Crossing Borders

As the Johnny Walker Black on the rocks swished around in my mouth before slipping down my throat, I wondered what she tasted like. As some of the drink spilled down my chin I imagined it being her juices. I imagined her thighs wrapped around my face, her pussy pulsating between my lips under the coaxing of my tongue. I could smell her across the room; she smelt like Vanilla and Lust. I tried to keep it together, to keep her from noticing me trying to stop looking at the rise of her breasts; the smoothness of the skin where her cheek meets her neck meets her shoulders. I bit my lips as I watched through hazy rose colored glasses as a smile spread across her face. I’m jolted by the sound of her laughter, wishing it was me making her scream out in ecstasy. 

I don’t know how the fuck this happened-- Or when I started craving her presence, her attention, her company. One minute we were strangers, then acquaintances, now secret lovers. It only took one night of liquid truth, one night of reckless abandon, and one night of seeing where the moment takes us. It happened so suddenly, so innocently. 

She told me I had nice lips. I blushed graciously. She said she bet they were soft and sweet. I licked them inadvertently. She told me I was being a tease. I smiled apologetically. She said she really wanted to kiss me. I paused. 

And before I knew it, her lips were on mine. Her kiss was earnest yet soft, inviting yet commanding. I was pulling her body towards me and slowly delving deeper into her mouth, her tongue caressing mine like a forgotten lover. And while I may have been startled, I was all in. The blood rushed to my head like a kiss from an old flame, but it was brand new. Half way through I had this moment of clarity, this moment of we shouldn’t be doing this… but as quickly as it came it was gone. I surrendered to the kiss reveling in the perfect passion that was this unforeseen moment. I acted with total disregard of consequence. Like a naïve teenager on prom night wondering nine months later how did I get here? That’s the thing about crossing lines, they’re like foreign borders, and the rules are always different on the other side. 

And now I find myself craving her, like a drug. Like an addict in recovery, I crave her and simultaneously tell myself-- NO MORE!! I have to stop THIS. THIS can’t end well, THIS can’t go anywhere, THIS can’t-- this CAN’T—THIS CAN’T--! 

But the truth is I can’t! 

I can’t stop wanting her. I can’t stop craving her. I can’t stop smelling her even when she’s not near me. I can’t stop fantasizing about our kisses, our soft touches. I can’t stop wondering what her inner soft sweetness tastes like or what she would sound like moaning my name, begging me to stop, or better, to keep going. 

Honestly, I CAN’T!

And I want to stop trying. To stop fighting whatever it is between us that keeps pulling us together; that keeps her blushing like a school girl in my presence. That keeps us doing this dance despite all of the risk, despite all of the potential consequence. 

I feel like saying fuck it We're grown! What's to stop us... Fuck the consequence of others, and their feeligs and their LOVE? Just embrace it all; to float through this Wonderland with the same reckless abandon that got me here and hope that nine months from now I know just how I got there.

Wherever that is…

But I CAN'T...


Because we are grown, and there will surely be consequence of this LOVE. Consequence larger than us... And so as I toss and turn these hot summer nights, hands tucked between hot moist thighs these next few days, weeks, months-- writhing in the reality of my withdrawals-- I'll have only the memory of what was and the reality of what should be. And as order is restored our passion that we shared will be but a vague memory; a glance across a room, a bitten lip and smile. Merely traces of what almost was... Consequence.