Orgasm (Part II)

I run my fingers slowly and subtly down your neck, breathing from your mouth and sipping my own honey from your lips. You offer me your neck as you wrap my waist in your embrace. Your breathing gradually deepens as my hands run down your chest in a caress that lingers at the edge of your hips and then rises again down your back to rest on your shoulders. You breathe in the scent of my neck, and my hands move again; this time, they caress the nape of your neck and return to your cheeks, your jaw, and your cleft chin.

I cover your eyes with my scarf and proceed to undress you. As if they were only caresses, I move down your arms to remove your open shirt while my tongue, playfully and insinuatingly, runs over your neck, your chest, your navel, and your lower abdomen. I feel your breathing intensify, and a warm bulge beneath your belt makes its way, throbbing, under your clothes. I untie your belt and remove your pants and underwear. I caress your sex with my fingertips and gently press your glans in circular motions with my thumb. I hear your first moan and I smile. This is just the beginning, I whisper, and I see your pearly teeth smile mischievously as you stroke my hair.

I lay your face down and sit on your back while I massage your head, the nape of your neck, your shoulders, your shoulder blades. The touch of your body begins to arouse me, and a warm wetness nests on your back. You smile again. Is everything okay? you ask. Yes, I answer. You know me by now. You relax again as I move down your back and knead your buttocks, thighs, calves, and feet. I kiss your toes, and you moan again, more intensely. You turn around. I continue kissing your feet while I watch transparent, viscous drops fall from your member, igniting my thirst. I resist the urge to go and taste you immediately; instead, I slowly move up your body, massaging you.

I finally land on your pelvis. My massages become caresses again but controlled by my nails. That subtle touch invades your entire hip area with a blanket of goosebumps. You spread your legs to give me space, amidst your laboured breathing. I rest the pad of my thumb on your perineum while the nails of my other hand caress your testicles, and finally, I wrap my fingers around your erection. I press and move my hand up the skin surrounding you. I relax the pressure and lower it again. I repeat the movement while my fingers moisten with the honey you release.

You instinctively bring your hand to your blindfold. You hesitate and finally keep them covered. You breathe with your mouth open, and the wetness of your tongue turns me on. I want to connect your wetness with mine, so I lick your glans and run my tongue over it. Your abdomen tenses, and you release all your breath in a deep, resounding gasp. You catch your breath in a ragged breath. You moan again. You stroke my hair, and with your hands, gently rhythmically indicating the pace you want me to follow.

I continue for a few moments until my own arousal interrupts me, and I moan. That's enough. You sit up and kiss me. Your hands move to my crotch, and you feel my wetness with your fingers. You position your member, and I take away your hand with mine. No, I smile, let me do it. You wrap your arms around my waist again, while I swing over you with my pelvis. Eventually, I catch you, and our wetness mingles as we become one.

Warm and soft, our bodies merge as I kiss your forehead and you kiss my breasts. You bite my nipples, and in response, I kiss your earlobes. I moan and sigh so close to your ear that you shudder, and another energy takes hold of you. You continue penetrating me when, between warmth and exquisite pain, my senses merge again. Your breathing becomes frantic and sonorous, and you penetrate me faster as you return to kissing and licking my nipples. My orgasm isn't over yet when yours begins. I tip you back and lie entirely on top of you as your semen conquers me and starts to flow from my vulva.

We both sigh. You remove the blindfold but keep your eyes closed. I contemplate your virile features, your broad forehead, your defined lips. I kiss you so lightly that my lips barely touch you. You smile and open your eyes. That was...

...Inspiring, I add. I curl up in the hollow made by your chest and arms, for my body.

Will we do it again? 

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.

Deal?

As the number of full moons that I’ll have the pleasure to see while holding your hand is limited;

as the number of fights that we have ahead might just be a bit more than the number of full moons;

as the times my index will “poup” the tip of your nose -and the fun, entertaining times in between- are falling into the countdown of an imminent end like a cracked hourglass…

I propose you to enjoy this ride with the safe,

temporary and total adrenaline that a roller coaster offers:

Imagine, just for a moment,

that I am your person

and not only a bridge;

Let me imagine that I’ll have the pleasure 

to keep exploring how it feels

when Love and Life meet.

Atomically speaking

Each of our atoms, organized together to allow literally everything in the universe to exist (and allow us to breathe and pulse), is a protonic/neutronic nucleus that manages such a powerful electromagnetic force that electrons faithfully orbit around it, without ever separating.

If, at any point, this fundamental nature changed and the force of atoms stopped pulling (and pushing) its content in the perfect balance it does, we (we, The Universe) would fade away, passing through each other into an unimaginable nothing. 

