And you seem to coat every bit of me. With your flesh and with your hands. You’re drenching me and drowning me so I gasp for breath. How quickly your hands have moved, like spiders. Coated in webs of passion, I’m now burning alive. In my soul and in my mind. Like we were made into a cocktail, shaken and stirred. I’m dizzy, d***k, and forgetful, as the vodka, but you being as the water, keep rhythm with your tides. You wash over my legs and navel. You tease my nipples with your mouth. Sucking and pulling them. You leave them damp and swollen. And I know in the morning there will be purples and reds on my body. Like the tides you will have roughly washed me and soften my skin. So I tug at you harder. I pull your hair and suck your tongue. My hands wonder to yours where I lace my fingers in tightly. And you stare at me then. You calm all in an instant. Like a fires slow burn turning out its last smoke. The water slows and lightly sloshes. The claws retract. We hear cars and the ticking. To date, there had been nothing in the way of real sex between us, not even in a Clintonesque way. That might be about to change, and I was afraid of how I might feel after I had taken her sexually. So far I had known only one woman in that manner, and the knowing had brought us so close together that we almost felt like one soul.What would happen after I had sex with my slave? Would I be in love with her in the same way that I loved my fiancée? Would feeling like that drive a wedge between my soul mate and me? In the back of my mind, another thought intruded... what would it be like to have sex with a different woman? I tried to brush that one aside, but the truth of the matter was that I did have some curiosity about the sex itself. I had only ever known one woman. I had only ever thought about sex with one woman. I had always thought that one woman would be enough, but had I been fooling myself for the sake of her feelings?By the end of the day I had twisted myself up with all of.
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