Lust is my wholesome sin

Dettagli (10)
Mesmerized by the sight of some skin, enchanted by the curve of a neck, she fights to control her painful desire to touch and be touched. She struggles to repress the urge to reach out to those beautiful arms and feel their warmth wrapping around her. She dreams of burying her face in someone’s chest, breathing in their scent and losing herself in a strong possessive embrace.

So much tension runs through her veins while she scans the room for someone, anyone, she can lock her eyes with. She smiles to everyone who’s looking her way, the wider the more desperate. And laughs: loud and urgent call for attention. Her need is great although she secretly wonders if he who’s now flirting with her really wants her. Or is she just the next available woman in the room? The illusion of being chosen, selected among so many others, is what cradles her ego, boosts her confidence and briefly relieves her loneliness. Perpetually hungry for affection, this brief satisfaction excites her, this is why she enjoys playing the game of love.

When somebody finally takes her hand and whispers “I want to kiss you”, all lasting discipline melts away and she surrenders. Both hunter and hunted, she gives in to the dizzying feeling of belonging to someone. She got what she wanted and there’s no more exhilarating feeling than winning, but how long will it last? Like a drowning woman she holds on to her saviour so fiercely they will both go under.

Oh, the pleasure of another human body! Oh, the comfort of his closeness!

But cruel are the naughty looks and lustful touches. They tattoo the soul with feelings and memories, building the first chapter of a story that will never be written. They braid connections too delicate to hold, but sensitive enough to hurt.

First came the lover with the skin the colour of summer. An alternative look backed up by a passion for arts and technology, such a turn on! And an artist himself. He was always ready for her proposals or came up with his own suggestions. The activities they’ve done together made that summer unforgettable and so much more painful to overcome.

The hat made her turn to him. It reminded her of someone else she once wanted badly. Music was the second step, an enchantment she apparently can’t resist. He liked to show off his culture, and she liked to listen to new inspirations. He also taught her the beauty of a public reading. The unfounded idea that they shared some interests helped build a whole castle in her head. When it collapsed, it left shame and bitterness.

It wasn’t his body, although he is handsome and her eyes often linger on his figure. It was his job at first. And his attitude: an assured way of moving around and going about his tasks. Then she discovered his kindness. The way he kissed her the first time is forever branded in her memory: a rash, all-in kind of move. His shocking maturity sealed the deal and she forgot how frighteningly young he really is.

A fresh face with restless eyes and a sparkle that brings them alive. His tattoos obviously, and the all general feel of a squatter. A child of the city, an urban animal, a contemporary pirate with his contradictions and limitless passions. Sometimes ideals go far beyond reality and discovering the truth leaves you with the pleasures of the flesh and nothing more.

Regardless, she goes back to sex like a bug to the flame. Forgetting all the times she got burnt. Because even when it’s not that great, it feeds her need to feel alive. For a few days she feels drugged with happiness. Lightheaded because love pumps life into her veins. Her body feels attractive, lighter, healthier. And she goes out, a spring in her step, to show everyone her radiant joy.

Everything seems without importance tough possible. And life slows back down to a relaxed rhythm. Nothing can stress her, everything is bright and beautiful. Like singing or dancing, sex frees the spirit, the body and the mind. No shot of heroin could replace the bliss and explosive energy that follows an act of love.

She dreams wide eyed the moments gone by. Their soft skin, their muscles moving around her, their strength and warmth. Lips tracing the back of her spine, provoking her where she is most vulnerable. Her mouth biting playfully into some shoulders. Arms swiftly bringing her down to be possessed, taking control and moving her around as if she weighed nothing. Fingers stroking her skin, slowly moving from her nipples downwards, enjoying the delightful torture. A tongue teasing her sides before moving towards more sensitive spots. A rapturous position that inspired her to fantasize of more daring ones. Comments about her beauty or her experience that she rejected with an amused laugh. Her mind playing over and over scenes that make her smile a secret and private smile.

First time lovers end up sharing as many awkward moments as erotic ones, but if they are dealt with light hearted irony then an affinity grows between them and even though they might never bed again, they will remember with tenderness and complicity the pleasant time spent together.

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