when "in the blood" takes on new meaning...
i dream wicked things.
i remember only a small part of this dream. i had
spent most of my night's life being surreptitious.
i was trying to prove that this handsome, charming
man had killed a woman. i tried to convince others
of my beliefs. i looked for proof. i risked being
discovered, a thrill that did not go unnoticed.
i did not hide the fact that i harbored him ill will.
he returned my venomous glares with long, hungry looks
and seductive, sly grins. a confrontation was at hand.
he caught me in his office one night as i was searching
for... whatever it was i was searching for. he locked
the door behind him. he invited me to extend my holiday
(here i realized in my dream that this was a resort).
i refused flatly. he insisted, persisted, attempted
to persuade me to relax as he sidled closer. i soon
found myself at his hands trying to keep my breathing
under some control.
he drew me in and said,
"let see what we can do about
getting you to stay here for...
he kissed me fiercely. the moment degenerated quickly
into the explorations of hands and mouths, even as i knew
he was a dangerous man who probably intended to kill me.
our clothes slipped to floor, and he lifted me onto the
edge of his desk.
he slid slowly down my torso, breathing over my skin. he knelt
between my legs and wrapped his arms under my thighs. without
another word, sound, or moment's wait, his mouth was on
my warmest parts, and my moans grew from belly. the fire
burned from his tongue to my clit and up through every
nerve in my body. i felt a sharp sting as he took my flesh
between his teeth. more heat flooded my brain and body.
i felt more heat, more wetness... more than i thought
i should. more bites, more frenzy from him. my pleasure
was shadowed with fear. he lifted his head, and his mouth
was covered with my blood.
he moved quickly, suddenly covering my mouth with his own,
forcing my own blood onto my tongue. at the same time,
he entered me with a single thrust. he overwhelmed me.
i couldn't catch my breath, my pulse was out of control,
i burned from scalp to sole, and blood trickled own my throat.
he growled and slid his mouth along my jaw to my neck and
shoulder. i gasped and screamed. he murmured against my skin,
but i couldn't hear the words. his hips continued to rock
mine. i felt my heart rise in my throat. each moment brought
climax closer and closer, my strangled moans rising in pitch.
his lips vibrated on my skin with more urgings. the thunder
chased the fire rising from our connected heat. i could make
out, "take it... take it..." just as climax overcame us both...
and i sank my teeth into his neck.
with his laughter still surrounding me... i woke.
where fantasy and fear become one...
born of dreams and sweat, it grows...
this pussy is hungry
i feel its need
that which pulls deep inside
i feel its heat
that which soaks into my own flesh
a plea within becomes a growl
heaving, pulsing in urge
offerred the sensations of flesh
but not flesh
devouring all within reach
biting the hand that feeds
binging on idols and avatars
this pussy is hungry
carnivorous, starved of meat
yearning, deprived of nourishment
denied a proper meal
denied a taste
this pussy wants
this pussy craves
this pussy demands
this pussy hungers...
it grows, feeding on the passing moments and the blood of fantasy
the waking, the second part, the wash...
and i woke to a rush of heat flooding my body,
my skin suddenly drenched with hot sweat.
i blinked away quickly-fading dream imagery.
the sudden flame rushing my flesh frightened me
further awake; i felt the sweat bursting outward.
the nape of my neck, the inner bend of my elbow,
the back of my knee, down my spine.
i sat up, and it all rolled down my body. i pushed
my hair away from my face. i sighed deeply.
i made my way to the shower, pushed back the curtain,
and ran the water cool. i stepped in, drawing the
curtain back into place, and held my head under the
spray. the cool water flooded my hair and washed
over my scalp. the shower rinsed away the sweat
and heat... but not the dream. as the spray ran
across my neck and shoulders, an image flashed in my
head. rivulets ran down my back and over my thighs, and
i recalled the feel of the dream. a cool wash covered
my breasts... and i saw his face.
i remembered the dance, the music, the heat between our
bodies, the fabric pulling against my skin, his voice
against my neck, and the feeling of fullness from our sex.
i touched my neck and with my fingers, i followed the
water down across my breasts and firming nipples, down
across my belly, and down. my fingers slipped between my
legs and found my persistent heat, still tender with dream-
wakened nerves and my fervent pulse. i reached up and took
down the hand-held shower-head adjusting the spray to pulse.
with fingers on my free hand, i spread the flesh apart, and
with my other hand, i directed the pulse of water on my
exposed, engorged clitoris. the shock of electricity shot
up my spine, seizing my shoulders and neck. as my heartbeat
accelerated, i shut my eyes and found myself back on the
balcony of my dream. my thighs tensed, and i saw myself
pulling his body against mine. the pulsing spray of water
massaged nerves between my fingertips, and felt the rush
of the dream-orgasm. my hips tilted, and my shoulders pulled
inward. again, i felt the flesh of my dream-lover pressed
into mine and his body bucking against my own climax. again,
i felt a fireball form in my belly, shooting upwards along
my veins into my skull and exploding downward, muscles
contracting and spasming as the orgasm took my whole body.
