You have to watch a lover to seduce them, to truly reach their core and gain that most intimate of surrenders, to hold their shivering form in your arms, replete by the power you have had over them. It starts on the day you see them, see them for the first time as prey for this sensual hunt, this game of shared pleasured and playful intimacy. Our game started the day I met you, the day your scent first surrounded me, your fleeting touch made goosebumps ripple along my skin. It is a game I have learnt to play well over the years.
A lover’s game lies in the shivers and moans, the small retreats and the softening of muscles, the change of taste and texture on your lover’s skin. I watch the tremble over your skin as my fingers stroke, as if in accident, down your sensitive neck when I help you out of your coat. It is my first indication if you will be receptive, if you will allow me to play tonight – or if the many distractions of the day have closed your mind to sensuality, have made you hide away from the world like a frightened child. Do your turn your head to me with this inscrutable smile, invitation and challenge alike, or do I have to woo you, gently, carefully?
I love the way your lips part in that first, almost instinctive moan, your breath a tangible caress over my lips before I steal it with my own, devour it jealous even of the air. Your taste, so uniquely you, slowly mixes with mine as our tongue duel and that carefully restraint possessiveness in me, so uncivilised and still so undeniable eases. I love you spread on the satin bed sheets, their cold silky-smooth sensation an erotic contrast to the warm velvet of your skin. Under my hand I feel the tenseness of the smallest muscles as they glide over your body, seeking its warmth and softness. With every touch, every taste I can feel their relaxation, their reaction to my caress, your slow submission to pleasure. I want to take all, be the only reality in your mind – and then I want you to surrender even that to the pleasure I give you. So I watch for every little sign in this dance of joy and intimacy.
There is a point, somewhere between anticipation and acceptance, when those small muscles along your side, along your legs, quiver between hard tenseness and soft desire, that last instinctive precipice which keeps you away from giving in to the sensations. I love that moment, the moment when your body is not sure anymore what it wants. My teeth find your neck in a gentle bite, a soft sting. I feel the shiver travelling along your long, elegant limbs – feel the wave of softness take with it the last vestige of tenseness in the confusion of pleasure and pain your mind has reached. I lick over that skin, not to soothe but to remind your of my claim. Now, you are almost mine.
But you are a lover who gives pleasure freely to another, but is reluctant to accept it in yourself. Your mind too busy, your soul too withdrawn to easily submit to that utter vulnerability. No matter how much I feel you are mine, how the way you taste, the way your scent has changed to something more heady, heavier and potent, one sound, one movement can pull you out of the web of pleasure I weave. Your head turns away, (to the window where the sound of a car reminds you of the world outside?) and I have to recapture lost ground.
My lips play along your ribcage in bites and licks, a teasing torture to tantalise and taunt. Your hands bury in my hair, their very lack of coordination a testament to your rising passion. They are not sure if they want to hold me closer, push me away or hurry me along – so I ignore them. I let you feel my smile on your skin. Your thighs have opened for me, inviting and begging in their eager acceptance of my touch. As I massage along their strong lines, your hips buck and just for a moment I hold you still, impress on you that today I am the one to play. I love that whine, the impatience ripped from your mouth in almost angry demand. It is intoxicating. That relaxed softness of your muscles? It is gone, taken by a fiery passion. Now a train could drive through the room and you would not pay it any heed – now your attention is all for me.
When I finally enter you, I catch your scream on my tongue, its taste a drug I never want to lose. Your hands play restlessly over my back, their nails finding purchase with each wave of pleasure as I move. Your body tells me when to draw it out, when to play and tease – and when to take. It teaches me your surrender. To seduce a lover you have to watch them, watch very single movement and sensation playing over them – you have to watch them as only a blind man can.