“Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.”
Her name swirled in my mouth like hot chocolate on a winter’s day. If I took it too quick, it would burn in the fury of being rushed, so I breathed her in, slow and gentle, with little sips of desire and awe. She easily warmed my deepest parts, and very slowly, my chill changed to a spreading glow of warmth. The pins and needles of my deep freeze made her work an exhilarating passionate dance. Her touch needed no words as my mind filled with her tactile conversation and my replies, only soft tremors of appreciation. Closing my eyes, I lifted my head to the clear midnight sky, the stars seemed to stall their charge toward dawn to catch a glimpse of Sentient’s captive. My ears caught a hint of her hidden nakedness as I followed the breeze swirling its way through the tall pines then a tickle ran up my neck when she spun around to see me. Playing with me, the cool of the air countered the warmth of my body in a gentle tug of war, like puppies playing with a toy, first a gentle nudge, a pull, then a rougher jerk that foretold of things to come. She had all of me, a pleasure now, but soon, a curse for there are times when a man is better off to never feel again.
…there are times when a man is better off to never feel again…
First published in Opinionsofeye.com