Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
In Zest To Us
The breeze billowed the silken layer of her blouse, revealing a glimpse of the shapely rise of a plentiful breast entrapped in its undergarment. Her hair fell around her shoulders framing her almond shaped green eyes, the gentle sweep of her upturned nose above her mischievous mouth. She licked her lips as she drank, a small pink tongue that leisurely tasted and moistened, that the warm air quickly evaporated. Her voice was gentle, calming with a quirky sense of mirth, her smile lit up her surroundings no matter how drab.
He watched her in the golden sunlight, drinking in her womanly essence, unknowingly sexually arousing. Parts of him always stirred just thinking about her, but in her presence, he was so overwhelmed with desire, it was all he could do to refrain from reaching out for her.
She came into his life as a gentle breeze coming up from the sea and swathed everything in her presence with an alluring charm, an inclusiveness of undivided attention. She listened attentively and shared her worldly knowledge; she showed an interest in everything with a ceaseless curiosity.
She brushed against his hand as she reached for more wine, she did not notice an electric spark that exchanged between them, but smiled that captivating vision, stirring his desire. He averted his eyes because he did not want her to see his longing to be connected to her. He did not want her to see that he undressed her in his mind, slowly, allowing the fabrics of her clothes to fall to the floor as he stroked her neck as it arched towards him.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and lowered his lips to nipples that he worked with his tongue to hard erectness. His imaginings had gone further and further overtime, asleep or awake he could put himself with her at any time, each time the scenario would differ as he got closer to his goal. Her asking him to make love to her.
He dragged himself back to the table, to the laughter and chatter, the clink of glasses and the eating of food, he had long given up trying to overcome his feelings, he quietened himself with the knowledge of her nearness, and how empty his life would be without her in it, in whatever capacity.
She arose from the end of the table and walked towards the kitchen, he could not help but watch her as her hip swayed her way. She kept herself fit and her legs were accentuated with heels which clicked their way across the floor. She always made an entrance wherever she went; she was quite captivating with her mood, her temperament and her ability to encompass people with her generosity of spirit.
Her skirt swathed around her legs as she moved, strong calves above toenail painted feet. How he wished he could take those feet and smother them in kisses, massage his way into her soul and suck his life force passion into her toes. He wanted to hear her catch her breath, to tremble at his gentle touch and for her to bite her lip as she writhed in tingled ecstasy.
He looked around the table at the familiar faces of family and friends; he returned the smiles and pleasantries but was ever aware of her absence. He knew that he had to control his craving, the yearning that kept his mind from being still, she filled his thoughts and he knew that he had to contend himself with the fact that he just loved her, pure and simple.
As she returned to the table she laid her hand on the shoulder of another who in turn laid his hand on hers, a touch that spoke a thousand words or just an unspoken sign of affection. He was indeed jealous of anyone being able to freely touch her, to kiss her let alone make love to her. The thought of anyone but him penetrating her body, making her wet and sweat, rising her to orgasm, the power of this act made him tremble.
He reached for his wine to steady his thoughts, to unravel himself from his other intoxication, his imaginings of make believe encounters. Of secret trysts and the nearness and nakedness of lovers, the looks and caresses of bodies that crave for each other’s touch. He knew that it was just a fantasy that he had to contain, control and accept the fact that he must avert his attention and his emotions.
For she is his father’s wife and step-mother to him.
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.