July 2009
20 posts
“I think it’s the difference between being dominant and possessive. Between...”
Thanks for tonight.
I’m already imagining so many more.
sex on the brain
makes it difficult
to get shit done
Up all night, talking.
I came upstairs and it was morning. A bird and fog in the trees. The ground wet from last night’s storm. I should go to bed, to sleep. I must be tired.
I would have talked with you ‘til night again.
I’m all worn out but wide awake. Lying in the dark, trying to keep my eyes closed. I bring you to mind. Your skin, your smell, your sounds and tastes. The way you used to look at me. The way it felt when we were together. Those many moments. Some tender, some passionate, some vulgar, some blissful, some all those things and more at once. My memories of you remain vivid, although I know they...
bodies, close
I sat down on the bus, and when you got on at the next stop you sat next to me. The bus driver had just finished yelling at some douchebags he’d kicked off and you asked me about it. We talked, briefly. Only a couple sentences really. Then I read a research article and you sat looking forward, hands on top of your case of Budweiser.
A stop or so later the couple got on. Young and...
Night Air
Night air on my skin. My clothes a barrier, a burden. Oh how I long to shed them, fabric sliding down my legs, along my arms, over my head, and there I am. Free. Open. Exposed. To that warm air softly lapping up against me caressing and teasing me. I am enveloped in its silky warmth I am breathing it in sweet soft velvet on my tongue whispering in my ears. (sweet nothing) ...
I look like a dancer tonight.
If only I could move like one.
a quick note
I was going to go to bed early tonight, I was. I’d accepted that nothing was going to get done and I might as well go to sleep. So I prepared to tear myself away from this glowing screen I am so fond of. Logging out, closing tabs and applications, tweeting my farewell. This one was the last to go. I thought, I’ll just take one quick look… and I clicked and scanned ‘til I...
Longing
I’m salty tonight, With sweat and tears. The air is close and my breath feels shallow. I want you to be here. I can’t hold myself the way you can hold me. The way I want to be held. The arms I need around me, Squeezing tight, Cradling, Enveloping.
Music that is warm and loving and brings a knowing smile to my lips With you around Is empty now. All melancholy, steeped with...
you are hot as hell
me: ——, you are hot as hell. Hot like a bumbleberry pie, hot like a sunburn, hot like oil spitting up from a frying pan, hot like too many blankets, hot like a flush spreading across cheeks and chest, hot like a silky Thai curry, hot like sole-burning sand. But not like an electrical fire.
him: not like an electrical fire? I like being all those other things, dangerous though many of...
strange(r) times
Have you ever fantasized about meeting me somewhere as if for the first time?
Bumping into each other on a dance floor or in the produce aisle or on the bus. Making small talk like strangers, complete with hesitant eye-contact. “Accidentally” touching because we’re dancing close or reaching to check the ripeness of the same avocado or because the bus is full. Lingering there a...
Pretty Please?
Tonight I’m going to make you beg for it. Not just ask or imply or suggest. No, this time you’re going to need to convince me. And you know how stubborn I can be. Just because you can see a flush developing on my chest and my nipples hardening, my breath getting heavier — just because you can sense my pulse racing under my skin and see a glistening on the chair below me —...
web cam girl
Call initiated. Loading the video feed. And there I am. And there you are. In near-living colour and moving pictures with sound. Tonight however we are not having a conversation, we are conducting a transaction. You watch me and listen to my breathing, the little noises my clothing makes when it rubs against me, the song I’m listening to. You are mute. Typing your requests to me, your...
submission hold
I know you think I’m underestimating you. That you are much stronger than I know. Perhaps it’s true. Or maybe I’m tackling you knowing I’ll lose. Maybe I know this wrestling match is fixed and I’m looking forward to being thrown off of you, pinned, pressed up against your tense frame. Maybe I’m counting on it.
Then again maybe you are also underestimating me....
reunion
It’s been years, but when you held me close to you I still felt it. Meeting your eyes with mine and holding your gaze — other people might have been uncomfortable, but to me it just felt right. Natural. I can still see the boy in you. I see a lot in your eyes. I feel like we’ve both changed and grown and mutated away from who we were, yet somehow I feel like I still know you....
You mauled me that night. Even though I’d changed out of that sexy outfit and into some decidedly unsexy pajamas. I didn’t need them. Neither of us slept that night. You were all over me, pushing me back into the couch, grabbing my flesh. Your mouth on mine our bodies pressed together. I counted nine hickies the next morning. It was much too warm to wear a turtleneck or a scarf, and...
all full up
Walking around that day, talking to your parents at dinner, tending to household chores, did you know all along it was inside me?
I don’t have anything to wear. At least not anything suitable. Something hot. Something dirty. My closet just stares back poker-faced. I mean there’s the rubber and the vinyl and the lace and the corsetry and hosiery and gloves. But that stuff’s not for wearing over to your parent’s house, or to the mall, or the beach. At least not today. I want something nasty but nice. A...