Wednesday, June 17, 2009

They say in spring, a young man's fancy turns to love. So what happens the following season?

Will he act on that fancy? Oh, please do, you may be thinking. Summer is the real time of the mating dance. Spring may bring the renewal of life and all things verdant, but summer is the time for preening. All the ladies in their shape-hugging sheath dresses, the skimpy tops, the shortest shorts, the string bikinis and the gauzy wraps. All the guys in their unbuttoned shirts, faded cut-offs, tank tops, and hip-hugging swim suits.

Or let's think about a fancy occasion like a wedding, where she can wear her sleeveless, strapless, scantiest cocktail dress, and he can deck himself out in a cool suit with the tie that will come loose before the evening is over, and the jacket that will be draped over the nearest chair, the better to show off that slim, belted waist.

And at the end of all this posturing? One can hope that the mating dance is completed: he, taking the time to slip that dress from her shoulders, nuzzling the soft, smooth skin of her neck and growing intoxicated with her scent; she, unbuttoning that shirt and sliding it free of his pants, unbuckling the belt and loosening the top button before slowly, longingly undoing that zipper. And both of them sweetly touching, stroking, exploring until they can't wait any longer and their lips meet in a tease, a caress, to be followed by the sort of deep kiss that takes their breath and pulls them into that final embrace.

Sigh. I love summer, with the heat and the rhythms that go from easy and casual to pulsing and driven. Seduction in the shape of the mouth around a strawberry. Passion in the lips that open to accept a taste of a frozen cherry confection, the tongue slipping easily down the length of it to catch every melting drip.

Hmmm. I think I'll go see if hubby is up for a summer snack.

For more heat, check out my latest story, Bedroom Tiger! Buy it now at:


Anonymous said...

DAMN! Now that is was I'm talking about.

WHere is that man of mine?

Anabel Blue said...

Okay, the frozen-cherry-confection, tongue-slipping-easily-down... whew. Stop! Er, Don't. Stop. Don't Stop!


Anonymous said...

WHEW! THIS is what an erotic blog is for! Awesome post, Angela :)