You wash waves of pleasure
over me
Your eyes immediately shot your
electricity into me.
Your mask bumped my hat,
A few words and chuckles
exchanged, a laugh, a glance, a dance or two, a kiss good-bye.
You once again find your
Queen in her birthday bellows of cascading pink ruffles and crown, I want to
grab you but I don’t, I just say “Welcome to my home!”
You breathe love into me
You, your everything is a
wave of ecstasy
Our first date we go to my yoga
teacher’s tantra class, and are forced to sit with one another and breathe a
mantra for twenty minutes and then rest, apart from one another in sivasana. He
never lets me go for this entire process. Instead of the yab-yum sit being a
painfully uncomfortable and boring practice; this process becomes an ecstatic
delight with him. We get high on each other’s breath and the mysterious energy
of Shakti begins to shoot up and down our spines as we become more and more
unraveled on the floor together. We are totally high.
We walk out into the beach
air, completely transfixed and transformed, high off of this subtle tantric
energy, which has filled our entire nervous system. He is just one big
adventure for me, and I’m along for the ride.
We have dinner, and he takes
me back to my car, and asks me, “Where do we go from here?” I’m playing coy, I
know I don’t want to separate from him, but I don’t want to go to his house
either. My heart drops at the thought of parting ways right now. We settle on my house, and I lead him there
up the 101 freeways from Downtown and we spend the night at my house.
He’s acting too forward; to
overly anxious to get in my pants, which is a turn-off. Men, when us women are
turning you down, it’s because we want the first time to be hot. REALLY
HOT! And if we know there’s a lot of potential
there and you’re not giving it all the way, then we are going to make you wait
until the chemistry is just right. I turn my back and fall asleep and make him
settle down and calm his adrenaline of trying to get in my pants. Well I didn’t
make him wait very long, because we hook up in the morning.
He hops on top of me, his
pale white skin painted on him like porcelain, adding to the backdrop of my
beige walls. He’s frisky. He wants my kitty, and he’s gonna get it. I fall into
the euphoric recollection of the account;
“Touch your pussy”, you whisper into my ear
As you work your tease play all over my body
“Touch Yourself!!!” You demand my pleasure
As your cock massages my thighs, but you don’t move
into me just yet
A spank or two, a touch with your thick fingers,
“Keep touching your pussy,”
You hop up to wrap your gift,
Then arrive back on my bed,
Put it in so fast I can’t breathe
You’re just playing with me, I know
A tackle and a wrestle
I command your hands inside my spot of grace,
“Keep Touching!” I keep my tips near my clit
You pulse so gently that just desire alone makes
Me scream and quiver in absolute delight of your light
Your incandescent essence fills every pore and cell,
every crevice of my
Soul is filled with you, like a DMT hit straight to my
heart
An injection of your truth, you, your bunny sauce.”
You stand up in your grandeur,
and in my eyes you fill the entire room with your tall and built figure, and
you are the only thing that exists in my world. You ask me if “I believe”, in your
Croatian accent. In some way you were asking me if I trusted you, if you can
trust me, if we’re starting something, if we’re going to continue fucking like
we are now. We used protection the first time, but somehow we progressed to not
using it a second time. I asked him if he was healthy, and he said yes, and I
told him I was healthy. But he actually said, “Do you believe?” And I wasn’t sure
what he meant, but it’s something much more than just not using a barrier, and
even deeper still he was asking me if I believed in us. I couldn’t object, and
I couldn’t stand the thought of having to stick the condom back on him.
So we went for it.
And we reaped the benefit of
our tantra practice earlier in on the week. He transformed into light.
We’ve been making
impressionistic love, for from afar and with wide brushstrokes, we fit together
into a masterpiece. It’s when you get close to the paint; you realize this
masterpiece is made of incongruent colors and patterns that appear to be
chaos. We’ve been falling into Monet’s
“Garden”, and diving into the Water’s Lilies, we’ve been taking little dips in
the watery passion of love.
*********************************
He visited me outside the
club that night, a fateful Thursday of audiovisual synesthesia mixed with his
pheromones created an otherworldly reality where everything else simply
dissolved away.
We meet on the dance floor
and I surprise him with my presence, as I spotted him first. I was on top of
the game here, and he was on the bottom.
We take a break from the
steam of the dance-floor and go outside to take a smoke and to be closer to one
another. Each kiss he delivers fills me
with silver light, like I am drinking him completely. He is now my drug, and he’s
giving me a fix. We make out, cuddle standing up and grab at each other. He holds
me firmly, not letting me escape his lust. I’m sure people around us are
looking, but we can’t help ourselves. We stand out here for at least a half an
hour, kissing, laughing, falling in love, and he has to go home to get some
rest, but he won’t leave me.
“Go back inside so I can go
home!” He demands, because he can’t peel himself off of me.
He pulls me in closer, and
finally delivers a passionate kiss good-bye. He only stopped by the club to see
my briefly, he’s getting ready for a big business day Friday.
We reluctantly part, the
passion and magnetism keeps the feeling lingering, his smell on my collar. I go
back in the club, filled with delight, but sad that he’s gone.
I get a drink and sit on the
couch, and feel into my heart. I have no other response but to write him a poem
in which I declare that I want to scream inside his ribcage, and follow the
echo of the sounds out to eternity. I want to ride that wave with him, the one
that touches the edge of the known and unknown. Resting inside his chest is
where I find the infinite capabilities inside myself.
He calls me on the phone
while I’m sitting at the club at 2am, and he’s half asleep and he sounds like
he is in drowsy tears, and tells me how beautiful that is, how happy I am
making him, he thanks me profusely. We hang up the phone.
And here comes the text : I love your soul :
And there it was, the first
time he ever said I love you, a week from our first date, and now he is just
waiting for me to say it back.
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