To hear her voice exhale, to hear the long breath leave her lungs. Staccato heartbeat, small gasps of air passing through her lips, filling her lungs..
She’s right there.
Three quarters of the work takes place in the mind, and she’s right there with me.
What a gift.
What a beautiful thing.
All it takes is a touch of imagination.
Hands on skin, words in ears, mouthes on necks.
Well trimmed fingernails, gripping into the flesh,, right on the boundary of pleasure and pain.
Connection.
Well beyond some one night stand bullshit.
Well past a hunt and a kill.
“When there’s feelings involved”
Say it true…
Something so good that you just want to wrap yourself in it, like a blanket.
It’s music.
Tension and release and building and building and building…. makes you feel like a teenager..
That breathing.
Those shallow sounds, the moaning and the verbal requests for the carnal ..
Connection babe.
All that other shit is garbage, surface level,, ain’t even fuckin with what’s real… What’s real is in there.
The crown.
The power.
Ain’t on the fuckin internet yo….
It’s between you… and another person.
Duh..
dawn 