Anything helps

I need you as a distraction, be that from reality or my self-imposed hell. Give me something good to feel about and revel in. Grab my hand and twirl into me. Let me watch your dress spin as it tries to catch up with you. I want to admire something that enjoys being admired.

Be that tiny dancer in the sand and give me a pirate smile. Hold me closer. Don’t let go baby, I need this.

Make it all go away, even though I know it won’t be permanent. You might be able to mask it for a while though. I’ll take anything you’ve got, and at least I’m trying now. The static in the signal is giving me a momentary reprieve. Thank you, I needed this.

I could use…

A girls that crawls in bed next to me, says “aw baby that sucks,” after a bad day, then kisses me on the cheek while pulling the blanket over our heads to do things that would make the neighbours blush.

A constant interest

Circling back to you.  Over and over again I’ve been coming back to you.

I need to feed.  I’ve got a hunger and looking won’t satisfy it.  I need my hands and mouth to get involved.  Squeezing and pulling.  I want sounds and touch.  I need that shiver.

The jolt has got a hold of me.  The curiosity.  The pounding of my heart and the laser focus of my brain.  Nothing else is going to be good enough until I’m full of you.  Until I’m satiated.  Until I’m wasted with a drunken look on my face having indulged too much, yet not regretting a thing.

I’m inching closer to jumping in the pool.

I’ll have my eyes open.

There won’t be a smile on my face, but I will be licking my lips.

Let’s go.

When you have no thoughts for thinking

Let’s make this about a girl.

What better motivation is there than the kind of girl that takes over your mind and won’t let it go?  It wraps around her wrist and swings along with her walk, taking you for the ride as long as you can hold on.  Everything she does is noteworthy and you don’t have to strain to find magnificence in the way she bats her eyes or hums a tune.

She doesn’t need you to force it, either.  It’s natural.  It’s not something she tries to do or you try to do, it just happens.
It happens when you see her face for the first time in the morning.  It happens when you’re missing her at night.  It happens when her legs are wrapped around your waist and your lips are finding new ways to press against her skin.  There is nothing unnatural about the way you fit with the girl.  You’re a circle spinning on top of a circle.

You can dance.  You can sing.  You can do things you never thought you could before, and even if you can’t do them well you lose the fear of looking like a fool.
Why?
Because she doesn’t care.  All you need is her smile and when she points it at you all of the dumb things you’ve done are just there for laughter and dammit if he doesn’t have the best laugh around.

Let’s make her everything.
It’s dangerous and rarely ends well but while you’re in it, its worth it.
She’s worth it.

 

No titles, just words

You’re my Sunday morning.  I liken you to that lazy feeling of sliding out of bed when the house is still and all of the creaks from the night have settled.  You’re my cold feet on the floor in the summer.  You are the warmth of wool socks in the winter.  Everything that comforts me comes along the same substance of whatever created you.

Sunday should be the day where the world doesn’t exist.  I want to spend lifetimes with you in a single day and trade the weather and the seasons in each.  Every sunset finds another Sunday.  Every morning it is again as well.

You are my Sunday.
You are what I look forward to with every day that passes.
Spend some time with me on the cold floor.

A sweet kind of sickness

It’s sticky and we can’t resist it.  It’s sweet and we need another taste.  Some sicknesses you don’t recover from, they merely go dormant.  Then you have that craving crawl up your throat and through your fingers until you have to feed it.  It isn’t pretty, it’s an addiction.

I’ve been trapped in honey.  I’ve been swallowed by the night.
Cleaning memories from my mind is pointless.  The honey is too thick.  The night is too deep.  I can’t come back from that.

So we indulge ourselves.  We try to live for the better and say we’re over it.  The sickness doesn’t show any signs at all, until you taste the softest sweetness and want to be consumed.  Until you see the darkest nothing and want it too surround you.

I’ve got it at arm’s length.  It’s biting and gnashing its teeth.  I can feel it’s breath, heavy on my skin.  I want to let go.  I want to drown.  Tell me not to let go.  She’s not there.  Tell me she’s not there.

Drunken Poets Tell The Truth

“I favor eating your pussy to all others, dear Ruby,” the old man exclaimed in slurred words while leaning over papers at his desk.

“Charming,” replied the young woman from the bed a few feet away, “it’s amazing those words of yours aren’t published and plastered across newspapers far and wide.”

He sneered back at her, “same could be said of your cunt.”

She rolled over and put her back to him.  The sheet bunched up between her legs and balled against her chest.  She hugged it tight for comfort instead of warmth.  The raging fire in the furnace was enough to keep the entire street warm, yet he kept the window open all winter as well.

“I think better in between temperatures,” he would tell anyone who asked, and there were plenty.  He’d invite people up to his room to drink beyond closing hours of the bar he lived above.  There would be women as well, prostitutes, he would spend whatever money on he had that he didn’t imbibe.  There were no shortage of people in and out of his tiny apartment.

