Pressure

I lie here deep atop the white down comforter on my bed tonight, staring listlessly at the ceiling fan turning lazily overhead, doing as poor a job of cooling this heated night air as I am of cooling the heated thoughts searing my head. One hand on my stomach, one hand behind my head. One more night alone.

I lie awake again tormented by thoughts of you. Memories of you. Memories of us. I feel hollowed out and under pressure. A storm brews inside me. It churns and rages and will not quiet. I ache for you. My heart is heavy against the back of chest. It beats slowly, fatigued under the weight of my desire for you. My hands tingle and feel empty. They feel incomplete. I can still feel you in them. They open and close, grasping for you but finding only air. They long for the heat of your skin. The weight of your breasts. The silk of your hair. The curve of your hips.

I lie awake and stare into my own head. Into your eyes. Eyes that aren’t staring back at me. God how I ache for you. And it’s an unhealthy consumption. A desire that’s consuming me as much as I want, as much as I need to consume you.

I remember the first time I saw your photograph. A vision. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And probably the most dangerous. I knew I couldn’t have you. But that only made me want you more. An angel. A fallen angel. And I fell with you, for you right at that instant. I had never wanted anyone or anything more in my life. You were my fantasy. You were my future.

I still remember when last we met. I remember all of it. Those visions haunt me repeatedly. I can still feel your body against mine, feel the thump of the music, grinding to the beat that felt like our own. I can still taste that secret, stolen, intoxicated kiss in the bedroom. Your tongue forced into my mouth. The taste of alcohol and lust on your lips. And I wanted you then. Right there against that wall. In that room. I didn’t care who might know. I didn’t care about him. I wanted you.

I needed you.

And later. When he was away. And I finally had you alone. It took everything I had not to leap upon you. Consume you right in the doorway with every kiss and every grope and every thrust of my hunger. I feared that this may smother the fire that I felt growing stronger and burning hotter between us. So I held back.

And later still. I lie awake and I can still feel you sitting in front of me. Leaning against me. My hands finally complete. On your thighs. Feeling the soft, luxurious curve of your hips. Tracing invisible lines and feeling the warmth of your belly. The heat invocative of the passion it holds. Bolder now. Moving up your sides. Fingertips gently grazing the swell of your breasts. And I can feel you respond to me now. I can feel you react. I can feel the blood rush through your skin. I can feel it move toward my fingers. I can hear the breath escape your lips. I can feel you arch just ever so slightly. Pushing yourself back against me.

I can still feel your hair grazing my cheek. I can still feel my lips grazing yours. Can you still feel my breath in your ear? My teeth, my lips, my tongue on your neck? Can you still feel what the scent and the taste of your skin did to me? Can you still feel my excitement?

Bolder still as my hands began to caress your breasts. Feeling the weight of them against your thin cotton t-shirt. Sliding slowly up over your bare stomach. Lightly. Almost sensing the tingle in your skin. Guiding them up and under your shirt. Fingertips ever so gently tracing tighter and tighter circles upon you. Feeling you respond. I can still hear the air catch in your lungs when I first touched you. I could feel your heart race. A gasp. A moan. Harder now. And you gasp again. Biting your lip. Closing your eyes.

One hand reaches for your cheek, turning you to me, and finally kissing you like I have wanted to kiss you. Our lips and our tongues entangled and exploring, our appetites only whetted by the taste of each other. A shirt is pulled off, shoes kicked to the floor. We are rolled over and rolling around. I’m on top of you now. I want all of you. I am for you.

All I am is for you right now.

(I think that's all of this story I'm gonna give you right now. I might be talked into posting an NC-17 edit. The Penthouse version of this story, well, you're gonna have to ask me personally for that. Don't be offended if I tell you 'no.')