The cognitive dissonance of an anticlimactic breakup.

I caressed your hands as I used to while you'd drive me down the street when I noticed that none of your fingers reacted to mine. It was, suddenly, as if in between my touch and your skin there was an infinite void (maybe given by an electromagnetic field of atoms, once welcomingly reject·ful), that sucked my energy and turned it into ice before reaching you.

I knew it then, before any word came out of you or me. 

I breathed my pain and started talking.

- Have you decided to end us?

- That’s what you wanted to talk about…

- It crossed my mind.

You remained silent for a few seconds (each of them killed a bit of me). You finally added:

- It’s a lot of things.

It wasn’t a surprise for me. Of all the things you planned for yourself (with me), living the way you did while holding my hand was out of the box. In the end, it was me who always surprised you, and at most, your sentence now dashed the plan of the sweetest love I was going to make to you, on your couch, after kissing your complete nakedness.

I breathed my pain again and stopped caressing your void before adding:

- I know. And I knew that if I dared to ask you for it, there was a huge chance that our boundaries overlapped... and this would make us impossible.

As for everything I said from then on, each sound that came out of your mouth, when not silent, was a bridge for whatever else I added:

- Mm-hmm…

I continued my words and my flow of pain and bitterness, realising in that moment (and until today) that I could not remember the last time we kissed (...was it maybe in the shower, when I finally decided to trust your welcoming invitation, and I brought a shower gel so I wouldn't take advantage of your hospitality?). I did remember, though, the wise proverb I learned many years ago and that now came in handy: "El Silencio otorga."

- ...I have been truly sad for days, understanding your punishing silence as the answer to my question. 

- ...

(I was irrational and full of fears; 

maybe asking you was even a mistake. 

But I needed it. So much.)

- I cannot be sorry for standing on my ground, but I do apologise profoundly for the pain I could have caused you.

- ...

Your silence made me feel in control and also like a fool. 

Was I imagining that your muteness was the scission that would separate our paths, irreparably? 

- I thank you so much for the time we spent. It had been years since I felt something so right, even in the wrongs. My brain is full of new connections and the beautiful experiences that you gave me.

- ...

I got used to your quietness

while questioning everything inside my head. 

Was it all just there, in the end, only in my head? 

I remembered then the time you smiled while writing down my birthday on your phone. "It’s not necessary", I told you, visibly blushing. "It is", you replied, keeping your genuine, beautiful smile. 

No, it wasn't all only in my head.

But I'll never really know it.

Moments later we arrived at the point where our paths were as well, this time literally, separating. I wanted to hold the tears until you couldn't see me anymore (I know how much you hate tears). I swallowed the pain again, wrapped up my love and my five senses, my haikus and my expectations, and gave us both closure when I hugged you for the last time:

- Thank you so much for everything, Cutie Pie.

- Yeah, thank you for the great dances tonight.

You left and left me confused by your phrase, as if your breakup through my words had not taken place just a few minutes before.

Now alone (in more than one layer), I looked at the bag of birthday presents you gave me... The same one you asked me to check once no one was around.

There, among senses and thoughtfulness, 

was the camisole I forgot at your place 

the last time we cuddled.

I guess that was enough message for you to send,

man of few words and even fewer emotions;

my Marlboro man…

...you still have my shower gel though, 

my favourite thief.

Orgasmo (Parte I)

Me pediste que te describiera cómo se siente el orgasmo de una mujer mientras yacía a tu lado y acariciaba el vello de tu pecho. Parpadeé entonces rozando mis pestañas contra tus mejillas en un beso de mariposa, y juguetonamente te dije: Dámelo y te diré.

Sonríes, me miras a los ojos, acaricias suavemente mis hombros desnudos y besas mi cuello. Una repentina ola se apodera de mi piel al contacto con la tuya y estremece cada uno de mis poros. Cierro los ojos y te dejo actuar con tus labios y lengua. Ensortijo las yemas de mis dedos con tu cabello y tu nuca, y siento tu piel responder a mi tacto también con una oleada de placer.

Sigues explorándome mientras llegas delicadamente a mi pecho. Tus manos frías, con el más leve roce, acarician mis senos. Mis areolas y pezones se transforman y endurecen al tacto de tus dedos, y vuelven a mutar al contraste perfecto de tus labios cálidos y tu lengua húmeda. Suavemente, tu boca hace que mi piel ceda mientras mi columna reacciona formando un arco y mis caderas retroceden para ofrecerte aún más de mí.