i cried out from deep within as my dream climaxed at my hands.
i steadied myself against the wall of the shower and replaced
the shower-head. i breathed deeply and let the spray wash
over my flesh again. i breathed deeply and closed my eyes.
i breathed deeply.
my dreams and my waking life sometimes
result in similar physical... reactions.
the slumber, the first part, the dance...
i was aware i was dreaming. i knew what was going on, following the dream logic.
the dream converged at a dance, everyone dancing, celebrating being.
i... i was... i had power. we all had power. we were using our power
while dancing. i engaged myself with an athletic blond who blushed
at my familiar touch, my legs below my skirt-hem brushing his.
i explained my power... "i'm honeymoon love." i was that power created
between a couple physically celebrating their union. the youth smiled
and perspired as we were cheered on by other dancers through to the end
of the song. i kissed his cheek and stepped away as i heard the next
song begin... a ballad, one that struck me to my core. i stopped at a
column, half hiding, half peering around the corner at the singer. my
breath caught, my heart paused in its rhythm. hands slipped over mine,
and i spun quickly around, finding myself in the arms of a handsome man.
he swept me into step. he guided me around the edge of the dancing
crowd, turning in slightly, spiraling into the center of the throng.
dancers parted and stepped back, making an audience for us. our eyes
never glanced away from each other's gaze. as the last notes of the song
echoed around the hall, he drew up his hand, tilted up my chin, and
pressed his lips to mine. i trembled in his arms. as he raised hs lips
from mine and our eyes opened softly, he whispered,
"i'm perfect romance." i smiled. he smiled. he was the power of the
most perfect idyll created between two people. i turned my head to
the singer and winked. a new song started... a sexy, smoldering song.
i danced for him, with him, on him. our hands drifted across our bodies.
my back arched. i hooked my leg around his. he caught me at my waist
as i leaned waaaaay back as the song ended. we were rewarded with
cheering and applause. he pulled me upright slowly, tracing his lips
up through my cleavage then my neck. we resigned the dance floor to
the other dancers and walked together to the balcony.
i slid along the wrought-iron railing to the corner and turned to face
him. he placed his hands on either side of me. "i would like very much
to make love to you," he said. "i can't say i'm surprised," i replied.
he added, "right now." i blinked and curled a smile off a corner of my lips.
he lowered his hands to my hips as he leaned into me, kissing me deeply.
he lifted me, and i wrapped my legs around his hips. he reached between
us, our kiss breaking off, our eyes meeting and locking, and he unfastened
his trousers. with his tumescence in hand, he pushed aside my panties
and pressed in. i swallowed a gasp and pulled him toward me with my legs.
i grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and supported myself with
the other on the wrought-iron at my back. he kept one hand on my hip
and also grabbed the railing behind me. i inhaled and exhaled with
each slow, deep push within me. i could see his jaw clenched and feel
the heat coming from him clashing with my own. i pulled his head
forward and kissed his lips with short, quick impact. "you do realize,"
i whispered, "that what you're really doing... is fucking me... right?"
i muffled his answer with an intense kiss. dancers and partyers milled
in and out from the balcony, paying us no mind. our pace quickened.
our breaths quickened. we strained to supress our moans. i felt the
electricity travel from the base of my skull, down my spine and into
our connection. he must have felt something as powerful, as we both
pulled harder against each other. i pulled myself up to his face.
we kissed, and the kiss smothered our cries of extreme pleasure.
we took a long moment to catch our breaths. he reached down to readjust
himself. i let gravity slide me from his body. we both held fast
to the railing until we regained the strength to stand on our own...
and i woke to a rush of heat flooding my body,
my skin suddenly drenched with hot sweat.
i find myself at times whispering your name to no one...
i had a dream about you.
there was a house, a mansion. many tastefully appointed rooms, and all the rooms were filled with people. many attractive people. all on your invitation.
this was a party. your party. you wanted to host a party, and, as you told me in my handwritten invitation written in gold ink on ivory parchment, you wanted this party to also serve as my birthday celebration. what you wanted and what i wanted and what together we could have... an orgy.
also at the top of the guest list were many of your lady friends, exquisitely accommodating. they were soft of word, charming of smile and gentle of touch. there were several young men, giving of compliments and of their bodies. many hands, fingertips, gliding along so much flesh like warm silk. energies shifting from room to room to room to room.
up stairs around corners through rooms down stairs across tiles over couches and beds and rugs
i kissed many lips and necks, traced my tongue up the insides of many thighs. i felt many, many hands through my hair and down to my feet and alllll overrrrr...
