He smiles at me.
I make him smile.
And he moans with me.
Because I make him moan.
It’s dizzying really. Heady. Instant laid back passion. Not laidback, but back laid kinda passion, my head all the way past the edge, head back kinda passion.
And I feel drunk. And high. Weak in the knees for what he’s about to give me in between the knees….
He fills me up, his length fitting perfectly down and deep and he holds my throat like I’m his possession, a prize, owned by him and his throne…
And then he tips his head down over my valley and dips and licks and smiles…
Because I make him smile.
But then he flips this script and turns me over and suddenly I’m underneath his weight..
“I need to put this weight on you…”
And I smile because he makes me smile and I’m moaning now, getting crushed by this love he’s giving and..
“I can’t look at your mouth…”
Because he knows what this mouth can do and..
“It’s going to make me come”…
“Are you sure it’s my mouth that’s gonna make you…”
“Shut your mouth,” he says, “just shut your mouth.”
So I tease and love him and his mouth is on my skin and on my eyes and on my throat and he knows I can’t deal, he knows I can’t deal with all he’s got.
“Ask for it. Tell me what you want.”
“Give it,” I say. “I want it now. Give it to me now.”
And with a couple of thrusts, he does as I command and I respond, my body responds and we’re together now.
So I smile. Because he makes me smile.
I shut my eyes. Tight. It wasn’t you.
As his hand glid over my breast, and he moaned, it wasn’t you.
His hand slid over my belly, dipped down into my valley, my eyes just got tighter and I turned my head, willing his eager face out of my mind.
He moved on top and his head buried deep in my neck, his mouth breathing hot air, his tongue darting in and out and I groaned. Where are you?
Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you him? Why isn’t he you?
He entered me and my body gave in to the pleasure, gave in to my weakness and I begged my body to respond quick, begged my body to hurry up and get mine.
And within minutes, as he moved against me, grinding on me, filling me completely, my body released, pushing against him for that extra inch that would give me that extra mile.
And still my eyes remained closed. Wide shut. Your pretty face in my head, looking deep into my eyes, that smile spreading on your face, asking for my want, asking for my need, asking for me to give myself, your voice in my ear, your scent on my pillow, your touch on my skin.
But you weren’t here.
Because it wasn’t you.
I’m not ready, to end this freaky affair, I’m not ready, to go nowhere… – Keith Sweat, “I’m Not Ready.”
How does something end without even beginning?
How do you tell “our story”? How will you say how you met me and where we met? How we only made love three times? Three times.
The first time, the first time alone…
How can you talk about that? How can you describe….that?
What will you say?
That you were finishing my sentences after having met me only an hour before…
That your heart was pounding so loudly, I could feel it when my fingers softly touched your chest…
That when you touched me, my body actually tingled and you felt it in your fingertips…
You called it. You said I was electric.
How are you going to talk about loving me?
That I made you moan uncontrollably, even though I covered your mouth with mine..
That I had to hush baby to remind you to keep quiet because your sounds were so sexy…
That you couldn’t keep from staring into my eyes with every thrust, enjoying the look of pleasure, knowing you were giving me that pleasure…
That your body froze once you spilled into me and you called my name. My name…
That you wanted to swallow me whole with every kiss…your tongue exploring and never tiring and wanting more and wishing time would stand still…
You said I was amazing. You called me a queen.
What about the second time? How you spent your birthday in my bed? And how I was trying to wait until midnight to kiss you but I couldn’t wait any longer and your eyes softened like you were in love when I reached over and put my lips on yours? How we were trying so patiently to prolong our love time together so we talked, we talked about why you thought it made sense that I like giraffes? And how we laughed out loud at your choice of animal and we were giddy and youthful and fun? And how, when you undressed, it was an urgency to have your naked body on my bare skin?
How am I going to forget you? How?
Forget the temperature of your skin.
Forget the warmth of your hugs.
Forget the shape of your lips.
Forget the long stroke of your slender fingers.
Forget that scar above your eyebrow, the one I always ask about.
Forget the feel of your back on my fingertips.
Forget the strength of those legs that keep me pinned to this bed.
Forget the length of you that fills me completely.
And the last time….
If I knew that would be our last time, you’d still be here.
I don’t want to make my bed.
I don’t want to mess up the memories of my late night and my early morning with…
I want the rumpled up bed to remain like this, the print of his head on my pillow, the duvet tossed carelessly aside to enable him to move…
On top of me.
When his lips captured mine, all the questions didn’t matter. My why’s and when’s and how come’s were answered as soon as his tongue touched mine.
His voice, his face, his eyes, his smile.
And then he looked down at me as he entered me, his eyes watching mine, his mouth reaching and I could sense the struggle between kissing me and watching me and kissing won because kissing me was what he was meant to do.
His strokes were in tempo with my heart, his moans in sync with my breath, and I laid still, capturing the moment in my memory so I could think about it now, write about it now, remember the details now.
He spoke my words, my thoughts, my feelings..
Do you know how good you feel?
I want to stay inside you like this forever.
And I smiled because I know.
I knew then that I wanted him inside forever.
But then the waves started to threaten and I could feel him, and he moved, ever so rhythmically, pounding yet caressing, pushing yet touching, fucking yet…
So loving and maddening and frustrating and…
Perfectly in tune with what my body was telling him, listening to how my body moved, yet, still I laid, capturing, remembering, thinking…
Memorizing his body and his strokes and his touch and his skin, my God his skin, and his mouth that made me tremble and go weak and limp under his command and still, I laid, motionless…
And I lay here now, remembering, thinking, memories of his body on this bed, his body on mine, his fingers on my skin, his tongue probing, finding…
I remember your taste.
And I can’t wait to have him again.
I want to know how to please you. How to constantly breathe fresh air into your being, so that I may be selfish and consume you. Move you. In ways that make us dance forever, US being in tune. I just want to groove with you.
You are sunshine, no grey skies. I’m trying to climb all the way to where you are, in order to get a better view of you. You are a gift from the Creator, created on the most expensive canvas.
I just want my strokes to make it so that I’m worthy of continuing to examine the masterpiece that is you.
And if time is precious, I will never waste it by being anything but of value to you.
For I adore you, the definition of true love….
Written by @litlifelikeit
In my head, we have these conversations, these he-said-she said types of convo.
“You love how I eat on that cookie…”
And it’s been months but I hear your voice.
“I can tell you been eating those pineapples.”
Where’ve you been? I drive around hoping to run into you, catch that red light, look casually over to my left and see you there.
“Let me fuck you back to sleep…”
And in my head, that conversation has happened and even these fantasies are rushed through, just to get you in my bed.
“As soon as I touch you there…”
You’re always smiling, always happy to see me. But your mystery kills me, this slow suicide that chokes me, suffocates me little by little.
“You want me to say your name…”
You’re mine in my fantasy.
“Lay there naked waiting for me…”
And it’s perfect, even when it’s not. This vibe, this connection, months later I feel you, and I know you feel me too. It’s scary really, when I pop in your head and you wonder where I came from, you want to reach out, you want to feel these curves, you want to taste this.
“Let me ride…”
And the answer is always yes. In my head, it’s happened over and over and baby boy, over again and yet again.
“Just hold on tight to me, girl…”
And there’s no pain, no sadness, just mutual satisfaction and pleasure and you’re back right where you belong, right where my head’s had you all along, right where my insides want you deep.
“I wanna fuck you back to sleep.”