Summer
The sun outside the closed blinds making its presence felt, the sheen of sweat on his smooth back and everywhere our bodies touch, the noise from the dryer downstairs. My fingertips trace shapes through sweat until my hands lock round his arms and my nails dig in. I have four evenly-spaced bruises on one side of my back, and four more on the other side somewhere between my shoulder and my chest: these ones are angrier and more constant, as though they are renewed every day, but I never felt them. When we fuck I think I can feel everything that he experiences as well as I feel everything that I do. Sometimes I have no sense of who I am, only what I am. Afterwards he sleeps, and I go downstairs and smoke a cigarette, trying to get back inside my own head.
I love when you post
Ah.. loss of self while fucking despite awareness of everything else external–the sun, the dryer. The attempt to come back to self after… Nice.
mmmmmmm. i want that. today.
Thank you, kate – I should really do it more often. LD, I know you know how it feels. Max, me too.
Hi! i’m repost you post: to my @amsaquli twitter
Hot! I enjoyed reading this. Readers who may be interested in learning about the secret world of phone sex operators are also welcome here.