Wednesday, 22 October 2008

• Whispered Memories

  I often miss the fire of lust. The baited breath, grasping hands, sweat, and the heated silence. Even now I can almost feel the lingering ache of a pair of hands caressing my skin in pursuit of my ragged breaths. My body remembers even though I can no longer indulge it.

  There hasn't been a reason for baited breath for some time now. I'm a pretty willing partner but when my partner isn't enjoying themselves, how am I to do the same? Don't I deserve the tingle of passion curving around my lower back?

  Goosebumps? Flushed skin? That warm glow that leaves you writhing on the bedsheets like a thoroughbred in a summer field? Can't I have that again?

  • 6:39 PM
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