Blink; it is incredible how your entire life can change in the blink of an eye.
Every spare second of thought desperately seeks a seemingly impossible truth. Analyzing every word, every breath, every movement. Asking how this could happen, why this would happen, and the prized question; is this really happening?
The thing about life is, it pushes you until you break just to see if you can put yourself back together again. We take risks and gamble, we play with our own lives until we reach a delicate balance where everything hovers perfectly leaving us wondering how long we can hold it before we drop it.
We create our own hell, it is the sum of all our decisions – we are not sentenced, we condemn ourselves. Through this, we forget that as human beings we are always going to meet disturbances outside ourselves, it’s the experience of living, there will be dark days and there will be days of laughter and somewhere in between we will create a healthy balance within ourselves and call it a life. We can’t stop the storm, but we can learn to watch it pass. No person has ever held all the power. There must be a balance between chaos and order, dark and light.
As an artist, I have always created through the darkest part of myself, and where I thought that the light could not inspire me deeply, I was proven wrong.
In my search for a spark, I forgot the purpose of the light, only seeing the beauty of darkness.
I have now come to understand that the night is what allows us to see the stars. Darkness is nothing less than a thousand sunlights.
A coffee shop is the perfect place for a first date. It feels like a refuge, in this place I can make believe that I am in a caring society. At the tables are my imaginary friends in a transient community. We are born to need social bonds. We are born to need a sense of others, even if we are alone. It is terrible for the higher brain to know that we are solitary, that our life path has asked us to learn how to be the warrior instead of the cosseted, the protector and not the protected. Yet there is a need to fool the senses that this society is a safe place and we belong to a tribe.
I was nervous walking in, letting the bitter cold give me one last nudge before the door clanged behind me. I was anticipating another failed meeting, and in a last effort to settle myself, I sought comfort among the noises of people, their scent, their occasional glances and the chatter of the baristas, giving my primitive brain a little of what it craved, just enough to see me through.
Upon first glance, his face told of a lean body beneath his wintry garb and though his expression seemed serious, it was not unkind. His tight jaw was set in an angular shape sprinkled generously with salt and pepper stubbles. His thin rosy mouth was drawn into a hard line that parted briefly to greet me in a quiet tone. A pile of nerves rushed through me as my flight response kicked in and my pounding heart beat threatened to give away my cowardice. I could barely hear myself speak as I uttered my order to the barista.
As we sat down, I reflected my thoughts inside the warm cup nestled between my fingertips. Coffee is far more than a beverage. It is an invitation to life, disguised as a cup of warm liquid. It’s a trumpet wakeup call or a gentle rousing hand on your shoulder. Coffee is an experience, an offer, a rite of passage, a good excuse to get together and taking a deep breath I mustered all of my courage to open myself up to a dialogue that within a few short hours, would turn my life upside down. As I looked up from my cup and watched him remove his black framed glasses, I was able to discern the color of his eyes; cinnamon cream and flecks the same shade as the woodland path we now walk through on sunny days. They offered warmth and safety and in that moment I knew I found my home, my place to find company when the cold winds blew.
“Do you think you would be ok with a simple life, or even a simple vanilla sex life?”
A question I turned over in my mind for what seemed like an eternity, but came out of my mouth within seconds.
“Sure, I could. If I was to spend an eternity with the right person.” I smirked secretly to myself, if he thought vanilla was all he was capable of, he would surely be proven wrong. Most people, once exposed to a different path, quickly become aware that it was a part of them all along.
You can be sure I will take you to the red line, drag you with the thorns, unleash the monster buried deep in your mind. You can run but you can’t hide. Not from me.
As we continued our discourse and he challenged me with his intelligent inquisitions, I looked upon this man with great admiration. They say the eyes are windows; I could see through them. I could see his pain and his gentleness. See how every emotive expression of his face came together to form the art of his soul. It formed a picture I could see in an instant and comprehend with full depth. In his eyes was and forever remains his humanity, the person he truly is.
Over the course of our relationship I have witnessed the moments where he gets lost in his mind. When he wears his mask, when he becomes the man the world demands of him. Yet there is something in his spirit that dances when he allows himself a moment to let loose, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. As I have seen him thrive, in moments of great sadness I have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he is under the gun of guilt, shame and fear. I know that isn’t him, not the real version, the person I have come to love with everything that is myself.
Whenever our eyes lock over the breakfast table the soft expressions that began only a few months ago still burn ever stronger. He holds my gaze, looking deep within me as he always does, full of love and scientific curiosity. “I love you Stephanie.” He whispers. I crack a bratty joke by telling him I love him more. We both know it’s not a competition.
You are adequate, have courage, I love you.
The first time we shared a truly intimate moment was an evening before I had to travel for a business trip. I was uncertain what the distance would do for us. Would we be able to bridge the gap of separation upon my return. Do separated hearts truly grow fonder, or would he find another. What would I do regarding my current engagements? Questions filled my mind, leading me into a frenzy which I quickly sought to eradicate.
Our bodies hovered inches apart in the dim light of his living room and I closed what little distance was left between us, one hand sliding through his soft hair, the other gathering the back of his shirt into my fist. When my lips finally pressed against his, I felt something coil deep inside of me. My heart thundered in my chest. More, more, more—a steady beat. His body relaxed under my hands, shuddering at my touch. Breathing him in wasn’t enough, I wanted to inhale him as I mercilessly ripped his shirt away and sunk my teeth into his shoulder and then his neck. The world swayed dangerously under me as his lips in turn traveled to my cheek, to my jaw, to where my pulse throbbed in my neck. I was so wrapped up in him that I couldn’t imagine pulling back or letting go of his warm skin or that moment. His touch was feather-light, stroking my skin with a kind of reverence, but the instant his lips found mine again, a single thought was enough to rocket me out of the honey-sweet haze.
