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Tiptoeing in the corners of your mind, lurking. Ever present, always watchful, waiting for a moment of weakness. Hunting, as though for prey. Seeking to find what lacks. Watching for it will do you no good, for just like a pot of boiling water, the more conscious you are of it, the further from your grasp it slips. Bittersweet and tantalizing, it seeks to wrap you in its’ embrace and hold on for good. It’s beautiful and tormenting, sly and brutally obvious. You want to deny it, to push it from your mind, but to try is to take all that is within you and deny it life.

I looked in his eyes and was, in an instant, both scared and provoked at once. They called to me, beseeching me to let go of the fears that held me, offering me a sanctuary. His arms, when closed about me, lulled me to peace. I was shown both heaven and hell in his embrace. Everything I had ever sought was right here. Here, in the arms and eyes and mind of a poet. His soul called to me, soothing all that had been by nothing more than sheer existance. ‘Can’t seem to stop touching you,’ he murmured, skimming his fingers over my skin. Silk and lace, satin and steel. And I thank the powers that be for this crisis, because his touch, the compulsion within him that drives his hands to my body again and again is my salvation. It seems there was no breath, no heart beat before his heat, nor would there be after.

I meet his gaze again and again, his brooding eyes startling in their clarity. And I tell him, ‘This can’t be. Won’t be.’ And he shudders. More fool are we. We blame the pull, the completeness, on desperation. Loneliness. The moon, the tide, anything. Anything at all. But not that. Happiness is something earned and to have anything greater than the knowledge of this man would be more than my life has been worth. But I see his eyes. I know his thoughts. I just pray he learns the fallacy. That, without pain, he learns that I have nothing to offer, nothing to give in return for the beauty he has shown me.

I feel his touch again, losing myself to what it brings. And I tell him, ‘It’s skin deep. Simple physical attraction.’ And he closes his eyes. The bind that ties us brings us together even while we deny that it’s there. Static electricity, circumstance. Again, loneliness. But not that. Then I feel his touch once again and I lose myself, drowning in his soul, always just beneath the surface, giving over all that I can, breaking my heart again, all just to feel his magic, his heart, one more time.

I dream of his possession, the freedom of belonging to this person. And I whisper to him, ‘You are all that I am not, all that I was lacking.’ And he smiles. Because what I lack, he contains. Where I am weak, he is not. A power for a weakness, a give for a take.

In his eyes, I see the truth. I know that there is doom and pain ahead, and still I inch my body toward his, aching for that poison. Aligning myself with him, tipping my head to look into his eyes, indeed his very soul, laying my hand on his chest, I know I’ve found home. I haven’t the right. I want to step back, to leave this man, this poet, for someone else to find, but I cannot. He is there, his heart beating steady against my hand, and I am not possessed of the power to let him go.

I feel the tears, building at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over. I turn away, frantically. He can’t see me this way, know the depth of my pain, my need. But he touches me and I am lashed by that touch, rendered powerless. So I stay. Pulling me, back to belly, he slips his arms around my waist, pulling me down to lie at his side. I have never felt so encompassed, so completely touched. His arms were only touching my waist, our bodies only touching slightly, but to hear my body, heart, and soul tell it, I was a part of this man. Every inch of what we were, joined. Encompassed, touched… loved. Even as I shook my head to deny the truth, he pressed his lips to my temple, feeling the beat of my heart. Damning me for a liar. And I let go. All the fears, all the realities, all the pain, the hurt, life. Wrapping myself around him, allowing myself to be with him. Simply, purely, completely with him. Finally. And in letting go, I found it. Everything I had feared and longed for. Sought and hid from. Right here in this man, this poet, the touch and breath that I had come to depend on.

Twining my arms around his neck, speaking without words, hoping he knew. Daring to hope he could read me as well as I had come to know him. And I saw his pain, his fears, my heart breaking. God, to make it all right. To be able to show this beautiful man nothing but pure love. Could I be so lucky? Dare I allow myself hope? While the world comes crashing down around me, I admit it. If to no one but myself, I admit it. I hear my mind whispering over and over, ‘I love you’. Did I say it aloud? Should I? Can I? I close my eyes, just let them drift shut as I lay my head on his chest. No, I dare not, should not. Will not. It is enough that I know. And for now, it is all I have. So I hold it tightly, repeating again and again to myself, ‘I love you’. Was there really life before I knew? ‘I love you,’ my mind whispers. Yes, it’s enough. And just before my mind slips into sleep, he pulls me closer, tangling the fingers of his hand in mine. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ my subconscious tickles though my soul. And as my mind, my body, surrenders itself to sleep, I feel him breathe into my hair, ‘I love you.’

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The men marvelled at the toilet and Licinia said a bit smugly, "We can leave this room now and you can test it out. All our guests do. Jón said this will keep us healthy because the germs will be carried away." The men didn't understand but we left the room and I closed the door on Julian. It took a while but we heard the water flow into the toilet again. My toilet tank was high up like the way the English had it at one time. The distance the water fell caused it to go fast and clean the...

Masturbation Marathon II

Part II When I'd caught my breath, and could move without ending it all, I held the watermelon firmly and began to slowly push myself deeper into the hole the broom handle had made for me. It was so warm! And tight, but really slick; I kept on pushing, easing in -- just as my furry mound pressed against its entrance, I felt the head of my dick barely touch the bottom of the hole ... perfect again! The only thing that could have been better would have been to have a big, carefully sculpted...

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Steamboat Willy Ch 03

Sally and I were still sound asleep in the morning when the phone rang. I reached over and picked it up. I answered, ‘Hello!’ ‘It’s me, Jeb, Mr. Murphy. Are we gonna work today?’ ‘Good morning Jeb. No we are not working this morning. Are you at home if I need you for something?’ ‘Yes Sir, I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.’ ‘Good, stay home until four and we will count it as a paid day even if we don’t call you, OK?’ ‘Yes Sir. I’ll be here if ya need me.’ I looked over at Sally, she was...

The Silent Game

"I'll see you later, baby," he tells me, "let's play this game again, soon, shall we?" he says, smirking, and kisses my forehead before making his way to my window and climbing out. The cold morning breeze licks at my naked body, cooling me down as the sweat and juices from our lovemaking dries. I sigh, content and satisfied as the tingles of pleasure still course through my body. My eyelids droop down and closes as sleep evades my world. **A few hours before** My ringing phone stirs me from my...

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Carol Helps

It was just another party at our next door neighbors house. The kind of party that floats from house to house in the neighborhood on any given weekend. This one was a little different though; a new couple had moved into the neighborhood and this party was a welcoming bash for them. He, his name was Sam, seemed like a nice enough guy and in talking to him I found out we both had an interest in old cars. He was restoring a 65' Mustang, and I was trying to figure out how best to turn a 29' Ford...

Homeschooling Shana

It was the summer after Toya’s freshman year of college, and it was only the third time she had come home since we had dropped her off last August. It was great to finally be home for more than a few days, she thought. She was attending a big university several hours away, and the only times she’d been able to visit us was for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now, though, she had the entire summer back home in Florida to work on her tan, relax, and spend time with her family. She had really missed...

A Dragons Slave Ch 01

My limbs crack and pop, the joints whimpering in protest as I stand from my crouched position. I force myself onto two legs, unfamiliar with the orientation. My inner ear crackles and pops in a sort of calibration, and I feel every disk in my spine sliding into place. I grimace at the sensation, not particularly enjoying it as everything finds it’s place. I open my eyes, and I’m relieved to see that my vision has not changed. I can still see the full spectrum of the world, as well as what...

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