Beyond Thought And Memory, There Is Touch

I can feel it on my skin, the kiss of the water so warm that it makes my tight body relax. I don’t know, until I feel it rushing over me, that I really even realized the tension I’d been carrying. All of me feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit or twisted and worried at over and over again until it starts to fray.

But maybe the tension was a good thing after all. It certainly helped keep all of the fullness of the feelings at bay for me and once the water was rushing over my skin and my body was relaxing the tension slipped out of reach and the fullness of her rose back up for me to witness.

Being, just existing, is so often done in the background.

We tune out our senses because if we focused on all of them all the time the world would seem so loud to us. That and the passage of time would make our later lives even more of a series of aches and pains and strains than it already is. If we didn’t have the capacity to turn down the dial, to shift sensations that were uncomfortable or so loud that they were impossible to experience in full into the background, then our lives would be such a riot of confusion that humanity would be collectively curled up on the ground barely able to breathe for the fullness of feeling rushing over us.

The tension, it turns out, was a self defense mechanism. Without it I can barely even stand.

I step under the water and it rushes over me and I gasp, looking down and spying the rivulets of water running over my skin. Cresting over my breasts and beading up on my nipples, dropping down to splatter against the ground until all those individual rivers are washed away as I step further under the water and a sheet of it washes over me.

I let out a long and slow exhale and my whole body loosens and I smile and sigh, closing my eyes as my body remembers the feeling of everything on it. My senses all tuned to touch and playing through every moment one by one.

Rachel kissing me, her hands on my body. The almost **** need to feel her on me and feel so much more than I got from her.

The promise that she was a woman with experience. That she was a woman with a body so much different and fuller than my own. That she could educate me, feeding me instructions as I lay back naked on a bed until she took my hands in her hands and traced lines over me, pushing into my skin and dipping my fingers into my sex to draw forth the heat of my pleasure until it became nearly too much for me to bear but entirely too much for her to let stand.

Because she’d want me. She’d want to taste me. She’d press her lips between my thighs and lap like a kitten at my sex. She would build up pleasure in me with her fingers and her nimble tongue and she would make me crest before sliding up my body and lowering her dripping sex onto my mouth, teaching me now how to please her just as well as she’d please me.

Oh god. I could almost feel it.

And almost feel Blake as well. Him of the singular focus. The man who went farther with me than I surely should have let happen. I’d had my hands on his cock and it felt good and hard and thick and if we hadn’t been interrupted. If they hadn’t made us hide.

Fumbling in the dark wouldn’t have been a thing, I know that for sure. I would have let him push me to my knees and he would have told me how cute I was when I looked up at him with my big eyes. He would have run a thumb over my lips and made me suck again, but he would have told me I’d look a lot more adorable with my cock in his mouth.

Would he have settled for just that? If he found out I was a virgin would he have stopped or would he have pushed for more? Would he have had me on the ground rutting into me like we were animals.

Would I have loved it as much as I thought I would?

God I could almost feel him now. And as I ran my hands over the soft swells of my body and the touch became too much to bear for me alone it was him and it was her and it was more that I thought of. I thought of the crowd of men whose appetites had been clear and consistent. I thought of torn sundresses and panties pushed to one side. I thought of lips on my skin and cocks in my mouth and pushing my legs apart and filling me with a single thrust.

As one of my hands slapped against the tile wall of the shower to hold me up the other plunged into my sex between my legs. Pulsing and pumping as my mind made it something else. As I filled in the details with a fantasy beyond my ability to resist.

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