The fog creeps over the hill outside the living room window like a dragon’s warm breath against the cold, weaving through the aging oak forest down into this valley below. It is the weather of Ireland, with crisp ocean air and damp mist, which blankets the landscape like millions of soft crystal beads thrown across a bare floor. One can almost picture a large knight with his silver maize and chest plate riding out from the forest to save his redheaded betrothed from eminent danger. The sound of the loud idling truck outside becomes the galloping sounds of the horse as hoves slam into the damp ground below.
It is the weather of magic and long lost stories, of danger and mystery, of heroes and villains. The rider’s face is white like the encroaching fog, as I have never met the man who will ride thundering into my life, crashing into my heart like the pounding waves of the ocean against a large rock. Prognosticators' have predicted his appearance for years, but as I look out into the world outside this window, all I see is the white fog languidly moving it’s way over the tall green grasses, disappearing into the ground from which it first appeared.
I imagine his hands are strong, slightly rough, yet gently firm as they move across my body pulling me close to his chin. There is an electricity that runs in the air between us, crackling like the embers of a well stoked fire. His voice is deep, and rough like his hands, but there is no bitterness to his words. His presence is calming and electrifying at the same time, like a fire can both warm and burn the body. He enjoys brushing his lips across the top of my forehead and moving his fingers down the side of my face, as if etching me to memory with his touch.
He stands just above me in height, his graying dark hair and deep eyes that twinkle of mischievous days of old. To look into his darkened marbled eyes bring a smile to my face and I feel safe, yet sexy. An aging warrior who has conquered his kingdoms, slightly tired and restless, who seeks out my pale, freckled arms to rest between them and to laugh at my funny stories. He finds love and tranquility as he places his head against my soft breasts and forgets the stresses of the outside world. He has found his maiden queen.
His kisses are firm, almost dry. His is tongue strong and gentle, as his lips encompass my mouth, taking in my own breath and tongue, melting me to him. He loves to kiss me, as if taking in my breath returns his aging body to the days when he was young as new life enters his soul. His feelings for me run deep. He believes his soul resonates with my own. He feels powerful and alive, content and at peace,he could stay within my arms forever.
Our naked slumber is deep and satisfying, the sound of his heavy breathing is reassuring. Time lulls to a standstill and the bed curves to the weight of his large frame, rolling me firm against him. He awakens, and ....
OIY... my red headed mind is all about sex these days.
Until next time-
C
