Waiting On The Edge Of Anticipation

In the dark emptiness of the space around us we float, dancing among the absence of all else but for us and the silent watching eyes. A sea of them surround us but I barely register their presence. I am far too caught in the majesty and magic of the moment and the apprehension, the anticipation of the moment before he enters me.

I can feel him before me, feel him on me. His touch firm but gentle, a guiding hand shifting my presence and my positioning until I feel like I’m lying on my back and he is caressing me like I am the petals of a flower and he is bringing me to blossom, gently parting me and spreading me open.

His hands run over my breasts and my skin turns to goosebumps. My nipples harden as he teases his thumb over them, flicking and then drawing them in between his thumb and his forefinger and pinching just enough to make me gasp.

Then down, caressing over the soft flatness of my tummy and lighting on the tops of my thighs he pushes down halfway to my knees and bends in, pulling as my thighs part for him and I feel him shift on top of me.

There is a moment where he isn’t touching me at all, where I lose the sense of him entirely and panic seizes me and I mewl, **** for him to touch me. In that moment I sense all of my body, all of my entirety. I sense this brimming fire on my skin and this tingling need in my belly that throbs and pulses and I arch my back, my hands desperately flailing out to my sides and finding no touch of nothing, no sense of anything in the fathomless void.

But I feel the warmth of it. The emptiness is like silk on my skin. Like diving beneath the surface of warm ocean water and feeling the salty heat of it envelop and wrap me up.

And when I break the surface and gulp in air he is there for me, wrapping me up as his hips slide between my eagerly parted thighs.

I feel him slide within and I feel the turgid heat of his hardness pressing against the inside of my left thigh for a moment before it presses onward. Gasping I reach for it and I want it and I need it and my hands fly down to grab it, to stroke it, to feel it in full as I pull it closer to me.

He is inches away now and I can almost taste it. I can almost feel it inside of me already but the anticipation is killing me and I bite my bottom lip and look in the direction of him without opening my eyes and I furrow my brow and put as much effort as I can into my expression so he knows, so he knows there can be no more delay.

A part of me knows this is odd, this potent hunger. A part of me feels that I am betraying the truth of myself that I’d always known and accepted until this point. A part of me is so angry, screaming out epithets and promises of vengeance.

And that part has always been there for me. It’s been the voice that tells me to buck up and stop crying when I hurt. It’s been the voice that told me to stand so tall that no one could ever reach me. It's been the voice that told me to make mistakes. To fight when I should talk. To strut like I know what I’m doing and to never admit my own weaknesses, my own vulnerabilities.

It’s the part that sees the uniqueness of me as a failing.

But though that voice is screaming it is also so quiet right now and it’s getting quieter by the moment and this moment, this choice here, feels like it’s stripping it of its power and god I can get behind that. I can accept that and want it.

I can be happy if that voice goes silent.

This might just be a dream but it’s more than that to me. It’s taking a moment to face up to my true self and my truth for the first time in maybe my entire life and it’s taking the time to smile as I feel him line up, as I feel him against me.

My hands leave him when I feel the head of him pressing against my sex. They alight on my chest and they curl in there as I feel him line up with me and I breath in deep and wait.

He doesn’t tell me to relax, not exactly, not with words. But I know it anyways and I will my body to do just that as he dips in enough to make the thick head of him slick with my wetness and then there is just the moment of anticipation.

Then there is just the moment before.

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