Day 7-
When you first fall in love you see all the potential of the world in that woman's eyes. They are capable of anything. They can do no wrong. They can fly! Really and truly between you and me, just think about it, you'll never have to admit this to anyone else, but I'm right, and you know it. When you first fall in love, were the object of your affection to tell you that he or she can levitate into the sub-stratosphere, you would have to take a second or two's consideration on the matter, BEFORE laughing at them and of course kissing them for being "so silly". Who else in your life would you ever give that irrational consideration to? It's fresh unspoiled love that twists us to believe in the perfection of another human being, or in fact, the "more-than-perfection" of another human being.
It's impossible to sustain that perfection though, because it's not real. It's a hope, that's all. A fine one, a beautiful and inspiring one to be sure. I mean more great works of art and stanzas of flawless poetry have been penned, painted, sculpted etc under the spell of that perfect unspoiled illusion. I realize that today of course, but it took a long time and a very large heart break to learn that lesson. It gave me a new perspective on what love might really be though. Or well the deeper love that you don't just fall into but sort of sink into, one that is continually revitalized not by the re-emergence of another persons perfection but by the acceptance and desire for their im-perfection, the molding of your own jagged edges into their divots, and vice versa. I long for that now even though I know I'm not near ready to encounter the one who would love me so plainly, so perfectly, in the interim I consider myself quite lucky to remember Jennifer's naked body not three inches from my face, and I think that's where I left off.
Her caramel legs ended at that smooth silky triangle with two perfectly pink lips peeking out from the hood above. And just north of that spot where once her mother's love was fed directly into her tiny body, I kiss, as it is now framed in a permanent dark design befitting it's transformation from a place of nourishment to a place of my very adult fixation. I could stare at that stomach for hours, but would be denying myself the taste of a fruit I've just worked too hard to peel. And to taste her I could no longer wait.
Bracing the small of her back with my hands I pressed my face to her stomach and opened my jaw as far as I could in a ceremonial gesture playing at devouring her. My teeth met her flesh and closed smoothly combing the thin transparent fur that lines the bodies of all beautiful creatures. She tasted of caramel, not the cheap crap you get in candy bars nowadays, but the salty savory almost butterscotch kind, the kind you'd eat by choice not default. Yes that was Jennifer the type of woman you'd taste by choice, not by default.
Her hands found their way from gripping the rounded cold edge of the sink to the heated roundness of the back of my head. She grabbed as best she could to pain me, but my barber it seems keeps my hair too short, nullifying any intention she had of puppeteering that day. Her frustration fed my amusement and I let her know as much with a glance. She huffed a large breath in and out and planted her two hands on the top of my head shoving me south and nearly cracking three of my vertebrae. I got the subtle hint, a girl wants what a girl wants. So still on my knees I reached one arm between her legs at the middle of her thigh to invite them to spread a bit and then followed with the second arm, my left.
She seemed a tad unsure at first, what was happening. Her balance was thrown a bit with her feet now nearly a yard from one another. I wouldn't let a lady remain in such a state for more than a second, this was a transitional moment one to be rescued from. One I would rescue her from, with a shoulder I crept closer and lifted her left leg to rest atop it, then with my other shoulder, the other leg, and then, yes then with the strength of my hands holding her tight to my face her legs wrapped just enough to allow my breath and her hands posted at her back to give her a better sense of balance I began to feast on the soft creamy center of my quarry. She cooed with satisfaction. Now, I know better than to use strength to sooth a beast, even a beast so seemingly powerless in form. She was hardly benign, she was a hellion, Venus and Vulcan in one. No soft and gentle are the strokes that sooth a hellcat. And so my tongue proceeded.
The haze that comes over me while I'm working on a piece returned, and again she came through with me, my fellow artist now, and my living canvas. That was twice she made it through with me, strange. No stranger than strange, only twice before had anyone come through and those well those are stories for another time. But still I had to wonder what the hell was happening here, could she bewas she? No I can't think on that now.
In a moment of serendipity I found that spot, that cherished 1 centimeter square of a woman's body that makes her wriggle, writhe and shake when you meet it just right, with the proper frequency, in time, on beat measure and intensely but not forcefully not violently, deliberatelyJust right.
She began to shutter, and I could feel her silken walls begin to quake, she leaned forward shrouding the top of my head with her stomach and breasts. In a moment of unintended strength I steeled my hold on her body, brought one foot forward, flat on the floor and stood in a fluid motion. Her neck crimped with the pressure as her head, then shoulders, then entire upper back met the inflexible ceiling. She made not a single sound in protest as we continued on in pursuit of a zenith we both knew was just moments, movements away. We were right.
I stood strong and tall, bracing as her body became rigid, forcing downward against me. I would not waiver. My "appointed round", that was all that mattered now. Not the stabbing pain of the towel rack in my shoulder or the failing strength of a warriors leg that had seen too many unsanctioned fights. Too close, too close indeed, the swell of her nectar entered my mouth like the pouring of warm honey, and I lavished in it. She came and came and came again in mouth with her back on the ceiling. And then the tension in her body melted away, her breathing slowed, and I lowered her, sliding her gently down my body in what seemed like half speed. The look in her eyes was other-worldly, not vacant, she was there, just hyper stimulated. I held her still, now like a child with her legs around my waist her arms across my neck and her head resting on my shoulder. I took her out of my washroom and over to the reclining chair where it had all begun and began to whisper nonsense to her in French the way women seem to like, well in my experience at least.
She smiled, and I was at a loss I returned her smile with a warm look, and as much of a grin as my strained lips could handle.
"Awe Baby" She said, "you're tired"
"ha ha hano angel, just in the moment, I guess" I responded
"Good because I'm not done with you yet"
And she wasn't this ....might be ..... love?