Me provocas y te acercas a los costados de mi torso. Me acurruco y río… Un hombre más inseguro se preguntaría por qué, pero tú… tú me devuelves la sonrisa, me tomas de las muñecas y me callas con un beso antes de tomar el control de nuevo. Esta vez no me río, ni siquiera sonrío. Suspiro profundamente y acaricio tu cabello mientras sigues besándome el vientre al compás de mi respiración. No hace falta música; nuestro baile lo dictan nuestras respiraciones, los pulsos de nuestros corazones y las olas de placer de mi piel que no dejan de seguirte.

Me volteas boca abajo y acaricias los costados de mis caderas y glúteos. La temperatura de tus manos me hace hiperventilar de excitación mientras la ola de estremecimiento de mi piel vuelve a buscar el encuentro con tus dedos, como el Mar en la eterna e imposible persecución de la Luna. Besas la parte de atrás de mis piernas. En este punto, mi respiración se convierte en un ruego: Dame más.

Me giras de espaldas otra vez y sigues besando la parte interna de mis rodillas. Instintivamente, entreabro mis piernas mientras trato de contener el gemido que se apodera de mí desde el centro de mi cuerpo hasta mi voz. Tus manos siguen convocando la ola de placer que mi piel sigue tan desesperadamente. Me embriago en el desespero de sensaciones que tu toque me ofrece y gimo ante la inminencia de tu llegada.

Cubres mis muslos con tus besos al tiempo que te envuelvo con mis piernas y finalmente alcanzas mi centro, sin sorprenderte por toda la humedad que ya está esperando tu boca también húmeda. Te detienes a respirar de mí lenta y profundamente, y acaricias mi humedad con el aire que exhalas. Vuelves a respirar y a exhalar, como saboreándome antes de saborearme.

Mmmm...

Construyes por unos breves segundos (y para mi tortura) algo más de anticipación a través de tu respiración. Mi cuerpo completo se tensa en pausa mientras mi propia respiración se vuelve entrecortada. Gloriosamente y para mi profundo suspiro, unes la Luna, ahora eclipsada en la punta de tu lengua, con las olas de mi Mar.

Te quedas en mí y yo me rindo a tu boca. En movimientos circulares, tu lengua me cautiva mientras las olas se concentran y retienen en mi centro. Sujeto tu cabello e inicio un vaivén con mi pelvis, primero sutil y luego intenso, mientras tu lengua posee y controla todo mi ser.

Mientras van y vienen, las olas de placer cobran vida propia, arrastran mi pelvis hacia arriba desde mi centro, y elevan, suspenden y fusionan todos mis sentidos en uno solo. Durante tres, o diez segundos u horas, las olas de mi sentido unificado y tsunámico regresan a cada rincón de mi cuerpo; primero tímidamente, luego furiosamente, con frío, calor, suavidad, dureza, humedad, lentitud, amor, furia, calor, humedad… Y amor otra vez.

Desde mi centro hasta los dedos de mis pies, las yemas de los dedos de mis manos, mis pezones y cuero cabelludo, las olas golpean hasta que lentamente se desvanecen, y una brisa de paz regresa a mi boca en un beso de tus labios húmedos y llenos de mi Mar y tu Luna.

Respiro profundamente. Intento articular palabras, pero es demasiado pronto. Me miras con tus ojos indescriptiblemente hermosos y sonríes. 

No hacen falta palabras, ahora lo sabes.

Te devuelvo la sonrisa y me subo a ti mientras envuelvo tu cuello entre mis manos.

Ahora es tu turno.

Orgasm (Part I)

You asked me to describe to you how a woman's orgasm feels while I was lying next to you and stroking the hair on your naked chest. I then blinked my eyelashes against your cheeks in a butterfly kiss, and playfully told you: Give it to me and I'll tell you.

You smile, look into my eyes, softly caress my naked shoulders and kiss my neck. A sudden wave of goosebumps takes over my ears and the back of my head. I close my eyes and let you act with your lips and tongue. I intertwine my fingertips with your hair and the back of your neck, and I feel your skin getting the rush of pleasure from my touch. 

