There was a time when you would seal your whispered confessions, the passionate words of your lust, your farewells and goodbyes with a kiss, with a cross, with a sweet little x.
But once it disappeared from sight, once that sweet little x ceased to be, I knew things had changed; I knew we would never be the same. I knew the hint of affection you cradled tentatively in your palm had been lost, had faded forever away.
Lashes flutter with its first slithering caress, shrouding my gaze, plunging this fair lithe body into the merciless ache, compelling me to traverse the cruel space between us, to reach willingly, to yield wantonly to the strong hands now passionately cupping my breasts, the fingers delicately edging away the midnight lace, the tips tracing the sliver of light snaking its way to the smoothness of my flowering sex, the lips brushing, kissing, suckling the crown of each proud peak, the naked cock impatient for a taste of my heat, the naked cock thrusting, stroking, surging inside me, the naked cock gripped by the force of my climax, the naked cock at one with the shuddering flood of my most intimate flesh.
The night falls.
And with it her heart, her body, her soul, each descending into the depths, into a darkness few seek and fewer still comprehend, into the yearning to be filled, fucked, to be taken, possessed as his equal, overcome by his passionate dominance, into the desire to be bound with the silk that even now hangs about his neck, into the need for the touch absolute, the caress that engraves his name on her skin, into the voice that ignites, soothes, assures her she has found her home in him.
She enters this world on a wave, on the swell of drapery luxuriant, riding the surf of embroidery curls, her body now realised in sensual repose, adorned in the gleam of the pearl, greeting this day usual yet unique, the essence, quintessence, not of perfection but of woman, of water, of earth, of fiery passion, of the softness of breath, of the glow of silken flesh, of the whispered kiss, of the sultry caress, of the loving force, of the feminine seeking the harmony, of the feminine craving the masculine.
The days, the weeks have faded away and yet the visions that rush past my eyes, the sensations that assault then course through my body take me back as if it was only yesterday.
So overwhelmed, so seized by this torrent, I can barely form an utterance with either lips or pen. And even in this rare moment when the words have chosen to grace me with their presence, I am at a loss; I am dumbstruck, unable to fix upon a point, a look, a stroke, a caress, a thrust, a soft swell, a detail, a beginning.
Where do I begin? Where do I begin?
Do I begin with that night, with the morning after, with the season and the oppressive heat that boiled mercury, blistered bitumen, melted bricks and mortar, with the heat that radiated through the day and long after the sunset, the heat that prickled my newly bathed and perfumed skin, my once fair flesh golden and gleaming as I impatiently waited for you to weave your way through the peak-hour traffic?
With your knock on my door, with the moment you crossed the threshold, with your grin, my smile, our momentary shyness, with our first kiss, deep, devouring, urgent, with the way our hungry lips and tongues immediately erased the miles that had kept us apart for an aeon, with the change in erotic tempo as I stopped to recover my sight, my reach, my breath, this gaze meeting yours, wandering tenderly over your face, these fingers sensually sliding up the curve of your neck, finding their home in your nape, my lips softly brushing the peaks of your mouth, this silken tongue tracing its shape, your hands possessing my hips, urging me into the pulsation of your thickening and hardening flesh?
With your fingers teasing the zip of my dress, the metal teeth groaning in synch with the dirty sax oozing out of the speakers, the straps somehow gliding off my shoulders of their own will and accord, with the aching slowness you edged the bodice over the pert breasts sheathed in diaphanous lace, your tips burning a trail on the ebony silk, on my shivering body, your hands drawing the fabric down, down, down over the taunt line of my belly, easing it over my rocking hips, over the filigree bound tight around me, past the lean, silky legs raised up stiletto high?
With my own hands teasing and tugging at your constricting clothing, with my naked breasts pressed into the smoothness of your chest, my lips gently suckling your nipple, your knees buckling violently in response, the lightest of kisses, the daintiest of licks finding the glistening pearl nestling in your cockhead, my body bowed in worship, in benediction, my wet mouth enveloping your glans as your hands travel the length of my spine, as your questing fingers prise apart the luscious curves at the end of my feminine line?
With the moment I break away, leaving you lonely and yearning again, walking the path to the bedroom glowing in the lamp light beyond, with the way I meet your gaze over my shoulder, with my lingering form in the doorway as I register your desiring expression, the catch of your breath, the groan from low in your throat, with my position in front of the mirrored wall as I stand waiting for you once more?
With the reflection of our naked bodies, the contrast of your scarlet shaft pressed into my creamy thigh, your arm about my waist, the gentle strength of your hand as you slip in one digit then two then more, as you finger me, as you finger my hot velvet cunt, as my own knees weaken, the wetness dripping, flowing, my sweetness cupped in your palm, the sweat on your brow, the lone bead gliding between my breasts, my head on your shoulder, my body given over, abandoned to your touch, my body intoxicated with pleasure, the first orgasm screaming up through my bones, my gasp, my moan, these lips begging, pleading to be taken, to be fucked, to have you, to have you fuck me, to have you inside me?
With the hour, the minute, the second you finally, finally lay me down, spread me wide, cleave open the pouting lips of my cunt, your glans gleaming with the honey you will indulgently lap later that night, your shaft nudging then plunging to the hilt, to the hilt, to the clutching hilt, no warning, no ceremony only desire, desire, a desire quickly morphed into need, the need to fill me, to feel me, embracing and milking, devouring, devouring you, from the inside, from the inside, my back arching off the now sodden and rumpled cotton sheeting, these arms grasping for earth, your pounding thrusts delivering your force, your weight, your possession, your cock emerging slick and triumphant, your cock buried in so deep neither one of us can think or speak, your cock, your thrusts, my screams ringing into the summer night’s silence, your cock, your thrusts, my screams, your dominance, your passion, your command speaking with precision to my trembling submission?