What makes this immensely powerful force so fascinating (besides the fact that we are at the fragile mercy of its nature) is that at an atomic level, there is no touching: Every time we (The Universe and its content) crash into something else, the reality is that the condensation of atoms from each part squeeze together without overlapping (nor touching) to keep their natural state as intact as possible, and reject the other one for the sake of each's own nature.

So, at an atomic level, our sense of touch is nothing but our electromagnetic field rejecting the forces of others.

And yet, at an atomic, molecular, cellular, sensory level, is the rejection of your electromagnetic field the one I yearn for. 

On the tip of my fingers;

at the bottom of my heart;

and somewhere between my eyes and my ears,

where nothing and everything blend to build up my world.

At an atomic level, my neurons reject each other by connecting new paths to understand the beauty of this new, meaning·full experience. 

What happens inside these paths though (where even my dreams seem to realistically recall your no-touch, from your lips to my nose) is a complete mystery.

There, I no longer know if the laws of physics 

play any game 

or if this new way of being happy 

melds cosmic and sacred energies together 

into a whole

and bloom from them.

(Does it matter? 

Definitely not)

While this finite timeframe allows us not to touch bodymindheart, I'll surrender to this infinite sweet, unforgettably en·joy·able rejection.

...And a new door in my heart will have your name on it.

Haiku of a love story.

I meet you at night,

your heart takes over the place,

you start existing.

I open a door,

softly, gently, you come in:

Slowly, I'm falling.

Shy at first touch,

you taste the coffee of my lips,

I taste your rum.

Back to the moonlight,

I now dream, no sense of sleep:

Sweet, sweat, hard, you dreams.

On the rails we kiss,

I hug you over two wheels,

you kiss me naked.

I fear my wounds; 

you heal every doubt away:

my heart takes over.

Take a bow

Hoy llueve. 

Conduzco por la carretera con especial cuidado mientras escucho una canción que me recuerda a ti.

La lluvia también me lleva a un recuerdo, uno que me despedía de ti con la sensación de que no te volvería a ver. También entonces, tras decirte adiós, conducía sobre una húmeda y resbaladiza carretera.

Escuchaba yo entonces, una y otra vez, "Take a bow", como si en su verso, "say goodbye" pudiera encontrar una pista que me ayudara a descifrar qué diablos había pasado tras el último beso que me diste.

Subí a mi auto en medio de la garúa (tal como lo hice hoy antes de subir), tras una noche de dulce, apasionado y triste amor, todo junto. Desnuda sobre la cama, te besaba y me acunaba en tus brazos mientras intentaba contener mis lágrimas. Finalmente, no pude.

Me miraste asustado pensando que algo había pasado.

La noticia de tu inminente partida había pasado. Y por alguna forma extraña de inocencia o ingenuidad (y aunque te conocí sabiendo que habría un adiós), no podía procesar que te fueras.

Sacudo el recuerdo de mi cabeza para mitigar mi piel erizada. No quiero ceder a la emoción. Pongo el aire caliente al tiempo que sigue sonando la canción.

Mis lágrimas fueron incontenibles y entendiste qué pasaba. Me dijiste "Esto es hermoso". No pude entender qué podía ser hermoso de la escena sino hasta que lo verbalizaste: "Me siento amado".

Mis oídos zumbaron. Yo aún no sabía. Lo sentía y latía dentro de mí, pero no tenía un nombre.

Ahora lo tenía. Era amor.

Te estaba amando. Pasó que, sin buscarlo, mi pecho florecia a tus rayos. Y a ti te parecía hermoso.

No dormí bien esa noche. Siempre que dormimos juntos, el contacto de nuestra piel era necesario y apacible, pero yo no podía sentir el calor de tu piel esa noche. Dolía de una forma que, tal como mi amor, tampoco lograba definir. Busqué mi propio espacio, mientras, y entre sueños, me buscabas y volvías a tocarme. Repetí el rito hasta que quedé al borde de la cama y tú abrazándome, siempre dormido. Me resigné y dejé que doliera, dejé que las lágrimas cayeran y  dejé que el sueño me alcanzara en medio de ese escenario. No era fácil, pero era la última vez que sentía también tu desnudez, así que cerré mis ojos y disfruté y sufrí de tu piel hasta que concilié el sueño.

...Días después, me confesaste que, en tu propio camino de regreso, lloraste también mi eventual ausencia.

Lo que yo no te confesé es que aquella mañana de lluvia, tal como ahora, los limpiaparabrisas de mi auto funcionaban perfectamente bien... y aun así fueron incapaces de detener mis lágrimas.