Compulsion

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Vague Wanderer

I can feel you, right above my skin, the warmth

of your need makes me shake a spearmint

breeze, that hollow ache is there, in the pit

of my stomach, waiting to be filled by you over

and over again. I close my eyes, darkness giving way

to images of you caressing me. The smell of your

skin, the taste of the sheets, my hands reach out, wishing

you were within reach. I feel the tightness release and

tighten again, wanting something to hold onto. Imagining

the moan you would make, brings my own, it’s been torture.

Images of things I haven’t yet seen plague me, raise my

curiosity like the arch I want you to put in my back. A

few touches have me scorched. Any time I remember

where your hands met skin, it sweats, burns even. I

feel it like a trail of hard earned sweat running

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Changes

Strong hands kneed the pain to the surface, weaker knees fight to stay straight, when all I want is to bend until my body is beneath yours. Your smile reassures me, or attempts to, the sweat trail starts with mixed thoughts of how hard those teeth bite. The chill that sways me like willow leaves hits a second time, almost keeping me trapped within the moment. I clench at the thought of your mouth on me. Clench more at the thought of my nails leaving their own trails across your shoulders and back. 

Feeling your hands trace my essence, gives me all the life I need. Basking in your light feeds the starved beast within me, gives me a moment to stop, throw my head back, and see the things around me. 

Breath

Feed me more, unwilling to let go, refusing to be satiated, I want it all. To be full off you, would be the end of a dream, not ready to let the fantasy go. I just want you to save me. 

Compulsion

I can feel you, right above my skin, the warmth

of your need makes me shake a spearmint

breeze, that hollow ache is there, in the pit

of my stomach, waiting to be filled by you over

and over again. I close my eyes, darkness giving way

to images of you caressing me. The smell of your

skin, the taste of the sheets, my hands reach out, wishing

you were within reach. I feel the tightness release and

tighten again, wanting something to hold onto. Imagining

the moan you would make, brings my own, it’s been torture.

Images of things I haven’t yet seen plague me, raise my

curiosity like the arch I want you to put in my back. A

few touches have me scorched. Any time I remember

where your hands met skin, it sweats, burns even. I

feel it like a trail of hard earned sweat running

between my breasts and into my navel. I feel it

like hands pressed against my hips to keep me

angled just right on the bed. My thighs

shake, remembering the sight of your

head between them, imagining the

feeling of what could have come

from those lips. My toes point

giving me more movement

to arch, to reach you, to

reach what I want to

feel; to release.

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