She laid bare and still as a black and white silhouette above the sheets, illuminated by the faint glow of street lamps that snuck in through the window, while the bold lines of her curves cut through the dark of night. Stunning, and stunned, she closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. In the aftermath of devouring each other, nothing was more desirable than to inhale the calmness of that moment, for as long as it could last; like a long drag on a cigarette, as it trickles into your lungs and expands every crevice of your being in brief, but sweet elation.
Having just barely steadied my own breathing, I ran my fingers through her hair and over her ear. She lifted her head, startled, but merely smiled and rested it back down on my chest. Perhaps this was her way of granting permission to continue, which I did without second guessing.
There wasn’t enough space in her Brooklyn studio apartment for love. But I loved something about her. About what we had, what we had shared. The unadulterated rawness, the complete absence of shyness, the blunt lust that dominated our consciousness for the better part of the last hour. Was it an hour? Was it two? Who knows. All I knew was that I didn’t care.
There was nothing in between the lines to read. No misguided understanding as to what the night was. Despite the heat between us, there was no deeper fire burning. Just two lovers drunk on each others passion. High on a good time; and it was a damn good time.
Over and over I let my fingers find their way through her hair. Occasionally I’d let them explore further, gliding down her back, only stopping to caress below her hips. Always slow. Always gentle. Always intentional.
But she had done something to me. How she moved her hips like they were dancing, how she whipped her hair like a strike of lightning, how her body fit like a jigsaw while pressed tight against mine. Wet in each others embrace, pulling deeper and deeper, louder and louder, and with the taste of her skin stained on my tongue; it was unlike anything I had before. It was an impression I couldn’t shake. As I kept stroking her hair, I felt rocked to my core. She was the first had ever met who matched my hunger, my desire. More than that, she knew what she was hungry for, and wasn’t afraid to take it. So she did. With no hesitation, she reached down into me and unlocked my cage, releasing an animal, just to play. It was almost as though she challenged me for who could own who; figuratively poised at the edge of the bed, only to extend and curl a single finger in small repeated circles towards herself, as if to say “come and get me”.
I hadn’t met anyone who can light an inferno so instantaneously. Her rawness made me want to be raw. Her lack of shyness made me disregard my own reservations. Her blunt lust mirrored in me. I tasted her just as I made her taste me. Two lovers free to give what they wanted, and take what they wanted in return. In a word, sex. Absolute, beautiful, sex.
I slowed my fingers, and eventually paused. Letting my hand rest on her shoulder, she smiled and lowered her eyes until they were shut. For another minute I simply sat quiet and gazed over her. In, and out. Her breath was steady, and warm against my chest. She remained there, laying bare and still as a black and white silhouette, while wearing the perfect shade of naked.
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