Perfume, sweet and subtle.
My head follows my gaze. In front of me, you appear. Framed by wavy hair, eyes so deep, beauty so genuine, my heart for a moment ceases beating, then beats much too fast.
More than a decade, almost two, it has been.
You speaks, a choir of angels fills the air.
Across the room you glide. The hypnotic sway of hips controls me. Over a shoulder, a glance is an invitation.
The staircase, you climb. The uneven gait, to your walk gives a new rhythm. A sashay that calls for me to follow.
Half way into our ascent, overwhelmed,. I turn you to face me. Our mouths meet. Inhale you. I imbibe, immediate intoxication, under your spell, again, I fall.
One, then two, finds entry. Quickly, I lower my head. The taste, my God, the taste. The finest honey could not be so satisfying, the darkest chocolate so rich, nor the most expensive wine so pleasing — the true nectar of the Gods is this.
Wider, your body opens. The scent, overpowering. Faster, I move my hands. Panting passion is expressed in salacious screams.
“Fuck me!” you demand.
Our enemies are time and location. I want to, so desperately I desire to again be within. Hopefully, one day I will.
From the most succulent snatch, I take my fingers. Coated with you, I lift to your mouth. From my fingers, you suck. Within the confines of paradise, I replace them. As I take from within, my fingers glisten. I sample ambrosia.
I need to have you.
I want to have you.
I must feel you around me.
Your body is meant for pleasure.
Your soul is meant for lust.
Your very being is meant for unimaginable sin.
That night I sleep. Visions of your flawless body dance in my head – incredible bosom, nipples so tantalizing, your perfect patch of well-trimmed hair, your wet, dripping, inviting, cunt.
Each perfectly memorized, perfectly etched. Each in the present as they were in the past.
You, whom against all else have been measured, were born for the wild, you were born to the wild, your were born to define the wild. You are, as you have always been, the wild.