You keep exploring me while smoothly landing on my chest. Your cold hands, with the slightest touch, caress my breasts. Your fingers prepare my areolas and nipples and make them hard by the touch (covered by goosebumps that pursue you like a wave), just to offer them then the perfect contrast with your warm lips and your wet tongue. Softly, your mouth makes my skin give in while my spine reacts making an arc and my hips retreat back to offer you even more of me. 

You tease me and go to the sides of my torso. I curl up and laugh... A more insecure man would wonder why, but you... you smile back at me, take me by my wrists and shush me with a kiss before taking over again. This time I don't laugh, I don't even smile. I sigh deeply and caress your hair while you keep kissing me down my belly at the same pace as my breathing. There's no need for music; our dance is dictated by our breaths, the pulses of our hearts, and the waves of pleasure that keep going after you.

You turn me upside down and caress the sides of my hips and glutes. The temperature of your hands makes me hyperventilate in excitement while the wave of goosebumps just comes all the way after your fingers again, like the Sea in the eternal, impossible chase after the Moon. You kiss the back of my legs. At this point, my respiration turns into a beg... Give me more. 

You turn me on my back again and keep kissing the inner side of my knees. Instictively, I spread my legs, trying to hold back the moaning that is taking over, from the center of my body, all the way up to my voice. Your hands keep summoning the wave of pleasure that my skin so desperately follows. You give me exactly what I want: Cold, warm, soft, hard, wet, slow... and wet again. 

You reach my thighs with your kisses and I lift my back to see you and caress your head and hair, and wrap my legs around you. You get to my centre, not surprised by all the wetness that is already waiting for your wet mouth. Gloriously, you join the Moon, now eclipsed in the tip of your tongue, with the waves of my sea.

You stay there and I lie back down. In circular motions, your tongue captivates me as the waves concentrate and hold back in my very core. I hold your hair, and my pelvic floor starts a first slow, then a strong sway while I hold you tight.

While coming and going, the waves take on a life on their own, pull my pelvis up from there, and elevate, suspend, and blend all my senses into one. For three, or ten seconds or hours, the waves of my unified, tsunamic sense, come back to every corner of my body; first shyly, then furiously, with cold, warm, soft, hard, wet, slow, love, hate, warm, wet...

and love again.

From my centre to my toes, my fingertips, my nipples and my scalp, the waves hit until they slowly fade away, and a breeze of peace comes back to my mouth in a kiss from your Moonful, wet lips. 

I try to articulate some words but it's too soon. 

You look at me with your indescribably beautiful eyes and smile. 

No need for words, 

now you know.

I smile back and climb on top of you while wrapping your neck in my hands.

Your turn.

Desesperanza

Me sequé las lágrimas y los mocos en el hombro mientras seguía subiendo. Cerré los ojos al hacerlo, puesto que sabía que me ensuciaría aún más la cara con toda la mugre que tenía en cada centímetro del cuerpo. Me empujé hacia arriba con los pies heridos y las rodillas sangrantes, y con ese impulso, trepé el nivel que me quedaba.

Nublados mis ojos en lágrimas de nuevo, ponía mis pies en tierra firme al fin, tras lo que se había sentido como una vida entera en la oscuridad, la mierda y una luz tenue allá arriba, invitándome a mirar desde el manto de la claridad.

Fue a esa esperanza que me aferré para emprender los primeros pasos de mi viaje. El punto de inicio fue una oscuridad tan ensordecedora, que el ápice de luz que me guiaba parecía más bien una estrella solitaria en un abrumador firmamento de noche y soledad.

El sendero fue barroso y vertical, con algunas piedras aquí y allá que me sirvieron en el intento de avanzar. No hubo tregua en ningún momento: Cuando no estaba enfrentándome al extenuante viaje de subida, o bien me estaba limpiando las heridas, o bien sencillamente hiperventilaba el paralizante dolor que oprimía mi corazón como cadenas que me castigaban en cada respiro y en cada paso que daba, sólo por atreverme a decidir ir tras la luz.

Pero todo había valido la pena; mis pies estaban en tierra firme y yo, por fin, calmaba a través de cada doloroso respiro el asfixiante esfuerzo iniciado eones atrás.