The touch…. February 1, 2007

This is a true story. It really happened to me.

I felt my thoughts ringing at the back of my head. Lingering amongst the small crevices, cold as ice. The more I thought, the worse the pain. My thoughts weren’t coherant anymore.

I felt my fingertips ache, moving non-chalantly, applying pressure so slight, as to not hurt the other one.

I felt the other springing to my response, but that was to be expected. I sighed, wanting to do more, and to produce more than what I have expected.

I move my delicate fingers around again, roaming and exploring every single crevice and area, a touch here and there. Sometimes I touch a forbidden area, and make such ugly voices come out. I shush them with hard touches, and it seem to please the other.

At times, I do stop. Rest a while if you may call it.  But the other just stares at me. Begging me to finish. I sigh, running my fingers through the short length of my hair. I mouth out, do you want me to continue? I hear no reply, but I assume it was a yes.

I could feel the other burning, heating up madly, while I feverishly continued my ministrations, nary a complain from the other. I paused a while to stretch, while the other showered me with it’s vulnerability. The other simply could not finish off without me.

The other needed me.

But I didn’t need the other.

Giving a final touch, I left the other unfinished, unfulfilled. Insensitive like a hound, I went to bed, and pulled the sheets over my head, allowing another to play with the one unfulfilled.

Epilogue.

I woke up with a searing pain in my head. Curses, a headache. That’s what I get for sleeping late. I sigh slightly as I heaved myself to the chair in front of my desk. I switched on my monitor and stared at my assignment. 

Damn, it’s only half done.