Remnants of Merlot in my mouth.
Remnants of Merlot in my mouth.
My lover begins to arouse me.
Easy, gentle caresses sensually sliding down the arm.
A trail of warmth left behind from his touch.
Hot breath and lips making their way around the small of the neck.
Small moans escape me, begging for more.
Delicate licks leaving a moist trace around the back of the ear.
Tingling feathers out to my extremities.
The tongue seeking refuge in an acquiescent mouth.
Our fervent kisses forge deep, wrestling in liquid and softness.
Reaching for the other for pleasure.
He does that to me when we can’t take life seriously anymore.
Only having each other will satisfy.
For the genteel, F-word.
Called out as an expletive.
King of words for so many expressions.
A simple look in my direction gave away his secret. The sensuality vibrating towards me with intent, but with a shy and curious hesitation. He was scared.
I was wanted.
Flirtation became our diurnal repetition.
But I wanted more than a game of frustration; each day ending unfulfilled.
Every encounter promised more friction.
The heat wasn’t just in our eyes.
Desire growing with each attempted exposure of natural impulse.
And then it happened.
An innocent, accidental touch; the catalyst to change our ways.
The electricity in the room was palpable.
Our bodies and our mouths finally and unequivocally declared YES!
His bold lips rushing towards mine dizzying me with an intensity of soft passion.
My world melted in that moment.
I found strength in his embrace, and a lusciousness hard to ignore.
His body dared me to explore what now was being offered openly for me to take.
My fingers caressed every curve, yearning to get beneath the fabric.
I pulled it all away, and he did the same.
Beholding our nakedness unleashed unprecedented joy in our expressions.
And more hunger for satisfaction.
I wanted my new lover to consume me completely.
As reality perished around me, I’m taken to the near-fatal edge of my existence.
Minds swirling together in ecstasy, limbs wet with our body’s mist.
Deep breath-taking, in your ears heart-pounding, a steady pressure-building sexual agitation.
All culminating in an unfathomable intensity.
It’s like we’re hydrogen and oxygen.
Pausing my distressed state, I distracted myself diving deeply into gastronomy. Immersed and focused on fusing the flavors of carefully selected ingredients, I relished the finished product. Ingesting my creation, finding enjoyment in it, allowing a small measure of an easement to occur in my current state of dysfunction.
The problem at hand begged for inner reflection. Waking every morning was a ritual of opening the eyes and viewing out my bedroom window, just staring at the trees and listening to the sounds of nature. Sometimes for hours. Processing, mulling over and remembering every moment of pain. What felt like agony and torture initially gradually allowed a sense of understanding to move into the grey matter.
A deep need to release anger and frustration created a passion for a familiar act. I required the physical focus, a hungry attack on the flesh. It was an attempt at duplicating intensity, replacing pain with pleasure. And it was had.
The process helped.
I got through my trauma.