

“Shut up,” you reply.


I’m not sure where you end and I begin.

We’re on the floor, playing our part in a damp mass of blankets and couch cushions and us.

You kiss me.

I wince slightly, as I try to decide if it was the biting or the slap that did the damage to my lips.

I don’t care.

I kiss you back.

You put your head on my chest.

I close my eyes.

I am starting to drift off into the best kind of sleep ever.

I feel your hand running down my chest.

Down my stomach.

I feel your lips against my ear.


14 thoughts on “maybe not matching is okay (this one is a teeny tiny bit steamy. i think. maybe.)

  1. This was sooo not safe for work. Was working on a towns names database and before I knew it I’d typed in the word “Orgies” instead of “Ogies”.

  2. Peterrrr! Long time, no note.

    Lovely post.

    I think it is a bit steamy but in the 15 rated way, not the 18. You know?

    Shit, there are bees everywhere.
    This has nothing to do with your post.

  3. “I’m not sure where you end and I begin.”
    LOVE LOVE LOVE this line. I wrote it down in a poem(? well, an attempt at a poem, really) recently. It’s so beautifully and truthfully sensual.

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