A densely populated city street. Rush hour. Lazily, I walk down the strip mall, caring little about the latest fashion on display. What interests me far more is finding the few passers-by that are not absorbed by compensating their mental voids with ephemeral, cheap material possessions and pretentious status symbols. Granted, I give a poor target for a consumption-oriented free-market economy. This thought of outrageous rebellion against the establishment puts a faint yet self-content smirk on my tired face.
Scanning the crowd, I barely manage to sidestep you as we cross. Our eyes meet briefly, nothing more. I’m not even sure if it is really a smile I detect on the lower half of your face through my peripheral vision, but it makes me stop and turn my head around—just like you do too.
Our second visual encounter is slightly longer. Still, we do not indulge in more than a friendly exchange of looks between strangers, a renewed flash of our teeth bared of the habitual social awkwardness—maybe slightly brighter than just common courtesy among such fleeting acquaintances, and surely lingering a bit longer. Before I realize it, though, I’m captivated by your irises, their dark turquoise hue hypnotizing me, making me unable to move, flooding my head with telepathic pictures.
I see your joyous beam just before your lips crash on mine and we begin our familiar mating ritual, although we have just met. Our touches ardent, the kisses urgent, my teeth sinking into your neck as my hands seek your heavy bosom, freely dangling, unrestrained by the omitted unnecessary garment under your thin, translucent blouse. We lose ourselves in the passion burning in our hearts with the heat and brightness of a supernova.
Your moans spurring me on to explore every inch of your skin, every curve of your body with my fingers, my nose, my tongue... I am but a serf to your pheromones. Our hands venture to places kept hidden from daylight as your pout casts itself at mine again. We only allow us to part so my fangs graze the skin of your cleavage that seems to run endlessly deep, so invitingly plunging.
Unable to resist you, I eagerly follow your guidance towards spots you seldom let anyone kiss despite deeply coveting it, discovering that, unbeknownst to me, you have already shed your garments.
I feel your gaze observing my performance through eyes half-closed before you throw your head back in pleasure and your siren-like voice keeps fueling the blazing desire in my loins. Not yet willing to grant you your satisfaction, I take in the visuals of your mouth agape mimicking the expression of your nether lips which I part with my fingers, unveiling your precious jewel.
Your digits entangled with my hair, scraping my scalp will me on into taking you to heights you’ve never experienced—just not quite yet. An offering this powerful needs proper build-up. Your groan comes frustrated instead of enraptured as you realize how I deliberately keep you from your release and choose to wield the power over your ecstasy as I see fit.