When you first fall in love you see all the potential of the world in that woman's eyes. They are capable of anything. They can do no wrong. They can fly! Really and truly between you and me, just think about it, you'll never have to admit this to anyone else, but I'm right, and you know it. When you first fall in love, were the object of your affection to tell you that he or she can levitate into the sub-stratosphere, you would have to take a second or two's consideration on the matter, BEFORE laughing at them and of course kissing them for being "so silly". Who else in your life would you ever give that irrational consideration to? It's fresh unspoiled love that twists us to believe in the perfection of another human being, or in fact, the "more-than-perfection" of another human being.
It's impossible to sustain that perfection though, because it's not real. It's a hope, that's all. A fine one, a beautiful and inspiring one to be sure. I mean more great works of art and stanzas of flawless poetry have been penned, painted, sculpted etc under the spell of that perfect unspoiled illusion. I realize that today of course, but it took a long time and a very large heart break to learn that lesson. It gave me a new perspective on what love might really be though. Or well the deeper love that you don't just fall into but sort of sink into, one that is continually revitalized not by the re-emergence of another persons perfection but by the acceptance and desire for their im-perfection, the molding of your own jagged edges into their divots, and vice versa. I long for that now even though I know I'm not near ready to encounter the one who would love me so plainly, so perfectly, in the interim I consider myself quite lucky to remember Jennifer's naked body not three inches from my face, and I think that's where I left off.
Her caramel legs ended at that smooth silky triangle with two perfectly pink lips peeking out from the hood above. And just north of that spot where once her mother's love was fed directly into her tiny body, I kiss, as it is now framed in a permanent dark design befitting it's transformation from a place of nourishment to a place of my very adult fixation. I could stare at that stomach for hours, but would be denying myself the taste of a fruit I've just worked too hard to peel. And to taste her I could no longer wait.
Bracing the small of her back with my hands I pressed my face to her stomach and opened my jaw as far as I could in a ceremonial gesture playing at devouring her. My teeth met her flesh and closed smoothly combing the thin transparent fur that lines the bodies of all beautiful creatures. She tasted of caramel, not the cheap crap you get in candy bars nowadays, but the salty savory almost butterscotch kind, the kind you'd eat by choice not default. Yes that was Jennifer the type of woman you'd taste by choice, not by default.
Her hands found their way from gripping the rounded cold edge of the sink to the heated roundness of the back of my head. She grabbed as best she could to pain me, but my barber it seems keeps my hair too short, nullifying any intention she had of puppeteering that day. Her frustration fed my amusement and I let her know as much with a glance. She huffed a large breath in and out and planted her two hands on the top of my head shoving me south and nearly cracking three of my vertebrae. I got the subtle hint, a girl wants what a girl wants. So still on my knees I reached one arm between her legs at the middle of her thigh to invite them to spread a bit and then followed with the second arm, my left.
She seemed a tad unsure at first, what was happening. Her balance was thrown a bit with her feet now nearly a yard from one another. I wouldn't let a lady remain in such a state for more than a second, this was a transitional moment one to be rescued from. One I would rescue her from, with a shoulder I crept closer and lifted her left leg to rest atop it, then with my other shoulder, the other leg, and then, yes then with the strength of my hands holding her tight to my face her legs wrapped just enough to allow my breath and her hands posted at her back to give her a better sense of balance I began to feast on the soft creamy center of my quarry. She cooed with satisfaction. Now, I know better than to use strength to sooth a beast, even a beast so seemingly powerless in form. She was hardly benign, she was a hellion, Venus and Vulcan in one. No soft and gentle are the strokes that sooth a hellcat. And so my tongue proceeded.
The haze that comes over me while I'm working on a piece returned, and again she came through with me, my fellow artist now, and my living canvas. That was twice she made it through with me, strange. No stranger than strange, only twice before had anyone come through and those well those are stories for another time. But still I had to wonder what the hell was happening here, could she bewas she? No I can't think on that now.
In a moment of serendipity I found that spot, that cherished 1 centimeter square of a woman's body that makes her wriggle, writhe and shake when you meet it just right, with the proper frequency, in time, on beat measure and intensely but not forcefully not violently, deliberatelyJust right.
She began to shutter, and I could feel her silken walls begin to quake, she leaned forward shrouding the top of my head with her stomach and breasts. In a moment of unintended strength I steeled my hold on her body, brought one foot forward, flat on the floor and stood in a fluid motion. Her neck crimped with the pressure as her head, then shoulders, then entire upper back met the inflexible ceiling. She made not a single sound in protest as we continued on in pursuit of a zenith we both knew was just moments, movements away. We were right.
I stood strong and tall, bracing as her body became rigid, forcing downward against me. I would not waiver. My "appointed round", that was all that mattered now. Not the stabbing pain of the towel rack in my shoulder or the failing strength of a warriors leg that had seen too many unsanctioned fights. Too close, too close indeed, the swell of her nectar entered my mouth like the pouring of warm honey, and I lavished in it. She came and came and came again in mouth with her back on the ceiling. And then the tension in her body melted away, her breathing slowed, and I lowered her, sliding her gently down my body in what seemed like half speed. The look in her eyes was other-worldly, not vacant, she was there, just hyper stimulated. I held her still, now like a child with her legs around my waist her arms across my neck and her head resting on my shoulder. I took her out of my washroom and over to the reclining chair where it had all begun and began to whisper nonsense to her in French the way women seem to like, well in my experience at least.
She smiled, and I was at a loss I returned her smile with a warm look, and as much of a grin as my strained lips could handle.
"Awe Baby" She said, "you're tired"
"ha ha hano angel, just in the moment, I guess" I responded
"Good because I'm not done with you yet"
And she wasn't this ....might be ..... love?
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