Uncurl my sleep-packed limbs, wake them slowly with one tiny little pinpoint of sensation that flushes through my blood. Add another, and another, placed delicately on the scales to keep them on the edge of nearly enough but not quite, not yet; a tracery of pleasure on my skin. Blur the boundaries between deliberate and accidental fuel for the fire, while the flames lick slowly, gradually taking hold.
My mind anticipates and my cool skin responds, warming from the glowing core, and the heated circle turns, slowly tightening with pleasure both vicarious and felt. Let me think I follow my own dictates, while every muscle stretches and flexes, and second-guess me with pure mindlessness; provoke the animal response with perfectly measured pressure that wipes out conscious thought.
Closer to the tipping edge it all slows, pared down and reduced to its essence, and all the excess falls away. And then stripped of the superfluous, of everything beyond my body now, there is nothing to impede the last fast licking flame, nothing to hold me back or block my way, and I can only let it consume me.
I long for you. When I’m falling asleep and when I wake up, and when I least expect it.
August 23, 2007 at 1:03 am
When it’s unexpected is when it hits the hardest. When you believe you are thinking about something else altogether… and bam!
August 23, 2007 at 11:46 am
What a lovely description. The longing, it burns low and deep. And god, how it hurts, that stab, suffusing in a dull ache!
August 23, 2007 at 1:03 pm
Sometimes i feel the achey pang before i know what it is about. Then i know i’m in trouble
August 23, 2007 at 5:42 pm
LFM, yes, when it suddenly poleaxes and drops you…
Thanks orchidea, mistress of the beautiful description. The dull ache is worse than the stab, I think.
N… damn. Can’t think of anything comforting to say to that