Moments and Context: Part Writing Exercise. Part Smut.

A moment without context:

She felt the palm of his hand flatten against the back of her neck as his fingers, entwined in her still-damp hair, grabbed hold and pulled her back. Within seconds, she was on her hands and knees with her face pressed into the cushion – his strong grip holding her down with one hand while the other quietly unfastened his belt.

The same moment with physical context:

She reached forward to touch his face, but once their eyes locked, the heel of her palm met with his chest instead. Cautiously but with intent, she pressed forward until he fell back into the sofa behind him. Her body, as though magnetically connected to his, followed him down in practiced choreography, positioning herself in a kneeling straddle over his lap.

In this position her lips, angled above his, hungered to taste him. She gave in to the hunger, gently at first – leaning down for a kiss. Her hunger grew ravenous, and her kisses deeper and more demanding. His hands caressed their way past her thighs, around her hips, and began their slow, practiced rise up up her back.

She felt the palm of his hand flatten against the back of her neck as his fingers, entwined in her still-damp hair, grabbed hold and pulled her back. Within seconds, she was on her hands and knees with her face pressed into the cushion – his strong grip holding her down with one hand while the other quietly unfastened his belt.

The same moment with emotional context:

He owned her. There they stood, having just parted from a quiet embrace when she looked at this man and a kaleidoscope of passionate memories circulated in her mind’s eye. The memories filled her with raw lust and desire and she felt an instinct to connect with him take control.

She reached forward to touch his face, but once their eyes locked, the palm of her hand met with his chest instead. Cautiously but with intent, she pressed forward until he allowed himself to fall back into the sofa behind him. Not until he’d acquiesced to her advance did she allow the instinct to take full control of her actions. Her body, as though magnetically connected to his, followed him down in practiced choreography, positioning herself in a kneeling straddle on top of him.

In this position her lips, angled above his, hungered to taste him. She gave in to the hunger, gently at first – leaning down for a kiss. Her hunger grew ravenous, and her kisses deeper and more demanding. She, so far gone into her primal state of lust and want, didn’t notice his hands caressing their way past her thighs, around her hips, and begin their slow, practiced rise up up her back.

She became aware again of their juxtaposed roles just as the palm of his hand flattened against the back of her neck and his fingers, entwined in her still-damp hair, grabbed hold and pulled her back. Within seconds, she was on her hands and knees with her face pressed into the cushion – his strong grip holding her down with one hand while the other quietly unfastened his belt.