His Eyes

His eyes, catching just a glint of light, pause to take a measure of me, as his body raises expectantly above. There's a pause, so brief, so sweet and yet so powerful and rich; and in this moment his soul is aligning with mine, checking; testing that this is okay, that yes; we're about to do this and conveying the delicate gravity, the intimacy, the sharing, the joyous connection.


In a second, that moment - which stretched through infinity - has ended, but I will hold it within me until forever. In giving myself to him and taking of him I have been given more than that time of pleasure and experience and awakening, I have something to hold and take away and treasure within me.

His lips move down my neck, gently, but with enough intent to excite. His hands search my body which yields and arches to his touch.

I want to kiss and touch and taste and hold all of him within me. His hands are in my hair and I am breathless with the joy of it.

I'm surrendered, opened like a flower and accepting of his love. For that is what this is; the giving and receiving of love, the delicious interplay of physicality and emotions; the levels of touching and greeting and melding as one.

I want him more and more. I crave his touch, his tongue. To have his mouth on my shoulders; my thigh; my belly. I clutch at his shoulders and mark his back with my nails. Passion sweeps me away and my mind, my heart; my body are no longer within any sensible control. I have left earthly concerns behind and exist now only as a golden liquid poured, a gasp, a shuddering cry.

The intensity is unbearable. I cry out and his voice blends with mine and I no longer recognise what is me and what is him. Sweat moves between us, slick and sensuous, his body jerks and I know all reason has left his mind; he is but desire and action. Question and answer.

We writhe. I grip onto him tightly with my legs and move beneath him as our hearts beat a tattoo of pleasure.

His gasps, my sighs, our groans colour the air and slowly, slowly we calm back to the world, small kisses on the lips; my chin, his nose.

I won't let him go, my legs hold him fast, yet I am spent and must rest. I laugh gently, running my hands through his hair and gentle fingertips down his shoulder blades.

I feel complete, finished and satisfied, and knowing it springs tears to my eyes, because only in finally, finally knowing it, do I discover that I have never had this.

Violet