This month's Zero Boss's Blogging For Books asks for:
...write an original blog post about one of three topics: lying, fornicating, or going home.
Not that any of my readers need to wonder about what I'm writing about. Nonetheless, if you're offended by anything remotely erotic, you'll want to skip this post.
Damn, I hope it's erotic and not some greasy Letter to Penthouse. Let me know in your comments. Christ, I'm not winning any contest with this filth...
Anyway, her tis':
Just moments ago the headboard pounded against the wall, neighbors be damned.
Now, in the afterglow, the tips of my fingers tracing hieroglyphs imperceptibly over your kneecaps, kissing you, forgetting what else I write along your thighs as soon as I write it, I ask, what’s next? Does this keep getting better? Increase? Still? More? More?
Sign me up.
All we have is this mattress, a raft, adrift, just floating somewhere between anyone else in the world and us, us and another bottle of wine and an order of Chinese food and DVDs and Music and some more poetry and more talking which becomes more fucking and more and more.
More, yes, more. More More.
There’s not a lot left on this raft but more, so why not take all we can get? Suddenly stranded with someone else who also wants just as much and realizing both of us have abundance of what the other wants, why not? With nothing but millions of square miles of empty ocean between us and any hint of civilization, I’ll drink all you’ll give me and more, the more you give me to drink, the more I want. Get me drunk, no big deal, we’ve nothing else to do but screw; stranded and baking our brains in this heat, intoxicated, exploring each other, touching, tasting, listening, smelling, sensing, feeling, unwrapping each other with such intimacy, there are no boundaries between us, only this. Everything is this, right here, where we are, anything else is just miles of expansive sea, mirage, a mirror reflecting the fact that we are it and nothing else exists.
You rise, your body shimmering in the dim flicker of the chorus of candles blazing across the dresser. Pouring us another glass of wine, I see you’re a goddess, glowing, sublime, divine, a dream, admired and awed at from afar, my tongue hungry for every perfect curve of yours, yearning to trace every turn and protrusion. You know I’m watching, desiring, hungry, thirsty, that knowledge drawing moisture from within you, wetting you, slickening you, readying you for another stiff ride.
Jumping back onto our raft with the insouciance of a girl, you slosh wine out of the glass and onto my chest. Our laughs skip off into oblivion as you press your lips just above my nipple, licking up a few drops of wine, taking a single hair into your mouth like a straw and sucking, nothing wasted, everything gained. Gathering up the rest of the spilled wine, your mouth edges closer to my erection as my hand urges you downwards, stroking your hair, massaging between your shoulder blades. I don’t need more wine I want more, uh, yes, more, that, mmmmmm, baby, yes.
An immense thirst, yours. You take another slug of wine before you slide the glass onto the side table and then return to sip, kiss, lick, suck Arousal seeking arousal, you ease your thighs across me, straddling my face, offering me a drink, your voluptuous scent shattering any pretense of resolve I might have held. My tongue presses across you, over you, up you, down you, into you, back and forth, gently attacking every fold, every crevice, every bump, every hole, seeking, seeking, “yes” and “oh” and “uh” and “nnnnggghhhh” and “fuck”. Not an easy task, mine. I try to keep my composure and concentrate while my hips thrust to meet the rhythm of your mouth. Eat, drink, both of us, more, there is more and there is now but the distinction is lost in this.
Swimming. The raft is suddenly filled with water and we are like fish, fins slapping against each other, shaking with excitement, slipping in and out of the slivers of light piercing the surface, silver apparitions glittering in the infinite deep. The more we drink, the wetter we get, sloshed, soaking in each other’s ascendance towards more than the last more. Our bodies slip to one side, turn, grapple, gasp for breath as we grasp at wet skin, pulling each other deeper into this, us, oneness. Sliding onto me, taking me into you, you stir, grind, rise and fall, your face tipped back and eyes half open, lips slightly parted as I adore you, all of you, inside and out, adoring you and this, no more, no less, nothing else but us.
Rising along my length, your face hovering above mine while your nipples brush slowly upwards through my chest hair, you allow a moan to ooze from your throat and wrap me with its resonance, my molecules vibrant, humming, vibrating as the sound penetrates me. Holding me just inside you, JUST inside you, you quiver, quake, catch your breath and then push back onto me, hard, taking all of me at once, gasping as you press upon my pubis, flat and wet, moisture sprayed with the force, labia splayed and almost sucking against my skin. Another gasp, another groan, you rise again, another goddamn you feel so good, god, go more, more, more.
The rhythm maddens as I meet your pace, pound for pound, pushing deep. Pushing, pulling, pleasure beginning to swell within and pulsing with increasing force. This. Us. Now. Fuck. God. More. Yes. There. This. This again, that again, this and god now fuck yes oh yes yes yes, god yes.
Light and nothing but light, pure energy and the void that is not our heavy breathing and caresses. In the universe, we are the only stars and we have just cut that number in half. Fusion. The result is, by equation, infinite and eternal amounts of energy thrust into a void that takes it and perpetuates the process, the process of yet more.
-- 30 ---------------
I warned you.......