Journals By Janae?

A Night Of Mental Adoration Buried by Physical Passion (Part Two)

 And so we continued this play of caresses. You touch me in all the wrong places. Every inch of myself that wants to be touched, tasted, aches with yearning as you skim only the things you appreciate. Somewhere in my mind I know this is wrong but I again ignore that because that is not the reality I want to live right now.  Instead, I am pulling you in closer, dragging your body against mine, greedy for the time I have you in my arm.

I want you to understand that you are mine, and you are. Make no doubt of any kind that I will ever let you go this evening. Make no mistake that I’ll ever release your skin where it lies comfortably between my teeth. Not when you groan so sweetly. I just can’t give up the pleasure of feeling your pleasure against my tongue as your hands chaotically sing your desperation. I want you desperate. I need you wanting me in this way. I want to brand the flexing of your fingers on my ass. The sudden tightening of those once gentle caresses as I suck or lick a particular spot that drives you wild. I have to have that moment when I know you’ve had enough, then I have to push for more. Until the desire to give me what I am so passionately giving you burst through veins and suddenly its as if you believe I have made you feel good for too long and you need to reciprocate. Or maybe male dominance has finally hit your bloodstream because now you’re on me. You’re holding me and dominating me as I wanted and I can no longer focus on my earlier attentions. Without warning your palms meet my breast and all prior thoughts leave my mind. My nipples sting with excitement and my shallow breaths turn into moans that begins to transcend into whimpers because now I know I want your mouth on me. I need your lips, I need them to open wide as they release your tongue and more liquid gas to my already flaming body. I need them and I can’t keep my mind from screaming as your mouth opens wide and I cradle your head and my body bows as my back arches away but closer at the same time. Hands that are no longer my own grip your head straining to get you closer to me. Erratically, illogically, my hands begin to shake with the effort to try and not hurt you. I’m trying to keep from possessing you too roughly. Instead I choose to lovingly stroke the back of your neck, the side of your face, as my mind whispers something so loud my jaws clench with the effort to contain it.

“I love you”

But I know I can’t say that. This is not a passionate encounter between two lovesick teenagers. This is not the earnest attention of a love that just could not be contained. This is dirty need based services provided for convenience and I force myself to remember that. I need to understand that. So I pull my heart back. I attempt to cage those cursed words back to the far reaches of my mind. It doesn’t work and I only end up succeeding in not saying those words aloud. But my hands, my mouth, the very beginnings of my fingertips, they sing it and all the love explodes within myself, setting my heart aflame.