Paramour

December 7, 2008

She lays there, still trying to wake up from last night’s debauchery. I lay right behind her, spooning her curves with my arm extending outwards, curling up around her waist. I can feel her heartbeat as my face is pressed onto her back, just below her neck. Her smell is radiant and distinct and my nose takes every essence of her into my own. Her chocolate colored skin reflects glitter from the suns ray’s, now seeping in from the slivers of space between the red curtains framed on a large window. I feel lucky to be here in this moment.

She begins to awake and I swerve by body so that I’m sitting on top of her. Her eyes are covered by a pillow only revealing her lips. I kiss her good morning and she lifts her arms resting her hands on my hips. I am enamored by just her lips, I stare at them intently wondering how such lips were made. I imagine they were sculpted by artisans in the 18th century, carefully chiseling out it’s unique curve and shape. I kiss her again and this time she kisses me back in a deep embrace. A slip of her tongue enters my mouth just a tiny bit, but big enough to make my entire body tingle.

These are the kinds of mornings that I cherish, the ones that I am getting used to having. The late nights of holding one another, only to fall asleep in each others embrace. The closeness of two bodies merged as one. The coming together of two minds, both fundamentally different turning itself into like-minded intellectualism that is shared in the form of sweet succulent kisses. The mornings that always seem to end as quickly as it came.

The evenings that precede the mornings are quite different. The scratches, bruises, hair pulling and rough strap-on encounters top me with great ease. She knows how to control me, how to claim me in an exquisite moment of our role defined pleasure. The bottom and the submissive in me, surrenders inexplicably.

I see colors when we make love. When the roughness of our fucking slows down to incredible intimacy. When she slowly kisses my tender parts, I see flashes of white and purple. The pink colored walls turn neon, the Christmas lights strewn about become intensified. A rush of bright blue envelops her entire body and I am at ease. My body is now hers.

Night turns to dawn, and as the sunset comes up, we lay there, holding each other tightly. The morning comes, and we kiss again. We are exhausted, almost at the brink of passing out, but we still kiss. We kiss until our lips become dry and eventually sore. She moans as we kiss, she moans in ecstasy of having me at the perfect moment. As our lips finally draw away, we stare into each others eyes and she let’s open a sigh and speaks. Her words echo in my mind. Words that leave an impression. Words that leave a permanent mark on my psyche. She simply says “Good Night My Lover” and I simply reply “Good Night…My Sweet Paramour”…

Posted in Diary Of A Vaginally Obssessed Queer, Erotica, Queer Sex, Relationships