Visceral Lit











{May 7, 2007}   Andrew – 2004

The conversation faltered. They glanced shyly at one another, each trying simultaneously to catch the others’ eyes and yet to avoid prolonged eye contact. The minutes stretched out until the tension in the room was palpable. A haze of mind-altering hormones caused blood to rush from the centre into her cheeks and puzzlingly, her ears. A few aborted advances were made, leaning towards one another and then pulling back as though scalded by proximity. It was now or never.

The kiss was frantic. Heart thumping wildly and mind reeling she pressed her lips against his and then pulled back. He smiled and she tried to smile back. He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek and she leaned forward again. He kissed her softly and her hand, shaking and unbidden, reached up. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft and clean, her hand slid easily through it. She extended her tongue gently beyond her lips and with it studied the curve of his upper lip before allowing the tip of her nose to slide down his, their foreheads resting against one another and enveloping his lower lip in her own.

A deep intake of breath. Hands flying,
each trying desperately to keep up with their frenzied libido. The
kiss was more than that now, it was a gasping, sucking entity;
warm and moist. The lips parted and explored other regions of
the face. Fumbling fingers found their way around a variety of
catches. Clothes forgotten, they changed postion. The kiss became
deeper, the breathing more frenzied. There was no stopping it.

Control was surrendered to the deeper senses.

Her heart was pounding and her face flushed. There was
no time to wrap her head around the newness. The feel
of this body, the curve of this cheek, the smell of this
male.

Every one of her senses was stretched to capacity,
her mind flickering over each one briefly like an indecisive
hummingbird drinking in a field of flowers.

Lights flashed behind her eyes as his lips charted new
territory.

She pulled his face back to hers and locked her lips against his, desperately trying to focus on one thing. She was painfully aware of him pressing against her and her hips strained urgently toward his. A new, unbearable, emptiness was clamouring for her attention. She bit her lip, trying to regain control over her body, struggling for composure. Filling her lungs to bursting she enthusiastically called the battle.

He was strong, dominant, sexy. Her head reeled with new sensations until she wondered if she would even remain conscious. The kisses slowed, the hands became more gentle and their bodies relaxed into one another. Breathing hard they smiled, still with an unfathomable shyness, at one another. She brushed a sweaty lock of hair from his forehead and eased herself out from under him, not willing to let go.

It was late. She held his head in her lap as he drifted off to sleep. She sat contemplatively there for hours. Meditating on her newest experience, reliving it as she looked at his peaceful face. It was a good night to be alive.



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