Part true, part fantasy, and part borrowed!
Early morning sneaks through the slats of the timber blinds, light resting on my eyelids, slowly warming my senses, bringing me back. The distant sounds of crashing waves are constant, echoing in the rafters. I know that the waves are rearranging the sand, cleaning the beach of footprints; washing away history, making it a moment in time.
Like the sand, my insights are washed away by incoming tides, that is, by change or confusion or simply by time. I have to begin afresh because there is always something that I can’t quite remember or hold on to. It is quiet as I try to focus, to recall a history that has been washed away, to remember.
The watery whiteness of dawn changes colour as the sun lifts above the horizon. The cool sheets on the bed start to glow in the golden light. Opening my eyes, I see your still form and bury my face against your strong back, kiss you lightly below your shoulder blades and breathe you in, pressing my body closer. You turn to face me, on your side and I lie on my back. Our hearts warm up as though for a race. But there’ll be no loser.
My mind crowds with thoughts even though I am adrift with feelings. You start with small light kisses on my throat, then longer ones, pulling and sucking at skin, taking your measure. Your body moves up a little, some weight goes down me, as your mouth moves towards mine, open.
There is a sudden cacophony of sound outside as the sunbeams stretch, birds calling to each other. We laugh at the noise then it disappears from consciousness as we turn back to each other. I move my legs apart, one knee bent, the other presses hard against you. My body asks you to lie on top of me. Still slowly kissing me, soft and then hard with your wide open wonderful mouth, you move to lie above me, weight on elbows. Your left hand holds the crown of my head, as if to guard that vulnerable place where feelings may escape or fears might enter.
I stroke the side of your face, shaping it and brailling it to my memory. Our bodies heat up, skin starts to glisten with sex, and I arch my body to find more of you. You draw me in along the length of my body, knowing that I want your hand to travel down my body faster, but you interminably slowly reach for my shoulder and move your hand towards my breast, kiss me again. I push up from beneath, trying to reach you, high as a cloud above the earth.
A whimper escapes me as you move away from my mouth, wet tongue like gentle sandpaper, circling but not reaching my nipple. I strain, cannot wait, your mouth closes over my nipple finally, and sucks and plays with it, as it hardens I call your name. No questions clutter my mind, I not aware of anything but you.
Masks fall to the floor; thoughts are muffled by the roar. As my head falls back, I cry out, “Amant, fuck me, Amant“. Your face is shocked, then delighted, and I see the excitement in your eyes. It is clear that you will make me wait, and I love the waiting as we make the ancient journey across mutual passion.
You stretch your arm to run your fingers up and down the inside of my thighs, scratching me, leaving marks to show where you have been but not hurting me. You whisper to me, describing my wanting and pleasure. I move my legs wider apart. You are tickling with words, tormenting me. As your mouth moves back to mine, tongue circling as your hand moves closer to cup the shape of me, I twist my head to plead, “Now, Amant, Now.” Then, slowly, you slide your middle finger down to part my pubic hair, caressing my clitoris as you pass, slowly, you bend your fingers and, at last, go deep inside, sliding in. As your hand finds its rhythms, I shake and sigh and call out to God, knowing that your hand is wondrous, delicate, sensitive, strong; all and exactly what I want. Your fingers continue to move and my breathing guides you as your thumb bends, circles, passes, circles my clitoris.
I cannot tell how your fingers move, there is only sensation. I am lost, found, carried along, forging my way, bursting larger and larger into life from a centre which is the place where you are touching me, this place can no longer push away my orgasm, I am coming, arriving, going beyond myself as I shout into your mouth. There is a great shifting and heaving inside: emotions emerging from long entombment.
As you continue, rhythm above matching rhythm beneath, memories of moon and tide changes stir within me, unnamed, deeply felt. I have a desire to understand, want a thousand hands and a thousand mouths.
You crawl down leaving a snail trail of wet licks, tiny sucks, small kisses. When you are all the way down you rest your head on my pelvis, gathering strength before returning to the ocean-like salinity of the womb.
I moan and put my hand on the crown of your head, urging you towards the centre of my being, to push pass all barriers, until your tongue moves against it in a rhythm to match your fingers. Excitement continues to grow, in a whirlpool, the centre is very near. It is no longer your name that I call, or that of God, but wordless whimpers of pleasure, need, delight.
As I tense and tighten, I do not want you to change your rhythm. I begin to come, circle after circle, then still more, and again. I am diving, the centre of the whirlpool is vast. I am diving and still not surfacing, I feel a flood and call your name. Then, as I gradually quieten, I reach down, this time to pull you up, gently, until our faces meet to kiss, to take in the smell, the taste, the triumph of love.
We lie together, breathing gradually slowing. Too tired or stunned to kiss. When the sweat is dry on our bodies, we move away, lie on our backs and only our hands touch. My eyes are closed, as the sun passes over, it begins to grow dark. I am no longer afraid.
