The hands

In my dreams I envision myself surrounded by white light. The room is white, I am clothed in a white silk dress and there are many people in the room. They are all clothed in white, their hands and faces the most noticable parts, stark in the contrast.

Hands that are pale and nearly as white as the sleeves they extend from. Hands that are dark as midnight and striking against the pure background. Hands that are tanned from the sun, some are older and some seem very young. Large and strong, small and delicate. Lovely hands, some with the softest skin and others hard and calloused. I adore them all and want to kiss the palms and fingertips.

Faces, so bright and clean and fresh, none wear makeup, just thier bare skin glowing with their natural beauty. Male and female, pale and dark, and the lips, oh those beautiful lips. Some are full and pouty, while others are thin and pale. Each capable of a soft smile, a harsh word, a spoken command, a kiss...

The hands are undressing me, taking off the white dress, as my hands carress soft cheeks. Oh here is a man with stubble how delicious as the sharp hairs rasp my fingers. And now a woman with skin so soft I want to cry at being able to touch her. The lips are smiling, they are all smiling and I am touching my fingertips to their lips. So soft.. how gentle.. naked now they stand me before them and look at me. I am not ashamed and do not try to cover myself. I hold my head high and meet each of thier gazes. Those eyes, so pretty, blues that sparkle like a winter sky on a cool crisp morning. Green's that reflect life, the colour of spring grass, fresh and green. Brown's that make me ache for the depths of their promise, as trees, and the earth glow deep within. Hazel eyes drawing me near, that rich golden hue that surely comes from the sun.

Mesmerized, they descend on me, carressing my skin. I am enfolded in their embrace. The hands stroking and rubbing and seeking all my hidden places. I hold nothing back, surrendering myself to their questing touch. I am laying back, and they are parting my legs, fingers sliding like rich silk over my limbs, my breasts. I am trembling and they feel it. Their eyes are all on me, as one they quiet me and invite me into the cool wide world they have created.

Floating and drifting, completely at peace, in and of myself. Fingers carressing my nipples and mound. Hands sliding over my rib cage, under my back. I have no time to wonder how, there is so much sensation and so much pleasure in this. Lost in my own skin, unbelieving that I can exist in such glorious light. Hands cupping and carressing my vulva, parting this sacred space and pulling me open to their universe of touch. I am willing and sigh, content as all the energies gather and build inside me.

Breathing deeply, there is a man on one side of me and a woman on the other. Blue eyes and brown. I do not know whose hands are touching me where and I do not care. With reckless abandon I look into their eyes and allow my juice to flow over the questing fingers that fill and fulfill me.

Wave after wave, it is not a storm, but an undying ocean. The tide ebbing and flowing and I am one with it.