He had painted the picture perfectly–that frenzy that takes hold when we, drunk on our skin, find ourselves with nothing but time and the other. There were sensations, and positions and scenarios. Flavors, even. Strawberries in bed. Silence and steam. It is our mistake to conceive that we have been doing anything other than making love with the whole universe all day long. But in this mistake, we find ourselves in the compelling illusion of a window of absolute possibility. Clothes decorate the floor. French lingerie. A tie. In this mistake, I can’t deny my hunger, or how perfect it feels to touch his naked body meeting mine with generous certainty…
Kneeling down in front of you,
I look up into your eyes
and kiss
along the grooves of your belly, flicking my tongue along
sensitive flesh.
I am teasing myself as much as you,
because I want to consume
the way the light plays along your abdomen, and the smell of your skin
as it slopes downward. Now
I am hungry.
I want to feel you, fat and full in my mouth. I begin
to beg for your cock, whisper madness against–
you are already speaking words from across an ocean
humming and thrumming,
your ass clenches beneath my light touch–
I understand only the cadence of your body, only what you cannot help but tell me.
Your hips begin to thrust
when you part
my soft lips, edged with heat, and slide over
my wet tongue towards the depths of my throat.
The ocean cannot help but
completely meet the land– she fills him as completely as he fills her.
Her nature presses against his shape, filling every nuance of his body.
I gag you farther into me,
my convulsions send waves of drool
rushing against you–rivers
curve downward, over the muscles of your thighs.
You swell within me in response, hold me, hold me there.
Only when I have no choice but to breathe you
do you pull from my mouth, and slap my cheek.
I am awake.
I drink in the air, feel my drool running off my chin and onto my breasts.
I love the impact of your cock against my jaw
and I stare up at you with my lips swollen and parted.
My mascara and eyeshadow are dark
and smeared, making my eyes look even larger.
You twist a hand into my bright hair, bringing me to my feet.
I don’t argue as you kiss me deeply,
and cradle my face in your palms.
I am pressed into a soft mattress.
I don’t argue as your use your tie to secure me to the bed,
my arms stretched above my head.
I know you are so hard you want to fuck
me senseless until you cum.
Instead you press your cock firmly
against my thigh, so I can feel it, want it,
and then you use your mouth all over me.
When I moan,
you slide a thigh between my legs
and let me ride you
as you
bury your face in my chest,
cupping my breasts
and drawing them into your mouth one by one.
You squeeze and suck and drink me in until my whole body seems to swell beneath you
and your thigh is slick with drool and the trail of my cunt.
When I moan again, you bring two fingers to my lips,
and I draw them into my mouth,
begging you again with my eyes, completely lost in the mistake.
You press your smooth shaft against my wet sex, and my hips buck.
I want you inside me more than anything,
but you pull away.
Instead of giving me your cock, you slide both fingers
into me,
opening me.
This is when I start to cum.
Again you hold,
hold still as I convulse around you,
waiting
for one of the infinite ways pleasure can ripple through a body
to ebb.
I am still trembling as you
rest one hand lightly on my belly, and with the other
start to fuck me,
our bodies finding some impossible rhythm,
creating language.
You seem to rotate the planet’s axis
and I’d swear it was the start of the world again.
I flood against you, coating you in salt water
and now you are on your knees
sucking and licking and drinking me in and
I must be screaming
but it must be all sounds
because I can hear only silence.
to be continued…
