Concupiscence

      7 Comments on Concupiscence

It hits me with the chaotic silk-winged strength of an errant butterfly, a punch to the solar plexus that spreads heat in a confused beat-flap of unexpected desire.

Warmth, nostalgic and demanding, walks its fingers behind my navel and twists, shooting prickle-bolts of lightning to jolt awake the heartbeat that sleeps in the nerve-sensitized swell of suddenly-awake flesh.

I feel the sharp teeth of tenderness bite through armor I’d forgotten I was wearing.

Searching his expression through the flat-glass division that connects our delineated geography, I wonder… Why?

Not that it’s unwelcome. (Though it’s become unusual.) But why this sudden piercing emotion? Why this ache? What’s different?

Perhaps it’s the flush in his cheeks.
The red-ribbon present-promise bow of his lips.

The openness of his expression tonight is — if not now new — bringing to the forefront of memory a time when new it was.

And for a moment I remember.

I remember… 

…the suckle-press of those bowed lips nursing at the nub of my clit…

…the push-twist of his fingers wrenching an orgasm from the primal-scream depths of my essence.

And later, it is those memories that flit in sepia-toned aged silverscreen film stills through my mind while I draw hearts with the pad of my finger through damp folds, wishing the shudder-cum elixir drip of my pleasure was pouring hot and wet into his waiting mouth.

7 thoughts on “Concupiscence

  1. Brigit Delaney

    Mmm…those are some yummy adjectives.

    It is interesting to wonder where on earth those pressing, sudden memories and connections come from…what smell or sound or flicker of sight woke them from sleep.

    Though sometimes, also, it is nice just to soak in them and forget to question why.

    Reply
    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      It’s rather like experiencing a sudden, blinding ray of sunlight while navigating through fog. Everything is magnified to intense clarity, if only for a moment.

      Reply

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