Being with you is like a dream. Your touches are light and subtle. Most of the time I can barely feel them… if I open my eyes it’s as if you might disappear. Maybe this is why I often keep my eyes closed, or look away. When I close my eyes I can feel more deeply things that can’t be seen, like the weird energetic whirlpool that draws us closer together, or how close you are to coming. Ephemera dispel under the direct gaze of the sun.
One time I fell asleep on your chest, like many other times, but this time I woke up to you looking at me. I emerged from the cloud of a dream about the movie we had been watching earlier. I think I woke up because you turned off the Brazilian music that had been playing. Still groggy from sleep, my gaze meandered across your chest and stumbled into yours, shocking me awake with a jolt. You were looking right at me with a singularity that was terrifying. You had been watching me sleep and it seemed that you weren’t even aware that I was now looking at you.
You were kind of like a zombie, or someone under a spell. Part of your brain was off or rather a part that is usually off was now on and had taken over the rest. This part of your brain, whatever it was, had one objective and nothing else mattered. I think this is what terrified me, the drive I sensed behind your eyes. It was not quite human. I quickly looked away. I couldn’t bear to look at you. This happens a lot with you. It’s like I can’t bear the intensity, yet I crave it; my stillness draws it out of you.
I could feel your gaze bore into me as I remained frozen in place. I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t breathe. This was because of fear, not because I was ignorant of what you wanted me to do. You were trying to erode my resistance with your inhuman gaze. You didn’t speak… you didn’t need to. You ran your hand through my hair and grasped a fistful.
The phrase, “butterfly kisses,” comes to mind. This is what your kisses feel like, butterflies landing all over me. They feel so loving and innocent. They fill my heart with a golden glow. I dreamed of you soon after we met. I really had no impression of you and no idea that some day we would be close. In my dream you kissed me in this same odd way. I don’t know anyone else who kisses like this.
In this dream you ran towards me, hugging me. Your hug filled me with a golden glow. You said, “I love you!” And then gave me your butterfly kisses, spinning me around, still hugging me. I felt like I loved you in the dream and now I love you in reality. It’s so strange… If someone would have told me that one day I would love you I would have laughed. The dream has not exactly come to pass, however. You say you love me but you don’t yet mean it the way you did in the dream. I don’t know if you ever will. Maybe it is the workings of some cruel god who sent me this illusion. But to what end?
Last night, like on many other nights, I was relishing the feeling of being engulfed in the intoxicating whirlpool that forms whenever we’re within two feet of one another. I stretched my arms above my head and waited for you to touch my breasts. I could tell you wanted to. I could feel you looking at them. My eyes fluttered open to peer sideways at the unfolding scene and I glimpsed your hand moving through space, moving through a dream. Time stood still, like it did that night for Odysseus and Penelope, as your fingertips hovered above the object of your desire. You took my nipple into your mouth and licked it lightly. Everything you do is cautious and restrained. Controlled. Then you rubbed your face in between my breasts and I burst out laughing. Your sandpaper stubble tickled so much.
When you move your tongue over me it’s like a breeze over water; I can barely feel it. I think that happens when two things are almost the same temperature. Last night you were biting my neck, again so gently, and then started to suck. It was completely silent in the room. I was listening to the soft sounds your lips and tongue were making against my skin, listening to you breathe, and wondering at the fact that I could barely feel what you were doing. Again I was afraid to open my eyes lest I dispel the illusion. Then, like a tide coming in, I started to be filled with increasingly intense waves of sensation that swelled from the spot on my neck and spread throughout my whole body. Strange and wonderful.
It feels like an overly-ripe plum, your cock. It’s heavy in my hand and the skin is taut with blood. The skin could not be any thinner, or any warmer, or any smoother. It has a dewy quality even before it’s wet. When it's in my mouth there is again this strange thing where I can barely feel it. Your wet cock in my wet mouth is like silk moving over silk. The boundaries between us are blurred. It’s very intimate. In contrast there are the sharp sensations I feel from your clenched, urgent fist in my hair, or occasionally when your coarse pubic hair brushes against the top of my nose as you hold my head in a certain position. Last night you held me there for quite some time, my forehead pressed against your stomach. I just rested for however long it was, holding the spit in my mouth. Then I started moving my tongue slowly, back and forth, up and down, keeping my mouth where it was. You liked that. I started to move my head but you pushed it back down. You said, “don’t you dare stop now.”
While I’m sucking your cock you always hold one of my breasts in one hand and the reins of my hair in the other. You often play with my nipples, pinching them very hard when I least expect it. I say, “ow,” and you say nothing. I don’t feel the desire to pinch your nipples, but I do love running my fingers through your chest hair. You are very pale with light hair and eyes and when we went to the beach I was surprised to discover that you had a thick, dark mane of chest hair. It’s velvety soft and has an intoxicating smell. It betrays an animalistic side that you try to fastidiously control. I think I glimpsed it behind your gaze that one night. If so, I understand why you try to control it. I shudder to think of what it really wants to do. You seem at once tender and brutal, always shifting. I can’t see you clearly.
When you come in my mouth it's like I absorb all the energy that has been building up inside you. I start to shake and fling myself onto the bed in an overwhelmed, sighing heap. You thank me and tell me that you love me. I know you do.
Later you tell me about this girl you fancy and how you’re going to her concert to chat her up. You say what you always say, like an incantation, like if you repeat it enough I’ll believe it: you really value my friendship and don’t want to lose me. You really care about me.
I don’t know how to make sense of any of it. I am sad yet I accept that you don’t want to be more than friends, but also to me we already are more than friends. I love you and I love spending time with you. I try to go with the flow.
(Photo by: me)