Tonight it was Ruby.  That wasn’t her real name but she hadn’t used her real name in so long that it may as well have been.  She had heard about the old man that lived above the bar and all of the stories that went along with him.  His eccentricities.  How he would rant and drink and give a girl whatever she wanted if she seemed interested.  His bluntness and the bit of mean streak that he carried, it was mostly words but he could look threatening if he wanted to.  Nobody ever claimed he harmed them though.

He also had money, which was the most important thing to a woman selling her body for sexual favors.  It really was the only thing that mattered.

The old man always paid and he usually paid more than the agreed upon amount.

“He’s a great tipper,” the other girls told Ruby when she got the call.

“He’ll fuck you, he’ll drink, he’ll rant and when he falls asleep you just take the money and slip out like nothing.  There’s no pleading for more time or trying to set up another date.  It’s a quick transaction and usually doesn’t even last the whole night.”

Read More »

The Physics of You

Good mornings were meant for pleasant people with pleasant things to say to each other on their way to their normal lives and their standard living arrangements. You’re more than a good morning. You’re more than pleasant. You’re a dirty deed not yet acted on.
Something creeping in the back of my mind not yet fully developed but far enough along that I know I want to do something to you. But what?

You’ve got your sly smile from behind your honey-kissed hair. You’re so fucking sweet too, that nectar that’s coating your lips is addictive. Sting me with them and cause my skin to welt from your nails dug in tight. Leave marks I’ll have to explain away much further in the future than I’ve ever thought about.

I’ve thought about waking you up with your hands pinned to the bed in a jolt. Your legs loosely on either side of me and I’m jostling your body up and down slowly. What does it feel like to wake up with someone between your legs and staring into your eyes? Tell me. I want to watch the words float from your lips as I stare in your smokey eyes.

Lets not waste a morning on good mornings. We should spend each one finding what curves of our bodies fit best against each other, and when they don’t fit we’ll crash ourselves into each under until they do. Bend me. Break me. Let me feel your fingers snaking around my neck to edge me further.

Push. Physics is simple, for ever action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I want to test every possible one.

I’m not saying good morning. I’m saying get up, lets have some fun.

Indecision

She liked him how she liked him.

There was a dial at the nape of his neck that she could turn to make him exactly as she wanted.  Twist it to the right and he’d be one way.  Twist it to the left and he’d be another.  Whatever she wanted she could make him and it was all at the end of her fingertips.

“How are you today, babe?”  He would smile a hello at her and her arms would wrap around his neck.  He never stopped smiling and it made her feel awkward.  Why was he always so happy?

She placed her fingers on the knob and turned it to the right a few clicks.  He kissed her lips and pulled back, looking in her eyes and staring.

“What?”  She asked, staring back as he looked into her.

“Usually when someone asks you how you are you answer,” he tilted his head just slightly and looked into her.

“Right,” she nodded and smiled and turned the knob to the left one click, “I’m fine.  I’m good.  Can’t really complain.”

“Mmhmm,” he smiled back at her.
“And if you could complain, what would those complaints be?”

“That your lips aren’t on mine enough,” she flashed a smirk back at him while leaning back and gazing in his eyes.

“Well you’re in luck.  I know a trick to rectify that complaint,” he smirked back at her before kissing her lips and indulging in the taste of her mouth.

It over threw her and was exactly what she needed.  So much so that she was greedy and wanted more.  Good for her that all she ever needed to do was ask.  After he pulled away and looked at her she would tap her lips with her finger and mouth the word, “more.”

The pull was strong and he attacked the next kiss with fervor.  He pushed her back.  She fell into the chair and he fell with her.  His hands were ripping at her clothes and she was taken by his lust and greed.  He wanted her and the mouthed word to him was enough to set him free to do with her what he wanted.  In turn she was taken just as she’d needed.  It was perfect.  Everyone was satisfied and she had him just as she wanted.

It wasn’t always so simple though.  Sometimes getting him just as she needed took more fine tuning.  The right and the left seemed sensitive to her movements.

“Hey babe,” he’d press up against her and attach his lips to her neck.

“Mmm, hi,” she’d respond and scratch her nails along his neck to feel the length of his scruff.

“What are you up to?”  He would inquire, followed by a kissed path to her ear and his lips tugging at the lobe.

“Mmmm, nothing.  Just relaxing,” she’d respond in his grasp and turn the knob to the right hoping to hit the perfect spot on the first try.  She wanted to tune in on his current mood and heighten it.  She wanted him to devour her.

His teeth would tighten on her sensitive skin and his voice would whisper in her ear, “if you’re just about done with that I’d like to tire you out for the rest of the day.”

