Dimension's Desire: A Sweet Surprise

The rain hammered against the windows of the penthouse apartment, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my pulse. He’d just walked in, as if he’d materialized from the storm itself, a sudden, breathtaking shift in the atmosphere. The scent of sandalwood and something undeniably masculine clung to him, a primal invitation that bypassed my conscious mind and went straight for the core of my being. He was tall, sculpted, with the kind of casual confidence that suggested he owned every room he entered, every glance, every breath. His eyes, the color of melted chocolate, locked onto mine, and a current, electric and undeniable, shot through me.

“You walked in,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my very bones. “Caught my attention.” There was no pretense, no hesitation, just a raw, honest assessment of the situation. It wasn’t a compliment; it was a declaration. A declaration that shattered the carefully constructed walls of my composure.

I’d never seen a man with so much dimension. Not just physically, though he possessed a raw, untamed beauty that was almost painful to behold. It was in the set of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his hands moved with a natural grace that spoke of both strength and sensitivity. It was in the way he tilted his head, a subtle gesture that conveyed both curiosity and amusement. It was in the way he made me feel inside—a dizzying, chaotic blend of anticipation, vulnerability, and a desperate yearning I hadn't known I possessed.

“I’ve never seen,” I managed, my voice a breathless whisper, “A man with so much dimension.”

He chuckled, a low, resonant sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You’re perceptive.” He moved closer, his proximity igniting a firestorm within me. His presence was an intoxicating mix of danger and delight. The air thickened with unspoken desires, heavy with the promise of something forbidden.

“It’s the way you walk,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, “The way you talk, the way you make me feel inside.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through my entire body. My breath hitched in my throat. My heart pounded a frantic tattoo against my ribs. I wanted him, desperately, overwhelmingly, to consume me completely.

“It’s in your smile,” he continued, tracing the curve of my lips with his thumb, “It’s in your eyes. I don’t wanna wait for tonight.” The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The unspoken invitation was irresistible. The world around me seemed to fade, the rain, the city lights, everything, reduced to a dull background hum as my senses sharpened, focused entirely on him.

“Ladies how often has this happened to you?” he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. “Your man just walks in and suddenly you don’t know what the heck has come over you. It’s just the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he makes you feel inside—BUT! There isn’t enough time. He’s got to go to work, or you do, kids have to be somewhere and one of you has to drive them—whatever it may be, you two just don’t have enough time. So what else is there for you to do? Well you’re Daydreamin’.”

And so, I was. Lost in a swirling vortex of desire, my mind a playground for fantasies that bordered on the wild. My chin in the palm of my hand, lost in the intoxicating scent of him, lost in the raw power of his gaze. The rain continued to fall, but it no longer mattered. My entire world had shrunk to the space between us, a small, perfect bubble of intense sensation.

“So I’m daydreaming,” I breathed, clinging to his arm, my fingers digging into his skin. “With my chin in the palm of my hands, about you, you and only you.” He tightened his grip, pulling me closer, and I leaned into him, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure.

“Gentlemen (Now we fit into this!) How many times do we get that text or phone call like: Now I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I know I was made for you. I’m in love with all of your charm. It’s the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you make me feel inside. It’s in your smile. It’s in your eyes. I don’t wanna wait for tonight. As men we should never squander this gift. In case I need to spell it out for you, that gift is a God given woman who is daydreaming like a school girl—her chin in the palm of her hand—And she’s daydreaming about you! You! And ONLY YOU!”

The heat intensified, building to a fever pitch. His hands moved over my body, exploring every curve, every contour, with a masterful touch that left me gasping for breath. I arched into him, desperate to feel his touch, to taste his scent, to lose myself completely in the intoxicating pleasure he offered.

“We are blessed,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, “By now let me just say that for the ladies, this is a song you pull out when you need to rub one out. For the men, this is the jam you put on when your fingers and tongue are doing the talking. Let her daydream even if it’s only for a few moments until that dream becomes a reality.”