Since you, I have a clear picture of the sea, not washing away my insights, but taking them into her great watery body, storing them up so that eventually they might all come together and make new sense. They are there in the sea, not lost at all. There and safe.
As you are, and will be, eternally.
Like the sand, my insights are washed away by incoming tides, that is, by change or confusion or simply by time. I have to begin afresh because there is always something that I can’t quite remember or hold on to. It is quiet as I try to focus, to recall a history that has been washed away, to remember.
The watery whiteness of dawn changes colour as the sun lifts above the horizon. The cool sheets on the bed start to glow in the golden light. Opening my eyes, I see your still form and bury my face against your strong back, kiss you lightly below your shoulder blades and breathe you in, pressing my body closer. You turn to face me, on your side and I lie on my back. Our hearts warm up as though for a race. But there’ll be no loser.
My mind crowds with thoughts even though I am adrift with feelings. You start with small light kisses on my throat, then longer ones, pulling and sucking at skin, taking your measure. Your body moves up a little, some weight goes down me, as your mouth moves towards mine, open.
There is a sudden cacophony of sound outside as the sunbeams stretch, birds calling to each other. We laugh at the noise then it disappears from consciousness as we turn back to each other. I move my legs apart, one knee bent, the other presses hard against you. My body asks you to lie on top of me. Still slowly kissing me, soft and then hard with your wide open wonderful mouth, you move to lie above me, weight on elbows. Your left hand holds the crown of my head, as if to guard that vulnerable place where feelings may escape or fears might enter.
I stroke the side of your face, shaping it and brailling it to my memory. Our bodies heat up, skin starts to glisten with sex, and I arch my body to find more of you. You draw me in along the length of my body, knowing that I want your hand to travel down my body faster, but you interminably slowly reach for my shoulder and move your hand towards my breast, kiss me again. I push up from beneath, trying to reach you, high as a cloud above the earth.
A whimper escapes me as you move away from my mouth, wet tongue like gentle sandpaper, circling but not reaching my nipple. I strain, cannot wait, your mouth closes over my nipple finally, and sucks and plays with it, as it hardens I call your name. No questions clutter my mind, I not aware of anything but you.
Masks fall to the floor; thoughts are muffled by the roar. As my head falls back, I cry out, “Amant, fuck me, Amant“. Your face is shocked, then delighted, and I see the excitement in your eyes. It is clear that you will make me wait, and I love the waiting as we make the ancient journey across mutual passion.
You stretch your arm to run your fingers up and down the inside of my thighs, scratching me, leaving marks to show where you have been but not hurting me. You whisper to me, describing my wanting and pleasure. I move my legs wider apart. You are tickling with words, tormenting me. As your mouth moves back to mine, tongue circling as your hand moves closer to cup the shape of me, I twist my head to plead, “Now, Amant, Now.” Then, slowly, you slide your middle finger down to part my pubic hair, caressing my clitoris as you pass, slowly, you bend your fingers and, at last, go deep inside, sliding in. As your hand finds its rhythms, I shake and sigh and call out to God, knowing that your hand is wondrous, delicate, sensitive, strong; all and exactly what I want. Your fingers continue to move and my breathing guides you as your thumb bends, circles, passes, circles my clitoris.
I cannot tell how your fingers move, there is only sensation. I am lost, found, carried along, forging my way, bursting larger and larger into life from a centre which is the place where you are touching me, this place can no longer push away my orgasm, I am coming, arriving, going beyond myself as I shout into your mouth. There is a great shifting and heaving inside: emotions emerging from long entombment.
As you continue, rhythm above matching rhythm beneath, memories of moon and tide changes stir within me, unnamed, deeply felt. I have a desire to understand, want a thousand hands and a thousand mouths.
You crawl down leaving a snail trail of wet licks, tiny sucks, small kisses. When you are all the way down you rest your head on my pelvis, gathering strength before returning to the ocean-like salinity of the womb.
I moan and put my hand on the crown of your head, urging you towards the centre of my being, to push pass all barriers, until your tongue moves against it in a rhythm to match your fingers. Excitement continues to grow, in a whirlpool, the centre is very near. It is no longer your name that I call, or that of God, but wordless whimpers of pleasure, need, delight.
As I tense and tighten, I do not want you to change your rhythm. I begin to come, circle after circle, then still more, and again. I am diving, the centre of the whirlpool is vast. I am diving and still not surfacing, I feel a flood and call your name. Then, as I gradually quieten, I reach down, this time to pull you up, gently, until our faces meet to kiss, to take in the smell, the taste, the triumph of love.
We lie together, breathing gradually slowing. Too tired or stunned to kiss. When the sweat is dry on our bodies, we move away, lie on our backs and only our hands touch. My eyes are closed, as the sun passes over, it begins to grow dark. I am no longer afraid.
Since you, I have a clear picture of the sea, not washing away my insights, but taking them into her great watery body, storing them up so that eventually they might all come together and make new sense. They are there in the sea, not lost at all. There and safe.
As you are, and will be, eternally.
11年前