She was greedy and pulled back to smirk in his face, turn the knob a few more to the right and tilt her head, “you sound so confident.”

She pursed her lips into an air kiss and shook her head to wave the dark locks around her.  The messy hair look was always his favorite and he never tried to hide it.  Her stare tore through him and she added another click to the right on the knob for good measure.

“Do I?”  Was his only response.

She looked back at him, her eyes peering in slits, “mmhmm,” was the only response she gave.

“Why do you think that is?”  He looked back.  His voice was even and his stare hard into hers.  She merely shook her head from side to side, jostling the hair about as well.

“You don’t think it’s because of you?  Because of my need and want of you.  The way you look every time I see you and the things I want to do to you.  The confidence comes from the part of me that wants to do things to you so badly that I know I’m going to be able to do them.  Nothing else will satisfy that taste.”

The words stayed even, as if he were reading a toppings list while ordering a pizza.  She loved it.  The stoic nature of his tone while the words show a boiling need just below the surface on the verge of being unleashed upon her.  She just needed to tease it out.  Another click to the right and a few words should do it.

“Then do something about it.”

He did.  He always did.  He made her body shake and shiver.  When she was done and her muscles ached she rolled to her side and tugged a thin sheet around her body, wrapping herself up and falling asleep.  She reached behind his neck, turned the knob to the right again and dropped her arm on his side.

He kissed the back of her head and lost his lips in her hair, whispering, “I’m having that again for breakfast.”
His arm draped over her and they passed out together.

She knew he missed her when they were away.  She knew he thought of her.  He made it a point to tell her all of the time.  There were times he would tell her that he didn’t want to tell her that he missed her because he had told her so much already.  She smiled and kissed his forehead and nodded, “I know.”

No matter where she left him she always had to adjust though.  Nothing ever stayed perfect enough that the knob was able to be left for any length of time.

When it was quiet and all she wanted to do was lay in bed in silence in his arms she would turn the knob to the left.  It was clicked far to the left and she would adjust from there and often it was enough within a try or two.
They would lay in each others arms and enjoy the sound of the house creaking or the outdoors going on as if life continued without their approval.  He would kiss her on the side of the head and she would make cooing sounds.  His fingers would travel over her body and she would close her eyes and let them traverse her plains.

When she got home from a frustrating day and all she wanted to do was find release her fingers would find the back of his neck and she would jerk the knob to the right and bite his lower lip.

“You know all you have to do is ask,” he would say after pulling away from her nibbling teeth.

“I don’t want to ask,” she turns the knob right again.

“If you don’t ask you never know what you’re going to get.”

Another jerk on the knob to the right, “I like surprises.”

He shook his head, “no you don’t.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think I do then,” she cranked the knob to the right now, rotating it a few revolutions.

“That’s where you’re wrong.  I know you exactly as much as I think I do,” he placed his hand delicate around the base of her neck and tightened with the slightest bit of pressure.

She stared at him, daring him to continue as her fingers traced around the knob again and again without moving it.

There was no smile on his face.  No expression aside from hard eyes looking into her face.  They didn’t move down to her lips or anywhere but stared deep into her pupils while his left hand moved to strip the lower half of her of any clothing above her knees.

“I know what you want and when you play coy.  Your coquettish smirks and stern stares to dare me into doing something.  The way you play with the back of my neck as you part your lips begging for a kiss while I strip your clothes off.  Telegraphing it all to me as if you were writing a blueprint on how to build the perfect way to fuck you.  You like surprises as long as they’re exactly what you want.  Now tell me, am I right?”

His teeth clenched and she could see them gritted together.  His eyes were piercing into her and the grip on her neck was tightened.  She bit her lip and nodded.  Her fingers went to the back of his neck and he squeezes a bit more at her.

“No.  Hands down.  You wanted a surprise, now you have it.”

She took it.  The surprise and everything that came with it.  She loved it and she hated it too.   The control he had and the way he moved her body.  The lust he poured over her and into her was electric.  It was exactly what she wanted and she hated that he knew it so perfectly.  It confused her too because it was so perfect.  He did everything imaginable that would make her euphoric and yet it was too familiar.

When he was laying next to her she moved her hand delicately up his back and turned the knob a full rotation to the left, then laid her head on his chest thinking.  She thought about what she wanted and if she even know what it was.  Whether she could have what she wanted and make it be exactly that or if knowing what she wants and getting it was taking away any type of pure experience.  Her mind wandered back and forth for a long time in the darkness.

Her fingers traded back and forth as well.  She turned him to the left and then back to the right.  She couldn’t figure out where to stop.  It continued all night and into the morning.  The clicking of the knob in both directions sounded louder as time wore on.  She couldn’t decide.  All she knew was that she liked him how she liked him and she never really knew which way that was.