I think I'm going to jump up and down and do a little dance.
...because I'm so excited to have done 52 fantasy posts.
although, I'm pretty sure I have the count wrong, because I hit the one year anniversary a couple of weeks ago, and I've done more than one, some weeks.
raise your hand if you're SURE.
or if you care.
or if you want to lick my arm.
I sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on it, instead of body glitter.
it looks kind of funny, but it sure does taste good.
...if you pretend i didn't write that,
i'll pretend you didn't read it.
If there were wings folded under the skin on my back...
If they were just waiting for me to realize they were there...
It they would stretch out to their full size and flutter a little--
ready to be used, buzzing with energy.
Then I would smile as somewhere deep in its histroy, my brain would remember how to fly.
It would send signals through my body, and my arms and legs and head would all fall into position for smooth flight.
And I would feel as light as the air carrying me,
as I realized the power and freedom I possessed.
This country would look like a map below me--
there's the Grand Canyon, the peninsulas of Florida, and Cape Cod.
And I would notice how the air changes, over the ocean.
I would fly low, watching for whales and dolphins and sharks,
wondering for one silly moment if I could fly under water--and breathe.
Landing on the shore, I would fold my wings back in, before anyone noticed.
I would catch my breath, and run fingers through my hair.
And then I would walk until I found that chunk of myself that somehow ended up here...
that chunk of me that is lost and found at the same time, and is empty and full...
that little piece of my soul that is tucked away under the skin of another and harbored there,
safe and warm--cherished.
We danced that night, laughing and twirling—slow dances.
I was dressed much more casually than I would have if I had known I would meet him.
He was charming…
Should have been a tip-off.
His smile pulled me in, his hands were sure.
He acted the perfect gentleman.
My guy friends knew him—they were the stars of our basketball team, he was the star of his.
But that was 4 years before he was the star of his collegiate team.
Apparently there is no cap for ego growth, no max-out.
When I ran into him a few weeks later—
He was roommates with a guy I went to church with my whole life.
We exchanged sly smiles and clinked beer bottles,
He asked if I liked his friend.
I shrugged—don’t know him.
I did go home with him that night.
His room was small and crowded,
His bed big and rumpled.
We watched a movie…
Or at least the first part of one.
Those were “feast or famine” days, and it just felt good to be with someone,
Those first sparks of unsure kisses—not knowing yet how far it would go.
Sinking into the kiss, and feeling myself grow wet—
Rubbing against the hardness in his jeans,
Breathing growing ragged with impatience to clear all barriers.
The first, careful reaching up my shirt, his hand warm and sure.
Sending shivers up my spine, as his hand slid across my stomach,
And a gasp as he pushed up my little black bra and pressed his hand against my breast.
Kissing his neck, small bites.
The movie still playing in the background.
Pulling my own shirt off and reaching for his.
Letting him unhook the bra, then diving back together, growing wetter, growing harder—
Not enough skin on skin yet…
Our kisses led us down a spiraling path toward sweet relief from the pressure of desire.
I don’t remember how our pants came off but they did and then I was kneeling between his legs,
My long hair falling all over his thighs, creating a veil over my face as I slid my mouth around his thick cock.
He didn’t want to cum yet, so he stopped me after several long minutes of me making him moan.
He was a show-off…
He took me through more positions than I had seen yet in my limited experience—
He took my legs and put them on his shoulders,
And I almost giggled.
It was an awkward position, but…
He took me to the edge of orgasm and kept me there for so long I thought I might spontaneously combust…
And when I woke there in the chilly june morning,
I sighed and regretted it.
‘nother notch on the belt, and still no true love.