I can hear you speak, and me reply. Feel the tremble of your lips as you whisper to me, and sense the same vibration when I do the same back.
What are we saying? Where do our minds linger in this moment of embrace and intransigence?
I would tell you if I knew. Recite it for you, if I could make out the words offered. But I am too engrossed. Too intoxicated. Too lost in this moment…. This struggle…. This mutual bearhug with you.
The heat of it, both literal and figurative. The intensity of it, more than anything we have ever known. And though I cannot describe what we say to each other, as minutes pass and then pile behind us. From single digits to tens, then on and on. I can feel myself giving way. Giving in.
I can’t squeeze you anymore. Can’t keep my bearhug locked on you. And so, somewhere in the madness and chaos of this carnal, cathartic, and crushing hug, I find a way to squirm. To shift as my arms release you. Pulling our womanhoods apart, as strings of essence cling to and bridge between them. Uncrossing our legs, so I can try to climb.
To stand? To tackle? Again I am without answer, as before I reach zenith, you suddenly squeeze again. Hard. And in your arms and in your lap I collapse. My bare breasts framing your beautiful face, as I look down into your eyes.
Shivering as I let loose the most delicate little whimpers. My lips hovering just above yours. My mind finally clearing enough to process sound, speech, and sequence.
“Don’t let…. UUUhhhh, FUCK…. Don’t let go….” I beg you, as my legs drop to either side of your thighs. Leaving me at your mercy. In your grips, and just as I see a well of empathy in your eyes, I can do not else but peck your soft lips with my own. yt
