I Still Want More

It's not the fall that'll kill you, it's the landing. Isn't that how the phrase goes? I don't know whether that is true, but I don't think it is.

Not in this moment at least.

"No," I moan out, long and slow, the plaintative cry of a mourner pouring out of me and then turning into a bray of something almost like pain as I rush down, "Oh god I still want more."

I had been so tight and so high and when I tip over the edge it isn't a graceful curve of a gentle bend. That hook in my belly, it shifts suddenly down and I don't fall so much as I collapse, in the most powerful of terms.

Not legs giving out. Not a table slipping down. Not even the graceless descent of a roller coaster.

Instead all of the heat turns inward and I collapse on myself like a dying star. Pulled down so fast and so rough that I feel myself bend beneath it, constricted by the gravity and the universal principal that what comes up must come down. That the higher you are, the harder you fall.

I descend into myself and the strain against my bonds only intensifies. I yank on them even harder as my body strains at the other end of something, some fathomless bottom that I am only kept from falling into by the bonds that hold me down, that bind me in place and into this reality as I hit rock bottom and then rebound.

Up. Up to a height just a few inches lower than the one I found before and down. Cast down into a depth that threatens to consume me until I am buoyed.

Until I am brought back and forth, bounded from one to the other as the moments draw out longer and the space between, where my body is light and loose, is extended in length.

And then, almost as sudden as it came on, it is over.

I notice my breathing first, the slow inhales and the ragged exhales. My body next, the muscles loose but still twitching from moments afterwards and my throat is so hoarse, so rough and ragged that I can barely even swallow.

But it all feels so good, that's something I absolutely cannot ignore. I don't know that I've ever felt so thoroughly used or so well satisfied in my whole damn life. I don't know that I've ever been as relaxed as I am when I find myself again, when I find a laugh that lights on my lips and bubbles out of me in waves, reaching out of my body and popping with a sparkling pleasure on my still sensitive skin.

My life feels magical. My body feels delightful. My soul feels satisfied.

And I feel like I've found it at last.

So much of everything but more than all of it me. This place for myself in this world, this place that makes meaningful sense for me. Or at least the beginning of that.

In the darkness beneath my bindings and my blindfold the vastness of my future stretches out before me, but it doesn't terrify me like it used to. It isn't something that I'm waiting for, it's something that I'm working towards, and for the first time ever even though I don't know what path I'm on or what lies ahead for me still I know that I have the right feet beneath me.

I may not be where I need to be. I may not know where I'm going. But I think I'm starting to undestand who I am.

Slowly I feel her next to me, Rachel staring down at me, her hands gently stroking my body as whatever was inside of me slips out and I gasp, but smile shakily at the end of it. I bite my bottom lip and I let out a moan, not so much lewd as it is reveling in the remaining pleasure within me.

Because I feel good, because I feel better than I ever have before.

Because, more than anything, I feel like just what she calls me next.

"Such a beautiful girl."

I am.

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