2. Cuddle with Kacey

Transcript

There's something really special about the way my body responds to yours. It's not anything grand or impressive, it's honestly in the small moments, those little feelings you get when caught in the energy of a touch, or a breath, a glance. I invite you to come lie with me and close your eyes, so we can explore the range of ourselves in these moments out of sight.

I'm waiting for you here, under the massive sheets on this ridiculously comfortable bed. There is a hushed electricity passing between my bare skin and the fibers of the cotton that coat me, and the cool air outside of this ruffled hiding place. It sifts over the few parts of me that stick out.

My shoulders and collarbones, the light stubble of my jaw, the single exposed foot that somehow balances out the coolness and the warmth. I can feel the mattress dip as you do, in fact, join me, the warmth of your body contrasted by the coldness of your extremities. I turn to you, and feel your chilled fingers move over my side, over my ribs, feeling the mounds of muscle just behind them as your feet work their way between mine, seeking refuge.

Here, in this space, we both feel comfortable letting out audible shivers, even though the air around us is, in itself, not all that cold. It's almost as if we shiver to acknowledge how good it is to be in one another's arms, unabashedly playful with joy, and alert to all the feelings around us. Your smell is a glorious reminder of your presence, the mixture of your sweat, deodorant, faded shampoo, and those handfuls of scents that one picks up throughout a day.

Body odor so often gets a bad rap, but I find it to be such a comforting sign of presence and life lived. I know you're with me, even if I am not looking at you, as this collage of you fills me. And if that weren't good enough, it gives my heart a small jolt every time it meets my nose, pheromones working their charm as they so often do, and sending my arm under yours, up your back, and pulling you closer to me almost involuntarily.

I rest my forehead on the bridge of your nose, its little heartbeat ringing into you as my hand works its way up the span of muscles in your back. My thumb and its pad coast over the subtle ripples and plateaus of your shoulder blades and the muscles below them, pressing in and up and slowly dragging back down in oval-esque rounds. The soft click of your mouth opening to let out a near-silent sigh is just enough to send a slight grin across my face.

I love knowing you feel good, and if I can be a part of that feeling, then even better. I coast up once more and bring my hand down, fingernails digging trails into you with gentle intensity. The resistance at the very tips of my fingers mixed with the smooth terrain of your backside makes for a thrilling journey that parts my lips too, letting warm air pass between our open mouths as we lie head-to-head in the darkness.

Your hand, in turn, navigates the expanse of my back, tracing the firm bands of muscle that span its middle, apexing just above my ass. You rub your fingers into my dimples and cup me in your palm, calmly working over my round curve that spills into my thick leg. Your fingers push through the soft hairs of my thighs and pull my leg between yours, locking in another piece of our body's puzzle and taking my face in hand.

You trace the rough tips of the hair that sprouts from my face, pushing your ring and middle fingers into its thickening brush in front of my ear, pressing slowly into my lower temple. Once found, you make subtle concentric circles, letting the tense muscle give way under your tips. I swear I can see the colors change behind my eyelids and it feels so incredible to feel your weight against me, such a concentrated point of space.

Oh, I can't help but vocalize how good you feel, the buzz of release from my top muscle radiating through my forehead. I realize I've gone a bit slack-jaw in this moment, fully lost in the dance your fingers are sharing on the curve of my skull. I take your hand in mine and press your fingers against my lips, their oils and the faint floral memory of hand soap filling my nostrils.

Slowly, I work up each finger with small kisses, resting in each one to transfer the affection from me to you. Then, passing over once more, delivering the smallest possible nibbles from my front teeth to your fingertips. I won't deny I have an oral fixation, but the feeling of any part of you inside of me, even in the tiniest of ways, is absolutely electrifying.

No doubt you can feel my heart picking up speed against your head, and of course the cool contact of my hand against the side of your face, the curve of your cheek rounding into your jawline, filling its palm, the terrain changing just so slightly as you grin. I run my thumb along your eyebrow, feeling the soft tension of its strands bristle under its movement. Dragging along your side, I take your ear between my fingers, tracing its complex ridges and letting the curve of my thumb work under the thickest of them, tracing its line down as I cup the rest of your fold under the slow stroke of my other four.

You're warm, and the heat of this intricate organ centers itself in the cupped open hold of my hand. I grasp it, not closing my fist, just letting it be filled, and press it along the smooth curve of your neck. Pressing my thumb against your jaw, I tilt your face up to mine.

I take your lips in, the lone, inhaling kiss. My fingers work behind you, into your hair, the meshing backside of your head, pressing into your scalp, as I let your lips naturally meet my teeth, and slowly graze against them until we part again. We both let our breaths catch, and meet one another again, lips wedded and gliding against one another until locked, like our legs below.

We rest in this kiss, letting the slow slip of our lips get only so far before working back to locked position. I can feel our tongues curling against one another in curious exploration. While they may be familiar territory at this point, there's something so brand new in each kiss.

The bittersweet taste inside your mouth rushes up to my taste buds as I work into you, parting and biting my lip again. God, I am so into you. Lie on your belly, and I tell you, opening my eyes, drinking you in now.

You open your own, and we take this moment just to admire one another. Inevitably, we start grinning again, and I can't help but laugh. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn over, and I pull our sheets down, mounting you, letting my leg hang over the side of the bed to meet the floor, giving me the needed leverage to work into you. First, I part your hair and press my thumbs against the cradle between your head and neck, just pressing deep, letting my body's weight center in you here. Leveling myself with my other fingers, I make my way down the central muscles of your back with my thumbs and their pads.

Pressing out and up, as if trying to wipe away the tension in deep, heavy strokes. Occasionally, I find a knot that demands attention, and I rest the flat of my palm against it, letting the strange bones within it naturally work into your muscle as I rotate into you. Eventually feeling the loosening movement under the surface, rounding it again with less pressure, and letting the circles wane as I return to the path downward.

As I reach your own apex, just inches ahead of my parted legs, I curl my fingers like paws and press into the wide muscles above your butt, moving my fingers in slight constants, making wider circles with my arms, occasionally letting my knuckles turn in towards you with their rounded edges, pushing down and out and moving back up. I trace the tension points below your shoulder blades, making slow zig-zags down to your ribs, as I move my fingers in and out, as I move my fingers in and out, as I move my fingers in and out, as I move my fingers in and out, .