my careless contagion

Her lips moved against mine. I was vaguely aware she was saying something, then her body moved away from mine. An ache moved through me as her fingers trailed down my arm and across my hand and finally my fingertips. She stood next to me for a moment and then she was gone. That was my dream. It wasn't an erotic dream. Just a dream. What remained after the dream was the sense of feeling worthwhile. I've gone for so long thinking I have no worth. It seems inconceivable for a woman to touch me. If a dream can arouse such feelings in me, then it's clear I was getting a lot of my self-worth from being physical with a woman. Or from any physical touch, for that matter. I wouldn't normally write about a dream like this, but it reminded me of something. In any relationship, it's important to understand love languages. My primary love language is physical touch. I'm one of the easiest to please. I didn't always know about love languages. A dear friend expla...

These hands move over her like pleasure-seeking precision instruments. My palms sweat and glide over her hot skin. In the dim light, I watch her take in a breath and bite her lip, her face contorting in pleasure.  As I press against her body, she writhes in my hands. Her breathing quickens, she gasps, moans, groans, and then her eyes open. Our eyes inhale each other. Our minds ponder the same question. And we're hopeless in each other's arms.  Her shirt comes off, and so does mine. Somehow our flesh seems like it's on fire. When I touch her, my skin wants to stay on her. It's like I'm trying to become her.  I part her legs and lean in to kiss her. She stops me for a moment as my intentions become clear. Kissing her makes me ache. Touching her isn't enough. Our breath is hot on each other's faces and necks. I kiss her chest, her eyes, her ears, her neck, her shoulders, her fingertips. She's one big erogenous zone, and nothing is neglect...