Very few people realize that sex is a mental and not a physical act. The clumsy coupling of human beings is simply a biological paraphrase of this truth – a primitive method of introducing minds to each other, engaging them. Most people are stuck in the physical aspect, unaware of the poetic rapport which it so clumsily tries to teach. Nobody can teach you who you are, I can describe parts of you, but who you are and what you need is something you will have to discover for yourself. I will teach you everything I know. I will open the doors to your mind and drag you to it’s darkest depths. I will show you what it means to be mine with nothing held back.
I will lead you until the point where you unconsciously start leading me. I will be your first and your last.
I could see my reflection through the mirror as I knelt before him. He towered over me, uncertain, his morale wavering. Reaching for his hand, I slipped his finger into my mouth and sucked while innocently looking up at him. My tongue drawing tiny circles, forcing myself to stay on task, to be a patient teacher while all I really wanted was his cock in my mouth. Unravelling him to this point had been a glorious feat. Like an onion, I kept discovering layer upon layer of new skin waiting to be explored. I couldn’t help but recall in that instant a previous exchange that made my pussy quench with desire.
I lay there surprised by my present situation, I hadn’t thought he had it in him. My face muffled in the bed sheets as I lay on my belly with both my arms spread and bound on either side of the bed by a crimson red rope. A surge of lightning erupted over my skin as I suddenly felt his fingers wrap around a section of my hair, slightly lifting my hot red face off the bed allowing me a breath of cool air as his other hand gently slipped around my throat. Pushing his lips into my ear he whispered “Whose the asshole now?” The resonance in his voice was so powerful that I thought I would come from the sheer sound of it.
“How does this make you feel?” I asked, he looked down at me unsure, I knew he was torn, one part of him screamed at him that treating a woman this way wasn’t morally correct. He viewed me as an equal, accepting me on my knees before him went against everything he knew. He would never want to debase me, but on the other hand, the new found sexual hunger that rippled inside him surged through him like a wild flame. I could see his erection pulsing through his pants with every flick of my tongue against his index finger. Slowly I pulled his pants down and let the tip of his cock kiss my lips, my tongue playfully exploring as I continued to look up at him.
“Do not censor yourself. Let go of that part of your brain and just be, and above all don’t forget, when you have control, you make the rules, so you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” His eyes grew darker then as my fingers wrapped around his balls and I slipped him all the way into my mouth. With eager force, his hand lowered and wrapped around the base of my throat as he began thrusting in and out. His other hand slipped to the top of my head grabbing a fistful of hair and suddenly I no longer had control. He had pulled me in and had made me the object of his pleasure and revelled, giving in without restraint or hesitation.
There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives. Large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. Those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. A sense of pride bloomed inside me as I watched the man I had so deeply fallen in love with take control of himself, and then take control of me.
I felt the ground bore into my knees as he buried himself into my mouth over and over again, the spit dripping from my lips added to the pool dripping from between my legs. I looked up at him submissive and ready to serve, but proud as any teacher could be. He gripped my hair harder before lifting me from the ground and tossing me to the bed. He gave my ass a hard slap before pulling me up to my knees and sinking his teeth into my shoulder, I screamed in blissful agony as his hand wrapped around me to play with my clit. My ass pushed into him, arching so he could continue playing with me as his teeth explored my back leaving a trail of crimson marks before turning me on my back.
I arched my body for him as his tongue moved teasingly within my folds. I looked down gazing at his beautiful golden head buried between my legs. His fingers fucked me slowly as his mouth devoured every inch of my pussy, taking me to the edge and back again with every stroke of my clit. I was utterly dripping and on the edge of climax, I didn’t know whether I wanted to burry his head deeper inside my little pussy, or beg him to fuck me until the last inch of my life.
Hanging on the edge of the precipice I found I could not resist asking one vital question, one that would take us back to the very beginning of this journey. “With what you have come to know, would you still be ok with a simple vanilla sex life?” His eyes peered up at me from between my legs as his tongue continued to taste me, I could feel myself dangerously on the edge of orgasm as I pulled on every inch of self control I had left waiting for his reply. Between licks, he quietly shook his head, and uttered the words I knew he would. “No, I couldn’t.” I let go then, feeling the slow hum of electricity undulate over my body from my toes all the way to the top of my head. I felt my insides clutch his fingers as he moved in and out of me. Reaching for his soft head of curls I pulled him in deeper, my legs resisting the need to crush him. Sucking in my breath I let the peek of my orgasm wash over me for what felt like a blissful eternity until finally the arch of my back floated back down into the soft mattress beneath me.
Within seconds he was straddling me, brushing his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth. “PLEASE,” I begged. “I need you inside of me, please fuck me!” He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and at last he buried himself in me with a mighty stroke. For a moment, I was nothing, no one. Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it would always be that way. Wrapping his hand around my throat, he pulled out a few inches, hovering, looking down into the very depth of me, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again. I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength. For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room. I frowned as he withdrew at last—but he didn’t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts as he smiled a smile that extended all the way to his eyes and deep into his soul. Nuzzling my ear, his quiet whispers echoed inside my heart, “I want you to know that even though our sex life is out of this world, it doesn’t compare to how I feel about you outside this bedroom.”
Games are wickedly fun to play, but it requires a profound amount of trust, trust that your partner has your best interest at hand. I had shared some of my deepest darkest and most regrettable secrets. His words echoed in my mind “This isn’t a romance. You’re not a damsel in distress and I’m not the handsome prince come to save you.” We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight. To him, I was perfect, in every single way.
Seduce my mind and you can have my body, find my soul and I am yours forever.
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