Reluctantly, I opened my eyes this morning and seconds later I began to regret my decision.
This morning was different. I felt different.
I was yearning intimacy. I wanted to wake in the nude, wrapped in the nakedness of a man that I love. It made me wonder.
When will I feel the touch of a man who loves me?
I stayed under the covers and imagined the warmth of his flesh pressed against my back. He pulled back the coils of my curls and watched interestingly as they bounced back to their tightly shape.
I turned around to face him. As I looked into his eyes, I could see him devouring me with every blink.
Every night, he never hesitates to exploit me. He knows that I am a sexual and passionate creature. He knows that I look to him to satisfy my hunger.
As I squinted my eyes tighter, I could feel his hands grip the overlapping pouch of my stomach as the sticky heat of his breath kissed the back of my neck. As he held the imperfection of my body, he gently cupped the draping of my left breast.
He holds and squeezes me tightly. He reassures me that the body in which my soul is housed is his playground by never forgetting to move over every crater sculpted into my thighs.
I imagine his fingers inching across every hidden cave of my body and he knows the land of this place fairly well.
And even when the days seem longer than usual and the flame of our desire is dim, we’d still try igniting our fires before quickly falling to sleep.
I was seriously yearning intimacy.
I want to be desired. Wanted. Needed. Loved. Craved.
I want to be someone’s lasting pleasure.
I want to unleash the depths of my sexuality.
I want him to unleash me while he leashes me.
When will I be in the arms of a man that loves me?
Reluctantly, I had to open my eyes….