Conversation is brief.
Quickly we fall into bed, our bodies taking control. My mind is silent, focused only on the
pleasures to be had. I dive in,
abandoning restraint and care. I consume
him, devour him, engulf him. I pull him
into me, and push myself into him. We
become one.
We don’t make love, we fuck.
I can sense him giving in just as much as I do. We are both desperate for touch. I both revel in his beauty, and barely see
him. It is all sensation. A touch, a bite, a caress or a slap. There is anger in our passion.
When I climax I feel my body empty, turned to a shell of
spent desire and frustration. I don’t
glow, I float. My brain is silent, my
plans forgotten for a brief moment.
He doesn’t stay much longer after we are done. As my mind reboots I sense him examining my
apartment. He’s searching for
clues. He knows. He knows. HE
KNOWS.
When he leaves, when my brain is now running at full speed,
I realize that I need to act now.
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