Where do I begin? Is this where I begin? Do I begin with you? Or do I begin at another beginning?
Do I begin with him?
Do I begin with the other you, with the one, with the man who has haunted this woman, this desire, these pages for what feels like an age? Do I begin with the revelations that should be locked and hidden away?
Do I begin with the fact he invaded me long before you arrived, with the ache in my heart, with the longing in my flesh, with the pain inflicted by his silence and disappearance, the pain I selfishly needed you to comfort and erase?
Do I begin with his spectre, looming, lurking in the corner, the voyeur deliberately conjured to bare witness, to taste the sour bile rising up in his throat, to feel the raw desire and bitter jealousy twisting his guts in a knot as you experience and savour and take me in every way he has always wanted and more, as you slide into me with a groan, as you possess me like a beast, as the walls absorb the sound of your flesh slapping hard from behind, as your sweat pools in my back, your hands a vice on this flesh, fucking me with a passionate brutality that will surely drive him from my soul, from this room at long last?
Do I begin with my hands clasped over my mouth in fear of releasing his name, my lids shut tight, shrouding everything but the visions within me, wanting you, wanting him, wanting him to be you, each deep thrust a hope, each angry plunge an exorcism, a purging of guilt, of jealousy, of obsessive desire running oily-hot through these veins, each blinding high, each resting low, each shuddering orgasm somehow bringing me closer to you both?
Do I begin with your tenderness, the complexity of your caress, with our lovemaking deep in the dark dead of night, with the way my body opened itself to you as I thought of him, as I needed and imagined him beneath my slight form, with the way I straddled your thighs, my delicate fingers wound around his uncut cock, my cunt hovering, my hips descending, this intimate flesh engulfing your heat, taking you to the place where you rightly belong, our bodies distilled to shadows, to sensate silhouettes, my heart reduced to a beating, adoring ache, our sensual rhythm, our mutual pleasure, our sensual rhythm transporting me across the ether, across the air and the lands and the seas vast between us, our sensual rhythm finally delivering me to you and you to me?
Do I begin with this deluge, with this confusion, with this seemingly incoherent muddle of words, with the salty tears, with the sobs now breaking as I sit here and type, as I sit here confessing it all?
Where do I begin? Where do I begin?
Where do I begin when so much of this feels like the end?
You
Unearth me
Bare me
Heartlessly reduce me
To gold dust
Shimmering lonely
In the darkness of the night
Although soft and indulgent against my skin, there’s little comfort in this gossamer caress for it merely fuels the yearning deep within, the yearning for your touch sensual and tender, for the kiss that speaks to me of boundless passions, for your body pressed in tight, for the flesh pressed in so close we no longer care where each of us begins and ends, for the lover aching to enfold me, for the man craving this embrace, for the one waiting, for the one needing this perfecting union.
Even as I am etched in black and white, even as I am drawn in the tones of their in-between, my passion for you transcends this monochrome frame, it is every colour, tint and shade either of us can conceive, it is every gradation of light and shadow, it is the inky darkness of a carnality which tears at my flesh and shreds my soul, it is the ashen green of jealousy, this barely contained envy of the women fortunate enough to drown in the hot rains of your lustful fury, it is the bronze of your skin kissed by the sun, the burnish of your glans hard and dripping in mouth, on tongue, it is your chocolate gaze, it is my azure look as you drive yourself to my clutching limit, it is the pinkness of my cunt, hungry, rapacious, the cream of my thighs bound tight about your waist, the scarlet of the heart bleeding its loving ache, it is the kaleidoscope, the splinters, the shards blinding, arresting as these fingers seek skin, as they spread open the lips, as I fuck myself, as I give in, as I surrender to the wanting, to the imagining, to you here in this room, reaching, reaching for me through time and space and improbability, through the impossible, through the unthinkable pleasure of this body, this offering, the pleasure that takes me to breath’s end, that takes me to the brink and back again, that brings you to me, that delivers me to you, that devours everything, all hue.
It is in the curve you belong, your body and mine as one, your hands hovering over the arching line, drawing in the heat, the shine of the light, hovering, taunting my desire, inflaming this need, hovering, relishing the urgency prickling my skin, hovering, hovering, the space between us cruelly intact, hovering, hovering, before making landfall at last, before touching, before meeting, before easing, prising open the flesh dripping its want, your dark gaze, your ravenous mouth drinking me in, drinking me down, your thick cock plunging into the embrace of my most intimate ache, plunging into this clutching cunt, your imposing form surrendering its burden, its weight, the weight bearing upon, baring your soul, your hips a piston, furiously slamming, fucking, taking possession of the woman whose cries of pleasure threaten to bring down these walls, whose cries of pleasure, whose velvet fire, whose unerring passion threatens to shatter, to break you both.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you really want from me.
Don’t run. Don’t hide. Tell me.
Whisper into me everything you want to say, everything you need to say, everything you think you shouldn’t say.
Groan into me the thoughts that swell your cock; the desires that haunt you in the night, the cravings soft and brutal that scream to your hungering soul, the cravings you long to exact on my sweet and supple form.
Growl into me the passions smouldering, seething in your core, the bitter jealousy that taunts you from near and from afar, your darkness, your intensity, your overwhelmingly lascivious greed, the need driving us to desire’s primal edge.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me; whisper, growl and groan for me.
Tell me, lover. Tell me, tell me, tell me…
