We have trekked across the Mongolian steppe on relatively small horses, but they gave us the biggest one out of the herd, cause with your legs, curvy pillars keeping the sky in place, your feet could practically reach the ground while riding. There’s not a soul around for miles and miles. Our guide is a quiet teenager who barely speaks any English. He’s quite the handyman though and he can navigate by the stars.
At night he teaches us how to set up our yurt. I help you to wash your hair with a tub we carry around on the pack horses. We heat the water over a wood fire. We sit around the fire afterwards to dry, we pull thick covers over us. We eat local fruit, rice and meat. There is complete silence except for the grazing of the horse and the odd throat singing of our guide that causes a trance like feeling you could get from listening to music like the one from Zhu.
We’ve never seen the stars burn so brightly. It’s only when it gets too chilly that we can break away from gazing at them. We go to our yurt. We are tired from being in the saddle since dawn. I cuddle up next to you and gently suck your perfectly pert nipples, with the color of dark red wine, but they taste infinitely better. We’re so tired that we are barely moving and your moaning at this point is even vaguer than it usually is during this phase. We’re hanging in there, between sleep and wakefullness.
The flickering flames outside are throwing dancing shadows over us, as though we have a mute audience cheering us on, ever so gently. My right hand is sliding up and down your thighs. Skirting around your enslaving triangle. I lift myself up a bit and pelt your firm body with a mild drizzle of kisses, cupping the skin between my lips, like am nipping at ice cream. I go all the way down to your knees and back up again. Your right hand reaches for my left hand and plays with my fingers, which sends sharp twinges to the top of my penis, making it pulsate, crying out for more, more of you.
The desire to taste you, your unique taste, the honeyed oyster like mix of your fluid intimacy, takes hold of me. It burns all along my spine and if I don’t lock my tongue onto your most private territory I am going to shatter into a thousands pieces of searing pain, incomparable to anything I know. When I hear you moan louder it’s like a chord is spanned between us, heart to heart, exchanging male-female energy until a peaceful, enveloping, restoring balance is reached. You whisper something about being able to manage only one today.
I know that by one you mean one orgasm, we don’t need to spell things out to each other. I lick you slow, then fast, then slow again. When you push yourself against my mouth, I break off contact, so your body jerks towards me hungrily, and for a second I deny you what you crave, then I dive in and lick you way faster and harder than before. I draw circles around your clit. Then lifting the hood suddenly and flicking it directly which makes you cry out finally. Then I slow down again.
I slip one finger in, and carefully start making a rhythmic come here movement, I keep licking, and afraid to hurt you I reluctantly slip in a second finger, when I feel your back arch, I push them slightly up and I look for the area that feels like the top of my gums, and stimulate it in regular strokes, still licking you. Your moaning pattern takes on that pre orgasm melody, you moan and breathe fast and then there is a stretch of silence as though you’ve actually stopped breathing then with a loud sigh it starts again and then it drops off again.
If I continue now you will climax, but I want to hold you in my arms when you enter your cloud of release, I want be there with you. I slide on top of you, after teasingly being inside you, with just the top, holding myself in check, I make you put your legs together, so my legs are now alongside yours, this creates a direct pressure on your pubic bone and clitoris, it’s then I go in all the way with one quick thrust. I penetrate you with sliding, grinding circles. With my heads under your head, under your pillow, not touching your hair, but clutching your pillow and holding your forehead against mine, which creates this cerebral buzz, as though I want to seep right through you and melt into you. I feel like am cracking open, you are so beautiful that am being swallowed by your being, anything that I am I have to share with you here, now, all that you are I have to taste, drink, incorporate into my fundament, there is sacred realization that this is how the incomprehensible force that drives the universe has intended it.
Here we are at our best, I am now all love for you, and all that I am is now just one drive and that is to maximize your well being, to reward you a million fold lasting eternally for the gift of You, for existing, for being here with me, for filling the nagging void that only you have finally filled, you do it when we talk, you do it when I stare at you and you smile still half shocked no matter how many things I have eaten you all up with my eyes, this feeling of You, of bleeding into you, of breathing you, of being fed by you, is now so expansive that I have to explode in you, and although my climax is a plunge into the purest wave of love, covering my whole body, seeing and feeling you climax here, under me, safe and finally completely secure all nervousness and subtle defensiveness lifted, is what crowns my life, my existence, my manhood, my naturally ordained purpose to nurture the woman that makes me feel she is worthy of all creative force I can muster. I had to find myself first to be able to be with you, and now I can lose myself in you, to grow something bigger than both of us. The word happy falls short.
In this moment, in you, with you, through you, together with you, every past effort, every past blister, every past hard lesson, every experience makes sense, and am grateful to be alive, and to give you a fuller, tastier, more vibrant, more colorful life in which you can wake up to the reality that you are the most cherished woman, and the only creature that nature ultimately seeks to protect above all other creatures, while a man needs to work for his happiness, a woman needs to just be, needs to just accept her value, and select the knight that treasures her above all else. Before we drift off to sleep you say that most precious sentence: ‘I love the way you treat me’. The sentence that enables the deepest, most invigorating sleep, in your arms, still tasting you.