I’m Not Ready…

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

Sensational.

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.

How?

And the last time….

If I knew that would be our last time, you’d still be here. 

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Back 2 Sleep

We talk.

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.”

S.B.S. ❤️

Enamored…

When he laughs, my whole being feels.  It’s real laughter, no games, no pretense, no falsehood.  And I’m pleased.

When he touches me, my whole being trembles.  His touch reminds me I’m alive and awakens every sense.

And when he kisses me, I melt into him and I remember the first time we kissed and he melted into me then and I want to cry, tears of awesome joy and happiness and this, this lust, this inner peace is something, it’s all something, waiting to be explored.

And when he enters me, my God, how I want to give him all of me.  My body yields fully into him and I want to give him more and more and more.  And I let him take me and let him feel every last bit of my existence and I feel him inside and it’s right, it’s all right and I kiss his neck and run my nails along his back and kiss his shoulder to avoid screaming and this is love, this is love we’re making, it’s all love we’re making.  I’m totally and completely enamored by him.

He’s finishing my thoughts and completing my sentences and this is too soon, it’s too quick, it’s too much passion all at one time and I have no control, I can’t help it, I just want it, I want him, I want it all.

And when he says my name….

Nothing else matters.  Life is complete.  It’s all emotions rolled into one, my passion, my lust, my peace, my joy, my happiness and I just want to hold him and hear him again and feel him again and kiss him, my God, how I love his kisses and it’s complete.

I’m complete.

I just want to hear my name in his mouth again…