The Dreamer
9/29/16
The Dreamer
It was misty, steaming, as I walked towards the shower. Framed out of a mirage, out of focus. A longing, a desire, a place to be. My heart raced as I drew close. A yearning, a desire, a need, something that must be done. I drew the curtain and stepped forward, an arrival, a presentation, a start. Through the steam, the embrace, no resistance only acknowledgment and surrender. Clumsy unneeded words spoken by me with ulterior motives and empty convictions. The embrace at once everywhere, nerves like live wires firing at once. Heart pounding, long-awaited fantasy crashing down upon reality all at once. She was there, she was willing, this was right. Hands assured of possession. Eyes owning of the site. She is all, she is there. Time is lost, time is short, every moment lasts an eternity. Her breathing subtle, deafening, hypnotizing, hot. Her willingness maddening, enticing, welcoming. She is statuesque, she is beauty, she is the very essence of life. She is silent. I am petitioner in her court. She is the throne. She is Queen, excepting of my worship. Giving of her gifts. I embrace, I taste, I breathe in her scent. My head reels’, senses are on fire, in this moment I am hers and I am connected. My eternity lingers with her wrapped in my arms. The power of her submission burns me with desire long forgotten. The water around us is no more than a medium to cool the burning and I am condemned by her touch. Her softness, her moans, her movements, are fleeting. No sooner than one movement ends another one begins. They overlap I’m overwhelmed, I’m lost. I am bound by her silent power. Are her movements in time with mine? Are my movements controlled by her? I don’t know anymore. My body has its own agenda. It no longer waits for my mind to decide. It’s struggling for sensations of its very own. Rebellion rips mind, body, and soul. And she is the prize. I am a puppet and she pulls the strings. I am undone, the bonds complete, the mortgage tendered. She glides from the shower, ambivalent. Wordlessly she lays upon the bed. She asks no questions, she speaks no words. She looks, her eyes command and it’s at that moment I realize. She is the dreamer and I but her dream.
Playlist
Hallelujah~ Rufus Wainwright
Whip appeal ~Kurt Whalum
Someone to love ~Kurt Whalum
Anytime ~Kurt Whalum
Your secret love ~Kurt Whalum
I wish I wasn’t ~Kurt Whalum
My sensitivity ~Kurt Whalum
All I do ~Kurt Whalum
special recognition to the spirit that never lets me forget. Whether I have it or not in my life, love and desire are still alive in this world.
The Dreamer
It was misty, steaming, as I walked towards the shower. Framed out of a mirage, out of focus. A longing, a desire, a place to be. My heart raced as I drew close. A yearning, a desire, a need, something that must be done. I drew the curtain and stepped forward, an arrival, a presentation, a start. Through the steam, the embrace, no resistance only acknowledgment and surrender. Clumsy unneeded words spoken by me with ulterior motives and empty convictions. The embrace at once everywhere, nerves like live wires firing at once. Heart pounding, long-awaited fantasy crashing down upon reality all at once. She was there, she was willing, this was right. Hands assured of possession. Eyes owning of the site. She is all, she is there. Time is lost, time is short, every moment lasts an eternity. Her breathing subtle, deafening, hypnotizing, hot. Her willingness maddening, enticing, welcoming. She is statuesque, she is beauty, she is the very essence of life. She is silent. I am petitioner in her court. She is the throne. She is Queen, excepting of my worship. Giving of her gifts. I embrace, I taste, I breathe in her scent. My head reels’, senses are on fire, in this moment I am hers and I am connected. My eternity lingers with her wrapped in my arms. The power of her submission burns me with desire long forgotten. The water around us is no more than a medium to cool the burning and I am condemned by her touch. Her softness, her moans, her movements, are fleeting. No sooner than one movement ends another one begins. They overlap I’m overwhelmed, I’m lost. I am bound by her silent power. Are her movements in time with mine? Are my movements controlled by her? I don’t know anymore. My body has its own agenda. It no longer waits for my mind to decide. It’s struggling for sensations of its very own. Rebellion rips mind, body, and soul. And she is the prize. I am a puppet and she pulls the strings. I am undone, the bonds complete, the mortgage tendered. She glides from the shower, ambivalent. Wordlessly she lays upon the bed. She asks no questions, she speaks no words. She looks, her eyes command and it’s at that moment I realize. She is the dreamer and I but her dream.
Playlist
Hallelujah~ Rufus Wainwright
Whip appeal ~Kurt Whalum
Someone to love ~Kurt Whalum
Anytime ~Kurt Whalum
Your secret love ~Kurt Whalum
I wish I wasn’t ~Kurt Whalum
My sensitivity ~Kurt Whalum
All I do ~Kurt Whalum
special recognition to the spirit that never lets me forget. Whether I have it or not in my life, love and desire are still alive in this world.
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