I’m fighting myself. I know I am.
One minute I want to remember.
The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting.
One minute I want to feel.
The next minute I never want to feel again.
— Benjamin-Alire-Sáenz —
Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
I return to you. My breath catches to see you there, framed by the doorway, ensconced in wedgewood and velvet. Oh, my: so unspeakably gorgeous, you.
You watch me as I walk towards you. The piano man does his thing. Again, I wonder at this meeting we have found, amazed anew: why in the world are you here… with me? Your expression is unreadable – so serious – so intent on me; I’m gripped with a sudden fear at what I cannot see and in it, the looming dark blinds me; I prepare to lose.
Then, ivory keys shimmy through me. The light returns and I don’t care who notices me dancing for you or how goofalicious it is. Your sweet smile seduces me once more. This. This is the peace I have learned to trust.
These are the things I will remember. These are the thoughts I am not brave enough to speak.
I look into your intense, soulful eyes. The room disappears and time stills; it is just you and me. Yet again, they transport me for seconds that feel like the gentlest of forevers. I am both full and empty. My chest aches with colours I only feel… words I wish I could paint.
Us: I whisper our names with my soul.
Us: looking at one another, trying not to give ourselves away…
Not for the first time, I breathe you in. To be with you like this changes me. Again, I am revealed… awakened to this creature I have never been: one who can fully take care of myself, and yet who enjoys allowing you to take care of me, anyway.
It is nothing short of revolution, this revelation.
I caress your strong hand and hold your finger.
I follow you into the night.
It is not as dark as we were led to believe.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84i7zQ_ACnU&w=380&h=320
The smooth edges of my pussy glide up along your legs to your hips and farther still; I shift and adjust, finally resting at peace here behind you. I trust you with my weight. With the smoothest part of myself, I come to stillness atop your broad back. The oil slides. When I stroke and knead, your body winces from memories it will not speak – the details of all your hurts and joys I will likely never know.
There is a knot wrapped around one of your ribs, under your arm. I place my hand on this, this secret. My long legs straddle your width and our flesh mingles. My clit nestles. You are warm; I am grateful for your heat. With each inhale, I feel your expanse under the soft of my palm. I ease myself into this tender spot hidden under your arm, in the shadow of your bony cage.
For all our uncertainty, you allow me here – with you, in this place. I hold it dear, like a fawn who has yet to try her legs. I protect what lies under hand. This is what I do for you. And in return you close your eyes and breathe… just, breathe. This is what we are: a man and a woman, naked. We are the shadow.
And there is nothing between us. . . nothing except the hot breath of secrets.
“We don’t get to choose what is true.
We only get to choose what we do about it.”
L― Kami Garcia ―
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret,
between the shadow and the soul.”
I say there is no love in lies.
You say nothing and I think, we will find one another in the middle.