every time i close my eyes i see it.
it’s never the same image and it never lasts long but it’s there.
sometimes it’s just a naked chest, rippling as it moves below me or a limpid look in a pair of eyes or buttocks flexing as they move.
sometimes it’s two bodies, the spaces between them opening and closing as various parts slide along each other.
or the sound of the breath that forms between two mouths and circles there becoming at once more than simply oxygen impregnated air. becoming somehow possibility and magic instead.
the look of lips swollen with passion and heavy with promise. intent gaze fixing on mine for a moment.
the soft sigh as a particularly tantalizing morsel of flesh is discovered, and devoured.
the feel of dense muscle bunching and flexing beneath seeking hands. bones sliding under skin as bodies learn each other’s rhythms.
heads thrown back.
hands gripping shirts and tossing them to the side before lightly furred chest teases soft skin.
nipples crinkled long before the cool air reaches them.
mouth dropping to feast on over sensitized skin.
toes curled.
muscles tensing in response to a particularly teasing or arousing touch. body arching for more.
bodies gleaming as sweat warms them, urgency growing and yet somehow not quite yet.
moisture pooling in my core.
it’s the sound of a groan as nails slide up dewed skin or the giggle as a body is manhandled into position.
it’s the feel of a head resting on my stomach and shoulders separating my thighs.
it’s the moment when two bodies align perfectly and still continue to dance rather than complete the circuit.
it’s the taste in my mouth of my teeth learning the joinings at elbows and thighs and shoulder to neck. nibbling and biting and lavishing attention on the strangest bits.
the feel of my body ready and waiting and the little pulses that surge along nerve endings even when i’m alone.
the deep heavy pulse in my vagina whenever i close my eyes and see it.
the feeling, deep in the bones, of that first entry and the anticipation that soaks any pair of panties i wear.
that deep languid feeling low in the pit of the belly that says not if but when.
the curiosity that will be sated.
the droop of my eyelids whenever my brain takes me back there. back to the land of sighs and groans and skin and laughter and gasps.
i see the before; every time i close my eyes.
