Imagining Him, Series I: Uncertainly Edging Closer

Begun March 15, 2016.

He edged closer, a little uncertain. As he approached, I looked once again into the pools of ocean blue he was lucky to call his eyes, holding his gaze with the light-and-dark shades of my own brown ones. They looked like their depth magnified every time, so I backed up against the wall. A rumble emerged from his throat — not quite a growl, but somehow close to that. I exhaled, breathless, and let loose a quiet breath; tentative and patient. He looked mesmerised, running his fingertips across his impossibly pink lips.

Then he leaned in, close to my ear, breathing carefully on the back of my neck. I opened my mouth like a fish, but no words came tumbling forth. Terrified that I might stutter my way through this, a sigh shot forward instead. Tilting my head, I had a crazy idea I might sway this jock after all. Taking hold of his right hand, I picked up his index finger, slowly bringing it to my mouth; all the while imploring with my eyes for him to not stop me. I opened my mouth, and closed my lips around the tip, sucking gently, as if he would still snatch away his finger and run off. His mouth flew open and his eyes instantly darkened with a glow I’d never seen before.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he arched his neck backward, cords standing erect before me, before slipping a second tip into my mouth to join the first. I was hooked on the taste; as I worked on my rhythm, his eyes were squeezed shut. A moment later, he opened his blazing eyes, and asked, “How long have you been waiting for me, wanting to do that?”in his raspy, cold-ravaged voice. I was stunned into speechlessness as he withdrew his fingers, taking care to run his wet fingers across the underside of his jawline.

He leaned in, placing his mouth close to mine, and I leaned forward. “Is this okay?” We both asked simultaneously. Chuckling in ecstasy, he moved his mouth toward mine, taking care to avoid bumping noses, and I caressed his lips with my own before his mouth closed over mine. His mouth was so much more gentle than I expected it to be; my eyes fluttered shut in that moment of elation, as he tasted so undeniably masculine that every nerve in my body screamed his name. He nipped at my upper lip, and I sucked at his lower lip, marvelling how the red could ever taste so powerfully male and yet so right.


Begun March 23, 2016.

You are brave, sitting there on my left, right next to me, as I gossip about the thrill of having you so close to faraway family and friends. You are sweet, to linger on my eyes as you speak to me. You are courteous to have thought to bid me goodbye with a wave and a nod. You walk up to me and show me something on your iphone, quietly inhaling the scent of me, making my pulse race faster than horses at their races.

Your hair smells like what divine would be, if I believed in a higher power. Your breath makes the hair on my neck rise, and all other hair to stand to attention. You spit is warm and feels like joy as you lick your way up the arc of my neck. You nip my ear, and I gasp aloud, my eyes fluttering shut as they contemplate your teeth making contact with my skin. I want your teeth marks to leave an imprint that lasts, so I clutch the back of your head, leading it none-too-gently to the other ear, where you bite harder.

My knees buckle and I sway, but your arms hold me steady as I drink in your voice, deep and hollow, which is honeyed in its rasping state. Words fail me. Perhaps it would be easier if you took me here, on the table, where everyone loves to sit — especially you, highlighting notes and lines in texts. Perhaps the ecstasy would be blinding, watching you take me and make me entirely yours.

Would you struggle not to freak out afterwards? Would you be disturbed by the thought of having coupled with another man? Would you still cradle your head in my arms, casting caution to the wind? Would you be able to cope with the enormity of making love to me? Would you ever come to wanting me after having had me in every sense of the word?

Unlike you, my fantasy dream must come to terms with reality — whatever that is. I submit unequivocally to the power you wield, sometimes wittingly, over me, while knowing full well that you may not deserve me or my attraction at all for all that I know about your fickleness. Was it ever easier to walk up and mention a casual attraction for the symmetry of your face, with an interesting personality; can I have your number and maybe we could find out sometime?

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