Tag: Fantasy

That Sokolow woman wears the lipstick and dress and shoes. She is obvious. She’s satisfied she has not revealed any fundamental truths but you will nonetheless make a series of decisions based upon them. You are a witness to your own chain reaction possessed by a false sense of doership, where own is the illusion perpetuated by the body that is actively participating in the creation of reality that you are experiencing, and the Sokolow woman is like this too. Like an imperfect real thing of a shared fantasy just like religious apocalypse. Winter rounds out a personality. The tropics make you top heavy like a faggy palm. How to separate sexual preference from fetish and what constitutes the difference? Here we are in the unnecessary intensity of female to female exchange, like women are the charged particles of a future event drawn to one another by a quantum song. She goes to work, she walks on high shoes and puts out her hand to stop from running into you in the hallway. She is warm-handed and leans on your shoulder with intentional gentleness. Her hair comes across her face and she brushes it away as she straightens and apologizes with a very sweet way of smiling. “It’s okay, here, can I help you?” You are very sweet yourself. You have been doing these things like precious stones, collecting. She leaves an opening and your eyes are less shy to one another’s each time. The silent goodbye is charged, the silence betrays the distraction at the center. You are at a party. You have had something to drink. You see her in the kitchen getting a drink. She looks at you with sharp familiarity composed into an innocuous smile. You are friendly to each other and she asks what you are drinking. You ask each other’s names because you realize you don’t know them. Hers is soft. She says your name immediately and asks to make the next drink. You laugh and are very calm, a walking rhythm that tames the observer. She is buzzing with your closeness and you let your hands touch when you take the glass from her. You can feel her energy flow into yours and make a burning vibration inside your brain and body. You feel in total possession of yourself in physical space because your body is inflamed with this thing. You pay attention and relax into oncoming waves. You are feminine to her and she is feminine back. You are making conversation that is unusually brief and comprehended. You try the drink and you like it. You are both wearing dresses. You are wearing boots and she is wearing high heels. You are leaning on the island next to each other looking out at the people in the uneven living room where there is music and a sexual bass throb. Your arms sometimes touch. You lean across the counter to reach a bottle of liquor. She doesn’t move out of the way. Her dress is low and her skin is hot when it presses your bare shoulder. You look over your shoulder at her and she is not smiling anymore. You inhale as you kiss. You kiss with sexual intensity. She is touching with abandoned purpose. You are held by the utter blending of your selves as you pull and are pulled and push your mouths into a new shared fantasy. You draw her into a bedroom bathroom and your desperate fucking is quiet and deafening, little whimpers muffled in each other’s necks. You are girls worshipping girl. You love the smell of her soft brown hair and the fact that she is a stranger to you. You feel her climax and are magnetized when you look in her wet eyes and there is still burning there. You look down at her dress and kiss her skin like a veil. You are trapped in this shitty scene reflecting on the hopelessness of identification with the body, the thought that eats itself. She is weak-kneed and puts a wet tongue on your neck and in your mouth and pulls at your hair in a particular way. You look and are looked at in the eyes without sentimentality. There is no attachment. You take her hand and lead her out to the loudest place and dance. She is dancing with the looseness of someone currently experiencing ecstasy. She puts hands all over you and herself and you are like twins untwisted. Allow sexual transportation. Starborn. Sunbourne. Evil Speaking. Like watching a movie so many times it becomes unfamiliar again.

You answer the door wearing nothing but a half buttoned blouse and that wicked smile. Your eyes light up at the sight of me then burn brighter as I pull you into my arms for one long, slow kiss. It isn't like you to do this, in fact you didn't think this part of you still existed. But when my arms close around you and push your back against the locked door your pulse begins to race. My hands touch you softly, stroking down your arms before circling around your wrists and gripping tight.

You gasp, your breathing coming faster as i pin you to the door and begin to bite along your throat. Questions you meant to ask slip your mind, the desire to know quickly replaced by a desire much darker.

You wanted to be taken and I am wasting no time.

Your breasts spill out of the loose blouse I made you wear, the sound of fabric tearing and buttons bouncing along the floor making your temper spike as your body flushes. One of my hands tightens on your wrists as the other slips down to cup your breast. The feel of my lips, my teeth, my tongue, they wash over the hardening flesh of your nipples as I make your body squirm. Then i kneel before you, my smile dark and hungry as I slide down the dark satin panties you wore and toss them carelessly aside. Read more »

This is a portion from my ebook "Dendrophilia Excitement," available at smashwords.com. I hope you enjoy it! Read more »