My lips were numb and I could barely breathe. Whenever we kissed, I felt intoxicated. I wanted more. I needed more.
His kiss sucked the air directly from my lungs. When our lips parted ways, he bit down until tears welled in my eyes. His kiss felt like love so I bit him back. I was ready for love.
Then he’d trail his lips from my full bottom lip to my chin and from my chin to my neck. My pussy ached in a literal sense. My inner walls contracted and salivated.
His fingers danced to the meeting of my thighs and skipped around my clit. He kissed me again. Tiny bubbles filled my airway. My breaths would become shallow. My mind would race until I was dizzy.
This unmistakable lust had eluded me until this moment. A stolen moment.
A single stolen moment would become two and then three until each stolen moment was declared the last of its kind.
image credit: stefan kuhn
Can we make love under the crackling thunder? The droplets of rain evaporate when they kiss our bare skin.
He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.
I wonder what those things include.
Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?
As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?
Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me
Staring into my eyes so he can see us
Because I am now his submissive.
A reflection of his dominance,
A result of his care,
Remember when I started smoking? We smoked together. I used to spend the nights on the town and the days walking in the park before Mary Jane infiltrated my world. There were days the sun didn’t kiss my skin and nights the moon never got to meet the sun. We, instead, spent hours on the couch laughing over shotguns and zombies. We shared kisses infused with Hennessy and whiskey. Fresh herb stained our lips. What a life.
Our taste is on the tip of my tongue; our scent lingers on my lips and nose. A tingle remains on my backside to remind me of the way you popped my ass to correct my arch. I want to please you in every way.
I’m feeling antsy in this heat. I should be in the nude. Your hands should be fixed in the crooks of my knees. My knees should be pressed into ribs while your phallus massages my insides. The sound of coqui add to the soundtrack of our love making.
Let us recite our sacrilegious prayer. It’s the one we share prior to commencing congress. You give thanks to our higher power for giving me your rib. I give thanks for the strength in your backbone. Our lips unite after we say ‘amen.’ You’re delicious. Stroke me.
Lay up with me under clouds of weed smoke. Your fingers part my lips while you kiss the other pair.
Drunken with dusty feet, I stumbled to the rooftop with my shoes in hand. The wind whispered, “Jump & you will fly!” To which I replied, “Jump & I’ll surely die.” The cool summer rain soothed my burning skin.
I raise my glass to the people with full resumes & adequate experience yet lack the sheet of paper that exempts them from inferior pay. To Those of us actively hunting for our purpose under the umbrella of others. It’s time to dance in the rain.