The rain intensified, drumming against the windows like a frantic heartbeat. The world outside faded away as we moved closer, our bodies intertwined, lost in a symphony of touch and sensation. His lips tasted of dark chocolate and something wild, something primal. The kiss deepened, a slow, deliberate exploration of each other’s pleasure. My hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, until there was no space between us, only the shared heat of our bodies, the shared rhythm of our breaths.

“There is no escaping the fiery passion we carry for our spouses,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the storm. “Sometimes when time is scarce, we just have to handle ourselves. And sometimes it’s just fun to kick back, let our imaginations roam, our memories resurface, until we have the time.”

He began to strip me, slowly, deliberately, each movement a deliberate act of seduction. The silk robe fell to the floor, revealing the smooth, sculpted lines of his body. My own dress followed, discarded without hesitation. The rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt like a threat. It felt like a baptism, a cleansing, a preparation for the intense pleasure that awaited.

“And as always I have some creative ways this jam can be used in your rotation,” he said, his voice low and suggestive, as he brought his hand to my breast. “Ladies: Since this song is clearly written from your perspective obviously use this as your masturbation song. Yes, that’s right. Whether you’re using your fingers, a toy, or the washer as Strawberry did in I Am Glad I Am Married—Nude All Day; crank this up in your headphones and let your imagination run with the mood of the music. But that doesn’t mean you have to be solo all the time. Nope bring hubby in on it. My suggestion—Snapchat. We live in a glorious technological age where this app will take a video while you’re playing music and add it to the video! Take a video or few and send them to hubby through Snapchat—warn him first by either a phone call or a text, or a few snaps before that let him know something special is coming up. Tell him not to open it until he is alone and preferably with headphones, or after shooting the videos just save them and back out of them and send them in a text later. It used to be the “sexting app” I’m pretty sure people still consider it so, but not so much anymore—Vines have kind of taken over that ideal. Just be careful not to accidently add it to your story…”

The next few minutes were a blur of sensation, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to consume me entirely. I moaned, cried, pleaded, lost in the exquisite agony and ecstasy of the moment. He answered every whim, every desire, with a passion that bordered on the obsessive. He explored every inch of my body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He brought me to the edge of oblivion, then pulled me back just as I thought I couldn’t take any more.

As the storm began to subside, a sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating our intertwined bodies. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with an intensity that made my heart ache. “You want me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “Got to have you. And I need you. Like I never have. Loved before. Oh I want you. Oh I need you. Got to have you. Like I never have. Loved before.”

The realization hit me then, a wave of pure, unadulterated desire. This wasn’t just a moment of pleasure; it was a fundamental shift in my being. He had awakened something within me, a primal instinct that had been dormant for far too long. It was a feeling of utter surrender, of complete and utter devotion.

“There is no escaping the fiery passion we carry for our spouses,” he repeated, pulling me closer until our lips met again, sealing the moment with a kiss that promised nothing less than eternal devotion. “Sometimes when time is scarce, we just have to handle ourselves. And sometimes it’s just fun to kick back, let our imaginations roam, our memories resurface, until we have the time.”

“And as always I have some creative ways this jam can be used in your rotation,” he said, his voice still husky with pleasure, as he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Gentlemen: This should be one of your warm-up songs. Simple Pickuphas a nice way to organize your playlist (warning crude humor and language will ensue clicking onto the link) and also the inspiration for my grind here on Marriage Heat. Let your fingers, your tongue, both, a toy, whatever else you have planned for her. Let that piano rift and Ariana’s Mariah Carey sound-alike voice set the tone for the rest of the night.”

He began to caress my body again, his touch both gentle and insistent. The rain had stopped, and the city lights twinkled outside the windows, casting a soft glow on our bodies. It was a scene of exquisite beauty, of raw desire, of complete and utter fulfillment. And in that moment, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and his own musky aroma, I knew that I had found something truly extraordinary. Something that would change my life forever.

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