Cold (when it changed...)

Monday, 5 February 2007

On such a frigid day, I hope you are thinking of creative ways to keep warm.

I'll want to hear about them. . .

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You phrase it as a request. But I take it as a command. Again, it is implied in your name, implied in your e-mail address. And so I tell you...

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It's very cold outside. Even I can admit that. No more bravado about having grown up in NY back when even in the city there were real winters. No more crowing about the bright sun and clear air. This isn't Vermont and it is much too cold and I feel assaulted.

The cats know how to deal with the cold. They have adopted the heating vents as their personal fireplaces. They know what they are doing. When no hot air is forthcoming, Marko scratches at the grate to demand more heat.

Sometimes each beast will stake out its own favorite hot spot and sit there looking possessive. Sometimes I will find one stretched out in sleepy sensual satisfaction. And sometimes, if they are both in a good mood, the siblings will curl up together and lick each other all over, or stretch out facing each other, inviting languid caresses.

I will follow their lead.

Marko has momentarily deserted his post at his favorite pseudo fireplace in the basement family room, and I decide to give his method a try. It seems crazy to be taking off my clothes when I want to be warmer, but I crave the hot air along the length of my shuddering body.

I strip quickly - there is no one to tease – and stretch out on the carpet. By positioning my naked body in various angles to the little floor vent, I can direct the heated breath of my house onto whichever area of flesh needs warming.

I stretch out luxuriantly, sinking into a feline sensuality, responding to the hot air as if it issued from a lover's lips hovering over first my legs, then my breasts, and now, oh now he is blowing straight up between my thighs.

I am hot in more ways than one. Of its own volition, my left hand moves to my right breast and begins to fondle it almost absent-mindedly. Moans issue forth from my parted lips, and the hand, whose hand?, presses in deeper, moving in wider circles. My right hand finds itself moving downward, pressing deep into my belly to massage my womb, my pelvis starts rocking back and forth...

From somewhere deep in my subconscious issues a vague ghost, a haunting dream of a late-night visitor on a moonless night, faint scars left by a ruthless writer, uncertain signs of a violation of my mind... the memory triggers desire, the hot breath inflames it, the desire broadcasts a message, and the demon lover returns.

And now it is YOUR warm breath that blows across my skin, fueled by the fire of your desire. Your hand replaces mine on my breast, and takes possession. True to your name, your loving caress suddenly turns to a cruel pinch of my nipple. I cry out, and gasp with pain and pleasure.

And from then on I am lost, as your epic of ferocious lust explodes into life. Heat consumes me, and as my consciousness floats off into another plane, I think I will never be cold again.

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The heat is what drew me to you. I could feel it coming off of you in waves, from miles away standing out against the cold gray of the cloudy sky and the concrete ground.

Like a moth fluttering towards a flame, I followed it. . .and what I found was fiercer than any fire.

I watched for long minutes, my jaw dropped, as you stretched and curled, oblivious to anything but your own pleasure. Like a cat, a savage feral tigress, you crawled and prowled, and arched your back and stretched your arms and legs, searching for the perfect pose, the most comfortable spot in front of the fire. Your muscles, taut and lean, rippled beneath your shining skin. . .shining with a sheen of sweat as the warmth worked its way through you.

Pleasure was your only goal. Stripped of clothes and thought and propriety and decency, you only wanted pleasure, as much as you could grab. Your hands began to explore, bestowing a pleasure of their own. . .

And I could take no more. I was in the presence of a goddess and a beast, and I had to tame her.

I reached out. . .

And a perfect heaven was my reward. . .


(an amazing story)


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And a perfect ending.

Thank you for liking it. I wanted to give something back.

And here in the world of our words I am yours to tame.

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We are taming each other, I think, exploring the edges of our imaginations.

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Tuesday, 6 February 2007

Find a sunbeam, and curl up nice and warm, my precious little kitten, my wicked little pet.

I dreamed of cats last night. . . gentle housecats, and wild tigers. . .sleek, darting cheetahs, and somber lionesses. . .they growled and roared and raked my flesh with their claws. . .as they toyed with me. . .

and then I was devoured. . .

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and then i became his kitten.