Desire

Behind her dilated pupils laid a longstanding passion crying to be released. A passion that was not for me, and not in love, but in anger and desperation. In her private agony the delicate figure seemed almost, inevitably, breakable. Her body trembled; her hands clenched; her lips loosened forming week little gasps that subconsciously began to fill my head with unmentionable ideas. With her head pressed against my chest, I wished only to press it deeper into my soul. Oh her vulnerability. The chilling sound of her quick, rhythmic breaths.
In... out... In... out...
I was breathing in her air, wrapping my tongue around her climactic anxiety. Her hands gently graced my hips, touching the small strip of skin between where my shirt ended and my pants began. 1

“Take it off,” my mind screamed. “Lift up your head, look in my eyes, and take it off.” 2

I felt my sanity shrinking as the back of her calf brushed against my thigh. The scintillating sensation of her worn and bony fingers teasing the nape of my neck and dancing through my tangled hair... It was enough to make me scream. 3

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, leaning into my ear. The thought tortured me. I knew. I knew what I wanted to do to her. 4

Kneading her jaded flesh with my hands I saw the frenzy in which we would undress, her tears dried and forgotten in or lust. (Tangled in the sheets. Up against the wall. Crying out. Screaming out.) She looked into my eyes for answers and I traded her desire. My gaze was toward her eyes, but my thoughts were on her lips, her hips, and the gaps respectively between them. She would not respect these thoughts.5

“Hit me,” I pleaded, as I evaded her tender looks. “Need me.”6

The two cravings were equal. Rolling to face me, I could barely endure her kindness. The heat of our bodies, the warmth of her now deep breaths…She was so controlled. I just wanted to control her. My hands glided through her hair in a feigned, motherly caress, followed by her pleasured sigh. HER sigh. That soft, angelic, wonderful sigh,resonating in a way that pulled my skull apart. And yet, i was forced to gather the resulting fragments and be contented with just the chance to hold her... So close. So close.7

I kissed the top of her head, dreaming that it was everywhere else. Her forehead. Her cheeks. Her chapped, paling lips. My hands moved up her sides and met her soft, voluptuous breasts, squeezing her womanly flesh, where my kisses would soon be planted. I blinked repeatedly to forget the fantasy, only to find myself unable to hide from her increasing closeness. So innocent. So genuinely tender. Pulling me in, moving her arms, her legs, her hands in confusion and hope for the purity of a friend. I would take her if she’d let me. All of her. Every inch. I would hungrily, happily, steal every miniscule touch of innocence within her, leaving her empty so I, myself could be full. Behind her dilated pupils laid a longstanding passion crying to be released. A passion that was not for me. And I would do ANYTHING to receive it.8