everyone was in a relaxed and jovial mood. the unspoken expectation was that the party wouldn't be declared a success until the first orgasm, yet no one was really trying to push anyone over the edge. endless torturous pleasure raising the craving and feeding the need until
the currents of bodies pushed us randomly, separately into the same room. you, me, a few young ladies of varying... talents. our bodies flush with the flow of blood, our exhalations almost steam from our lips. you, urged down onto a chair. i was escorted astride you. encouraging hands and purring voices, my arching back, your bucking hips, more and more, more, more and more, with your shuddering gasp of release and my scream of ultimate pleasure rippling through our approving audience.
the rest of the evening continued as before, with guests eventually leaving. it was you and me and a young lady lazing in bed watching a movie on television, our bodies intertwined when we finally fell asleep.
i find myself at times listening... for a whisper
open eyes, open palms...
like boiling inside,
like a sun's radiation burning inside,
like every fiber of every muscle
contracting and flexing repeatedly,
like heartbreak, heartache, heartsick, all at once...
he makes me feel... everything.
he makes me want... everything.
he makes me.
but he awakens my sadism.
he makes my muscles growl.
he fuels my desire to beat him, bruise him, bleed him...
yet "he" soothes me, quiets my soul,
breathes for me, orchestrates my dreams,
and quenches my thirst... for "him".
and he draws me in,
inside what he seems to be,
inside what he is,
i crave his look.
i crave his flesh.
i crave "his" center.
i crave his world.
ah, but these men are only fiction.
existing in one time, another place.
when my hunger and want take me,
i draw back the curtain on my fantasies.
lips parted, legs parted...
breathe deeply. inhale. inspire.
i'm drowning in my lust.
the dreams come to me, night after night.
i writhe. the sheets slide over my flesh.
my body is flush with heat.
when i wake, my vision is hazy with fantasy,
crushed, bitten and bruised, sighing and gasping,
the showers, the belts, giggling, screaming...
i am in thrall to my own desire.
breathing is so... hard.
if i could only remember how...
i woke this morning with a splitting headache,
and my eyes felt like they had been bleached.
i yawned and felt a pull at my lower lip.
i touched my tongue to what felt like a puncture, a bite.
but did i bite the inside of my lower lip? or did someone else?
i rolled out of bed, dropping my feet to the floor. a sting traveled
across the heel of my right foot. i turned my foot up to find a bandage,
and underneath the bandage, a cut, cleaned and oily with ointment. that's
going to make getting around today a joy. i replaced the bandage and
made my way on the balls of my feet. my hair was sticky and matted,
and i smelled of whiskey, cola, and ash.
i slid my hand up the wall to turn on the light, revealing a shadowy bruise
across the back of my left hand; a thin scratch paralleled it.
my mind was an engine trying to catch ignition. my mind's eye framed
murky moments with no content. i could hear the echo of laughter, shrieks,
cries, crashes, splashes, and thuds. i recalled the taste of someone...
as i caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, i groaned. i looked like
an old copy that's been reproduced until the toner smudged and faded,
save for the pink yet bloodless scratch following the curve of my left
breast. i looked down and wondered again, "but did i do that? or
someone else?" i sighed at my inability to fix a memory. i ran hot water
and started a shower to wash away what i couldn't remember. i felt...
about halfway up the inside of my right thigh... are those... teeth marks?
i can guess the "how", "why" really isn't of consequence, but "who"...
"who" is always either a delight or a disappointment. i hope i'm the former.
one full moon, one onyx sky, one degree of turning...
i see myself with my back arched, my head back,
my eyes almost closed, my flesh alive and on fire...
winter wakes up a part of me that feels.
it's as if i can taste the world around me through my skin.
i hear a chill wind ringing the bones of my spine.
my eyes are frozen desire.
when the air around me nips at my flesh, it serves to fuel
the warmer parts of me... my heat is warmer and wetter,
and my nerves dance under the phantom touch of spectral hands.
every caress softer, every sting sharper,
recorded for the moment's infinity on my body.
will you hear my whispered pleas?
warm words pressed into cool air, a wicked prayer,
meant not for heaven, but for you.
turning on my axis, turning inside outside inside, turning to face...
my vision blurs with the memory of fantasy, and now i can't see where i'm going...
i feel it like a drop of wine rolling over the curve of my lip,
hanging for a brief eternity, spilling onto my chin, sliding down,
and freefalling onto the curve of my breast, initally chilling,
then warming with the flesh. a tiny strip of skin wet with wine.
the grape's essence lingering on my bottom lip and the tip of
my tongue. i trace the path backwards with a fingertip, up from my
cleavage to my throat, my chin, my lip, to gift myself with the
taste of myself mixed with the distillation of desire...
the world is overlaid with the image of my dream.