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By Pure Intent
Lying in the sitting room, feet resting on the settee, the tops of our heads pointing towards the television. We're both exhausted. I glance over; her eyes are closed. I do this a number of times with little fear because she is asleep? Until her eyelids flutter open and she looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Darting my vision away I pray she hasn't noticed and yet she keeps looking. My heart is already in my mouth, God help me if she says anything. Being about a foot and a half away she rolls over and settles her back into my side. I can't move, not quite sure of what is happening. This doesn't last long however as she pushes herself from a horizontal position and begins to climb over my body. The only part of me that responds to my commands are my eyes which take in the whole of her face, confident and mysterious with a hint of amusement. There is self-satisfaction and excitement present as well. Like when you try and try to fight past what your brain and social etiquette tell you and just follow where your body leads you. It certainly looks like she is pleased with her decision though there is an air of momentous caution. This is one of those moments that will change everything. We both know it. Any thoughts I have, all conscience and sensibility abandons me as her head lowers to mine. I can feel her breath on my lips. This is the first palpable evidence I have that this is all real. Her lips press softly into mine but I can't feel anything, a full systems overload. I'm terrified of what this means. For me, for her, for the people who's lives we hold in our hands. I'm also afraid to have this ever end. For it to be snatched away leaving me in a place worse that where I started. I still have yet to move but she is not discouraged. With a knee at either side of my hips and a hand steadily placed at either side of my head she continues to brush her lips over my skin. Moving from my mouth to my jaw, the crook of my neck, up and around the outside of my ear, across my forehead and down the other side. I can feel it all now. When she has finished she moves her face away, but not too far, only to admire the effect she has had. Though I haven't moved, my breath is catching in my throat, my eyes vaguely registering the sights before them through a haze and my lips are parted allowing sufficient access to increasingly needed oxygen. My blood is pumping so hard that my head is throbbing. She settles more of her weight onto her knees so her hands are free. She rests them on my shoulders as her eyes bore into me. This time there is no excitement, only passion. When she kisses me again it is like a door has been opened deep down inside. My eyes begin to sting with moisture but none of it escapes. As her lips manipulate mine, gently pushing and pulling against them, her tongue slowly slides over them. I begin to react, cautiously opening and closing my mouth for this is all I am able to do. I feel the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her hands move to my sides where they stroke up and down a number of inches. She leans in closer and more of her body is flush with mine. The wonder of this fantasy coming true opens my mouth wider, something she takes advantage of. Her tongue dips into my mouth and runs up between my teeth and top lip, before caressing and probing the roof of my mouth. I lift my tongue to rest against hers and at the touch of the slick, sensitive skin I sigh, running it back and forth. I move my arms underneath hers and wrap them behind her back pulling her down on top of me. She moves her legs in between mine, which are slightly parted to release the increasing pressure. Her entire body is pressed against mine. It is a lot more solid than I anticipated. Her petite form still yields a strong back and compact feminine musculature. I move my hands up to her neck, hardly letting my fingers touch her skin as I run them taking the straps of her top in toe.
I pace to and fro in the garden; the cold breeze bites at my skin, cooling the blood simmering at the surface. She asks me why I'm pacing, to think I say. This is too pivotal a moment to go into blindly and needs to be rationalised in some form. There is nothing rational about this, about what has happened she says, about what is going to happen. I ask her what that is. She is silent. I stop walking as she approaches me but I hold her at bay. We look at each other remembering the last time we touched. I let go. I ask her why she has done this, with all there is at stake? Why is she taking this risk? She can't do it anymore she explains. She can't pretend that there's nothing. Every time she encounters intimacy, on television, in a book, personally, she can't deny that it's my face she sees. Imagine that it's not me touching her. This is almost too much to take. These words have come from her mouth, the same words that have resided in my head for years. Her in my mind. I need no more words. How long am I supposed to harbour everybody else's feelings and put mine away in that safe. I pull her towards me, her arms go around my neck and we're kissing again. My hands run down her back catching the bottom of her shirt, and they run back up. My fingers gently trace up the dip of her spine and she moves into me. Moving my palms to her shoulder blades for support I push against her. We slowly make our way back towards home, careful of the more difficult obstructions.
This, now, here,
No more waiting.
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