Hugging Memories

 

I love hugs. I get a lot of them. I’m going to share some of my recent favourites. These are all from different people at different times and in different settings but I’m not using names as I want the feel of the hug to be the focus, not on who was entangled in it.

 

Naked and surrounded by hot bubbly water and his arms. My head on his shoulder, his chin resting on top of my hair. Hand stroking down my arm. Chatting about this and that. But mostly just making happy purring noises and enjoying the closeness of each other. So relaxed, so at ease.

 

I’d gotten myself into a bit of a tiz about nothing and I burst into tears. He held open his arms and I threw myself into them. And he held me tight and he let me cry all over his shoulder. He held me so tightly, stroked my hair, kissed my cheek, my neck. He squeezed me until I stopped sobbing.

 

Playing a game at Boardgames munch I was surrounded by her arms. I was sat down, she was stood. I ended with my head quite comfortably nestled upon her soft breasts. She stood there a while, casually holding me. Transmitting love without a word.

 

He needed comfort. I held him close, felt his tears on my neck and stroked his hair. I murmured comforting noises. The vulnerability of that moment struck me, the gift of his worries and cares I took on me with care and a tender pride.

 

Early morning, I woke up as he climbed into bed with me. We lay entwined, I played with his hair. We talked about this and that, touching and caressing and from soft, gentle love grew roaringly hot lust.

 

Cuddled up in the corner of a sofa, his arm over my shoulder, fingers idly traced patterns at the top of my arm, mine around his waist, holding tight. Conversation came and went, interspersed with laughter and moans and yelps of pain. As he delightfully found bruises to poke.

 

And there are so many more. I might not be able to hug all those people I want to right now but I can remember the hugs we’ve enjoyed to keep me going until we get to hug again.

 

Victoria Blisse

Victoria Blisse is known as the Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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