Simply Put, or Maybe Not

12–16–2015

I can feel your heart beat as I sit playfully on your lap, hands locked in yours while I gently maneuver myself in a faux position of power.
The force behind me, your strong and firm excitement warmly tucked to the curve of my body, mirrors my own.
You tease with a gentle lift of your hips while I lean forward to kiss and grant safe passage, you know the place intimately.
Hesitation lingers at the edge, unsure if you should continue on or make me beg because you know I will, know I can’t resist.

There is no high road to take as I succumb to your taunt and slink lower down from face to chest, lips to neck.
Pink circles greet my tongue while it searches for the spot, for the ever changing stretch of skin that makes you roll your eyes.
Nibble, lick, suck, nibble in a rhythm I know will taunt you just enough to turn the tables, switch control.
Fingers eagerly running along my body in chase of what they don’t yet know, helpless to control themselves while my attention is at your perfectly pink nipples.

And the thrill, the thrill of knowing that there are still places we have not gone and land not yet charted though we have tasted every inch of one and other,
The thrill of each and every second being as genuine and pure as if it were the first time, as if it were that time you got to your knees to worship what you came to love, and what drove you to finish off on the freeway after you’d gone,
Still courses through our eager bodies, offering more than pleasure to the other, seeking comfort that can be found nowhere else.

Then suddenly we’ve switched, you tower over my small and willing body, smiling at the way I’ve bowed to your desire.
Laying prostrate in your grace, I open to take communion as if I’d never once been fed because I never have, not by you.
And you reach out, your warm hand offering me a mutual satisfaction though my pleasure comes from ensuring you are more than pleased by the actions I would take any given chance.
Eyes locked, I feel epiphany approaching in shudders and uneven breaths, a calling to the primal instinct to claim that which is yours, that which I have given.
Convulsive elations escape as you attempt to retreat, but I’ve hungered much to long to allow you to deny me this gift.

Collapsing into each other once more, to feel the beating of our not-so-steady hearts, to feel the heat and sweat delivered by what can only be described as unfettered passion,
You ask why my hands will not stop their persistent roaming along the white and tender body I so desperately love,
And the only answer I can give, the only one that I myself can muster, is that the topography of your body, of each and every freckle and hair,
Must be memorized and catalogued to ensure that while you are away and in the arms of another, that while you move across state lines to a place that I cannot join,
There will at least be the memory of what and who you were to me, of what I was to you and the beauty we built in the now forsaken space I can only bare when I dream of the taste of you on my lips, of the love I have for you and only you.

Of the reality that while our sex was great, and our feelings genuine, fate was most unkind to show a glimpse of what happiness was only to yank it from within our grasps.
Then again, while I drag you into another bout of passion, perhaps it is best that you are leaving.
There is no shame in saying, because nothing you are to me is shame, that I have broken each and every code I hold sacred to be at your side.
I’d do it again if you asked, I’d bend over backwards and inside out if only to see you smile one last time.