Honesty Box

My first thoughts would be to back you into the darkest corner of the room, my hand gently pressed against your abdomen, leading you to what will soon become bliss. I would firmly press my body against yours, rippling muscles matched to soft curves, skin to skin, separated by only a thin layer of clothing. Then, I would put my hands on your hips, and slide my soft hands under your polo shirt. I’d glide them up the sides of your body, removing your shirt - the last obstacle between me and your beautiful brown skin. I would use my fingertips, and with the lightest touch, trace your finely chiseled chest, and bodies only inches apart, breathing rapidly in anticipation. I’d put my arms around you, pull you into me, and search your strong back with those same fingertips, and when my palm found the back of your neck, I’d pull your handsome face close to mine, eyes closed as if in a dream, and I’d let you enjoy the softness of my lips, gentle at first, but becoming fierce, as your tongue searches for it’s soulmate between my lips. And before we finished this dance of oral rhythm, I’d stop slowly, and allow my supple lips to brush across the side of your face, easing down to this spot on your neck that’s been haunting me for weeks. Not marked by x, I would suck gently, then firmly, then forcefully, leaving my own mark there, then tracing it in repetition with my tongue, as you moan with pleasure. It’s not odd for me to hear a man moan, it’s a reward, and I expect to grant you the same as you realize that I’ve taken control, and decide to turn the tables. A small giggle escapes me, nefarious in tone, when your strong, brown hands grab me by my thighs and hoist me up to your nature. I love the feel of your firmness, and I wrap my hands and arms tighter around your neck, both to steady myself and to be as close to you as humanly possible. We rumble. Forceful kisses, your grip of my thighs strengthens, I refuse to let you go. Still no x, you find the spot on my neck that makes me emit more than a small gasp. I push you against the wall, the pleasure too much for me, I grab at the wall with the palm of my hand flat, my fingers slowly drawing into each other while you make me understand who’s really in charge. But it’s not a struggle of power, it’s an expression of passion. It’s vast unseen cosmos and beautiful, untouched earth, it’s euphoria and comfort, strength and sensuality. It’s our first kiss.

Ok, now that you've read it...let me explain it. It's me in rare form, thinking about every detail of a beautiful moment. The gift and curse of being a writer, and like me, long-winded. Wrote this quite awhile ago, recently found it, so I thought I'd share. Don't judge me bro, lol.