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  • Writer's pictureDarla Blake

In Praise Of…Cosy Evenings, Togetherness, and True Intimacy

Well, it’s that time of year again. The leaves have almost completely dropped, the sound of holiday cheer can be heard in bustling stores and pop up wonderlands, there is an abiding chill in the air, and the nights are drawing in earlier and earlier. Many people, myself included, miss the consistent and reassuring heat of the summer sun and those long, bright days that already feel like a distant memory. I approach winter much like I’m preparing for battle; the SAD lamp that I’m never convinced really does very much resumes its place atop my piano to try its best to wake me up on those dark winter mornings, my vitamin D regimen begins once again in earnest (and that’s not a euphemism, you naughty fiends) and my commitment to cooking good old fashioned comfort food for myself each night ramps up unrelentingly. This year though, something else has crept in along with the cold; an increasing desire for the kind of warmth that can only be found with another.

You’ve read my blogs; I’m usually here indulging myself in my latest perversion, generally something rough, something frantic. Hey - know thyself, right?! But this year I find myself yearning for closeness, for intimacy.

“The wood is not the fuel. The cold is the fuel. For the cold creates the passion for the fire.”

- Craig D. Lounsbrough

There is something about the sting of winter against ones skin that makes being in a warm, cosy bed with a lover so inviting, so longed for. Intimacy is transformed into something slow, something tender. I want to spend my winter nights under the duvet; sharing stories, watching movies together, cuddling, kissing. Has romance, something I’ve previously shunned in favour of…well…hard anal, finally got a hold of me?!    

I know you’ve been working all day, and I’ve been at my place waiting for you - waiting to kiss your cold face with my warm lips. Before you arrive, I make the bed that you will join me in, I dim the lights and light the candles. I turn on some music, perhaps a little Stan Getz to gently serenade us whilst we sip a glass of wine together on the sofa, your hand occasionally brushing my stockinged thigh underneath my robe. I know that you want the same thing that I do; to really be with someone - to leave the chilly world outside and to think of nothing that exists outside of this moment.

We kiss, this time more passionately. We take our time, our fingers intertwining as our soft mouths explore each other. I stand in front of you and slowly release the ties of my robe so that it drops to the floor and you can finally see the lingerie that has been subtly peeking out at you - a rich transparent plum set that shows my pale skin beneath, leaving very little - but just enough - to the imagination. I can’t wait any longer, and neither can you. I delicately lower myself so that I straddle your lap and we kiss once again as I undo the buttons on your shirt. I can feel that you are hard, but we are not in a rush. I take your hand and draw you to my bed, and I can feel your eyes all over my body. Once I have laid you down, I remove the rest of your clothing, my hands carefully stroking every corner of you, taking mental notes of which areas seem most sensitive. I want to be naked with you, and so I let you help me remove my lingerie; even my stockings are peeled off and it is your body against mine. I turn you over and rub some oil into my hands; I want to make you feel good. You exhale, relaxed and stimulated in equal measure, as I massage your shoulders, your neck, your back. I let my breasts fall against your skin, each delightful sensation blending in with the next. My hands slip down to your buttocks and lightly graze that gorgeous area inside the top of your thighs, close to everything you want me to touch. You are content to simply lie there and enjoy my caresses; the longer I spend close to, but not on, your cock, the more erotic sensations course through your veins and the more desperate you become.

I turn you back over and lean in to kiss you, frequently; I want this just as much as you do. The weight and warmth of my body on top of yours feels comforting, close. My soft fingers slowly migrate to your balls and at once you feel a rush up your spine and a throb of hardness. You want to feel me envelope you, but it is still not time. I begin to lightly finger the length of your shaft. I can feel your reactions to my touch becoming evermore athirst and my arousal feeds off of yours. Fingers turn into whole hands stroking you, over and over, and waves of pleasure flow throughout your entire body. I lean in to kiss you and you whisper that you are close, that you want me. Finally, I lower myself onto you and everything is warm as you explode into me.

We stay there, together, quivering and breathless, our bodies wrapped around each other. Nothing else exists - winter can stay.


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1 Comment

Dec 09, 2023

So beautifully written Darla. You are an artist in many forms.... I can envisage the scenario acutely....I think of you often....

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