eros, logos: Breath

Friday, June 09, 2006

Breath

I've been asleep when he calls me. Doesn't matter, I think I was dreaming him anyway. I close my eyes and let his voice wash over me. I'm leaving, he says, I'm out the door in a few minutes, I just had to hear you....I know this. We're greedy. Always skating right up to the edge of whatever time limit we have...and always then a little over. We're both always late for everything now. Even more than before.

I'm naked and warm under my duvet. He asks where I am, and I tell him. He can picture it, remember me. Are you going to come for me later, he asks, and I tell him, yes, as soon as you have to go. I want you to think about that while you're going to X, I tell him.
I have to come, I can't wait for tomorrow for you to fuck me again.
The voice on the phone slows down, drops a register.
Yes, he says, I won't be able to stop thinking about it.
I can't breathe now. Tell me, I say. My thighs are a little open, and I'm holding my hand just over my cunt. I can already feel the heat there, without touching, the heat he brings out in me. Tell me what you want me to imagine, right now.
Let's see he says slowly. He's not above being a little sadistic with me. I think he likes to prolong it, the moments where he still has control, before I can make him equally helpless. I both hate and love this helplessness he makes me feel.
Keep your eyes closed, he tells me
Imagine I'm standing there over you, watching you.
I'd have to take my cock out. I'd have to be stroking it.
Tell me where you want me to come, he says. Tell me where you want my cock most.
I tell him.
I gasp a little. I can't hold back, and while he's been telling me to imagine him stroking his cock, I had to give in though I hadn't planned to. One finger gently parting the swollen lips of my pussy, there is so much wetness there now. I imagine how it'd look to him. I drag the tip of my finger over my clit and I shudder. I know he hears it in my breath, and can hear it in my voice, that shiver. I can picture with my eyes shut how his hands would move on his cock, and it's just how I would picture with him here. I'm teetering on that edge, before i lose all self-restraint. In another minute I'll surrender all control over what I do and say.
I want you to imagine me, I tell him.
I want you to watch me.
I want you to imagine me with my legs flung wide, one hand holding open my cunt so you can see everything, how much I want you, how wet I am, my fingers on my clit.
Like they are right now.
This is what I want to do with him, to be flung open, all petals opened, to be known. The layers of my self and of language peeled back to the shining core. My body a husk split open. It rises in me, around me like water closing over my head, and I want to know you he says sometimes, his cock plunging into me, and yes, yes, I gasp, pinned on him, squirming. I want to be known, to know him and sometimes all this frantic and relentless plunging seems like the pursuit of something else, this hunger that is never sated, always more. When he comes into the core of me and I shudder around him clenching on his cock it feels like that.
So I want him to see everything, I want him to see me with my cunt splayed wide, opened for him, in the same way that i would kneel above his face, let him taste me, know me.
I want you to watch me, I say, I want you to come on me. I want his genetic code written on me--will you come on me? will you tell me where?
I know he will have to leave. I can't stop though, and I know I'll come as soon as he hangs up...

The warm voice in my ear is rougher now, lower, between a growl and a sigh and he says oh christ [O] i have to get my cock out...oh fuck, i have to

Yes, I say, desperate now and I can't talk. Yes. Please. I can't swallow. I can see in my mind's eye his gorgeous cock and his hands on it, I almost think I will faint, if I weren't already on my back I would have to lie down.
(I want him to come on me. I imagine it dripping down me, around my hand. I can almost feel it now, beacuse I'm wet like a river, and I can almost smell us together. I can almost smell him in my bed with me, the way he wakes sometimes in the middle of the night and hallucinates the smell of me on his hands.
I want him to come on me, I imagine it. I want to rub it into myself and lick my fingers while he watches. I want to let him watch me touch myself while it runs out of my cunt. I can't understand these urges, new to me, but there is something about the way I want you that makes my imagination turn completely pornographic. We start out teasing but it's like we never have enough of each other, the foreplay falls away in this headlong rushing plunging through space, like the way we can never bear for you to give me your cock an inch at a time, always that need for complete union, for you to thrust into me and bury yourself in me ballsdeep.)
Wittgenstein is wrong; there is a private language and this is what we are speaking now and so I cannot write it, and when he comes I can feel it, i can't help coming too, I always come when he calls me like my body and spirit are being turned inside out, caught up like a washcloth, shaken and wrung out by something larger than us. Lying here gasping and coming back to myself, apart yet not. Only connect.

[...] and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.
Carol Ann Duffy, Words, Wide Night

Tags: sex, sexblogs, Erotica, masturbation, phone-sex, cock, E.M. Forster, aphasia, greed

posted by O @ 14:46