An Old Pairing

Sunset gives way to a sex-addled craze and they navigate the darkness by touch. The years have amassed all the hidden shadows of their wants, their sightless gazes overlooking their needs, all the gloom enveloping their fragile hearts. Now, these are all easily read through the braille of their veteran hold over each other. Flattering and familiar fingers fidget with each other's form, never fumbling.

His body is a time machine taking her far, far into the present. Her mind is a maelstrom welcoming all his turgid whimsy.

Love once bound them, then broke them, and now blindly bruises both again. Lust drives their despair donned in a decade's droning deprivation. The whimsical wistfulness of their wishes guides them with glib guile to grab at each other's gasps.

No longer the people they once were, yet not so far removed, their shared experience drives them forward. The youthful fears resurface only to be drowned in seas of old pleasure.

This tentative reunion after so many years was based on mutual forgiveness. Their **** to admit their true intentions was simply masking as a mutual respect for their ended relationship. They lost this pretense with a miscalculated word, a look of longing and a wayward touch.

Who did what first would be debated into their respective personal mythology for a long time, but some other time. For now, how the two came to be so perfectly comfortable modeling their nudity for this monument to immodesty is less of a mystery:

Time heals all wounds and distance makes the heart grow fonder. Old adages as worn as the hatreds shared between these lovers.

Yet, this knowingly destructive act of abandon does not stay their hands. She drinks it all in and he eats it all up. Their hunger is sated for now. Once lucidity finds them again, they feel no lesser for what they've done.

In fact they feel better for being honest, as if baring themselves had offered the best orgasm of the night. The strangest part is knowing with the entirety of their sweating, panting, moaning being... that this will happen again.

They are an old pairing. Like coffee and cigarettes, each are addicting in their own right. Their poison comes together for a beautiful but ruinous conspiracy of acquired taste and chemical dependency, to the point one can't have one without the other. An association. A psychological pull. A habit not easily broken.

It absolutely reviles some. It makes perfect sense to others. Taste can be **** to learn what to love. Like coffee and cigarettes... they are an old pairing.