Sex Is Bad

It is. I know it is bad. I know it is bad because I have felt a woman willingly place her hand in mine. I know because I have enjoyed the exponentially arousing feeling of her fingers brushing down the length of my fingers as we interlace them. Because my shoulders have received the full weight of her eyes after she concludes that they can bear her trust. Because I have been allowed to consider each and every subtle quality that define her face and neck. Because my tongue has tasted the deposit and withdrawal of her unfamiliar breath.

I know because I have been caught unaware by the ferocity with which my delight in the delicate dance of our tongues was overcome by an unmistakable wish to devour my prey without obtaining permission or forgiveness.

I know because I have seized her narrow waist and smashed her concealed hips into mine before granting my hands license to hunt for the entry point. Because, ever confident, I have triumphed past that magical barrier which separates exposed from unexposed.

I know because I have lifted her into the air and felt the unrivaled trifecta of her fingertips guiding, her legs surrounding, and her body enveloping as she descends.

Oh yes. I’m convinced. Sex is bad.

****

Happy Valentine’s Day

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21 comments

  1. Drew Ford

    Pretty steamy Captain Pete—–heard a review of Fifty Shades of Grey this morning—-he liked the movie in the subtle innuendos and toying interplay between the primary characters and then the critic opined that subsequently the movie descended into a hell of debauchery and sadism that made it somewhat nightmarish.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. crumpledpapercranes

    Sex can make you feel weird things. And think the nonsensical’s truth. Red is blue, white is black, chocolate is a bowl of quinoa and kale, and sociopaths can heal like cats who adopt abandoned baby squirrels.

    Sex is a powerful, if not bad drug.

    Liked by 1 person

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