A Moment on your Hips, Haunted by your Eyes, your Lips…
I suppose almost everyone has a favorite part that they’re attracted to. A piece of anatomy that catches their gaze and holds it, lingering, savoring, studying. As a cis identifying hetero male I must confess that there are a number of parts to which my gaze is drawn. They’re not always what one would expect, and often, they depend entirely on the woman that has caught my eye and the situation we find ourselves in.
Lemon’s post reminded me of how much I enjoy the gaze of a woman while she’s performing oral on me and how very much I enjoy her warmth, her presence, her closeness afterwards. That line, “I’ve got you” hits me right in the pants and the heart and it’s something I think a lot of people desperately need to hear.
Marcela’s post was all about eye contact. The way she can draw a man in with her gaze, her lips, and eventually all of the other skills she possesses. I have to admit, her eyes, and lips are positively irresistible.
Both posts reminded me of an afternoon I spent at a Renaissance festival several years ago. We go to RenFest every year. Most years the acts are largely the same and the shops/food are fairly consistent. We go for the people watching, the atmosphere, and the feeling of belonging that comes from being amongst a group of people that are “weird”, like we are.
Every day at the end of the festival the drummers from every act gather in a square near the entrance and form a drum circle. They play, a deep, resonating beat that echoes amongst the buildings, loud enough that it feels as though the ground is vibrating under your feet. It’s intoxicating. I’m not a dancer, not even under these circumstances, but I can certainly feel the raw, chaotic energy twisting and burning all around me. If ever I did want to dance, this would be the place. It’s primal. It makes me feel incredibly alive.
I’m not sure how it works out, but almost every year it ends up being most convenient for us to visit on “Belly dancer weekend” and this year was no exception. As a result, shaking, jingling, and dancing amongst the drummers were a number of belly-dancers. One in particular had a physique that I quite liked. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her dance, she has been a regular there for years, but it was the first time I’d seen her dance at the circle.
I found my gaze drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t blink. She took a few turns about the edge of the audience before she noticed me, gawking there. She swayed over. I found myself drawn in. Her large, dark, almond shaped eyes held the perfect mixture of sex and mirth. Her lips were set in a seductive expression that rested somewhere between a sexy pout and a friendly smile. To this day I don’t know how she drew my gaze downward. But there I was, slack-jawed, completely under her spell. She gave me a self-guided tour of her body. Her neck, her collar bones, the delicate arch beneath her arms which inevitably guided me to her breasts. Then down, to her navel, taut, stretched, as her hips rolled. Her succulent waist, that hint of the v- that would have led me down further had she not popped her hip just so, and sent possession of my consciousness snapping back to me.
She looked at me and smiled broadly as I recovered. I smiled back. We both new exactly what had just transpired. She could have walked over, taken my hand, and led me away to have whatever she might have wanted and I would have been powerless to stop her.
I remember feeling as though something truly ancient had passed between us. Something undeniably primal and earth bound. Like a memory from another life, lived ages ago, had abruptly walked in, said “Hello”, and then, casually, sauntered out. It’s a memory I’ll never forget.
It’s those parts that she showed me that I often find myself drawn to. Even now, years later, I have to wonder if she simply knew what I wanted to see and showed me or whether she wanted to show me just what I should look for. Either way, it certainly made a lasting impression.
She hooked me with her eyes. Drew me in. Made me guess. “What’s in there?” “How much depth?” “Will she match my intelligence, my wit?”, “What, exactly, is it that she wants?” Along with all of the other questions that are answered in a typical personal ad. All of these things can be sought in the eyes, though sometimes, with little success.
She drew me down to her lips. I admired her smile. Fell for how genuine her expression felt. I wondered, “What might she say if we conversed?” “How would those lips feel? On mine? On my body?, On my cock?”
I admired her neck, the delicate trace of her collar bones as they swept in toward her nape. So much vulnerability there. Such smooth perfection. I ached to touch her, to feel that tender skin, sense her reaction. To wrap my hand around her throat and let her know just how desperately I needed to feel the rest of her.
When she raised her arms my eyes caught that tender line that flowed along the inside of her armpits. I wanted to trace that smooth softness. Wondered how it would look while she took her shirt off, stretched there, while she revealed herself. Would she lavish in the moment? Stretch it thin while the tension built and I watched her breasts sway gently, or tear it off, hungry for more. Of course, she was wearing little more than a leather bra at the time so I’ll never know.
Her breasts swayed and bounced in time with the rest of her body. Not overly large, firm, but pendulous just the same. Such a wonderland of textures and sweet torments lay waiting there in her breasts. Would her nipples harden at the slightest provocation? How would her skin taste as I licked and sucked on them? How would she look, if I made her come? Would her breasts heave and tremble as she gasped and moaned?
She drew me down still further, to her bouncing navel. Her smooth skin, broken in places by a stretch mark here or there. It looked perfect, sweat and dust slicked after a day dancing at the festival. How wonderful it would have been to place my hand there. To feel her quiver as she drew breath. Would she rut with me, raw, covered in dirt and dust? Surrender immediately to passion, or allow me to wash her clean before leading me off toward bliss.
She twisted, as she danced, giving me a wonderful view of her hips and the small of her back. She had delectable, curvy hips. They flared out from her waist, protruding just above that long, jingling skirt that she wore. How would it feel to rest my hands there in the small of her back? To pull her close. Would she relax into me, needful and small or would she lean back and regard my expression before giving me a hungry kiss? Mmmm…How would those hips feel as I thrust into her from behind or as she rode me? They would have made such sexy handholds.
As she twisted back around, I could catch the barest glimpse of that v-shaped line that led down to her pussy. My cock flared with heat. I imagined touching her there, teasing her, feeling the heat radiate from lower down. I might have wondered. Is she wet, swollen? Is she as needful of me as I of her?
Then, like a hypnotist snapping her fingers, she thrust her hips just so, and it was over. My education was complete and I could but revel at the newly gained knowledge.
Of course, there are other parts that I love to see. The backs of your thighs, the stunning curves of your ass, even your calves can elicit excitement in the right context. The sight, smell, taste, and texture of your pussy could fill an entirely separate post.
A woman, of course, is not just the sum of her parts. The sexiest part of you always lies hidden, often jealousy guarded. Your mind is always the most unequivocally sexy thing you have to offer. What tricks are up your sleeve? Are you a naughty minx? How badly do you want me? I want to feel your need, your enthusiasm, your desire. How much of yourself will you reveal? I want to know your genuine self. Will you trust me? As a lover? As a friend? As your Dominant? As your partner? The more intimate the trust the greater the responsibility and the longer I must consider.
The journey between eye contact and “I’ve got you” can be long or short. It will traverse our bodies, our minds, our souls but the first step always begins with your eyes.