Those moments, so full of strong words mixed with tangled limbs,
Moments that could make the moon blush the prettiest of pink hues,
Those are the most passion driven ones in my agenda, my body, my soul.
As many know, there are many kinds of passions. For art, for studies, for foods.
My favourite kind is meant to enjoy with a partner, hopefully in a bed, but I won't demand luxuries if my heated self and my lover are okay with whatever it exists at the moment.
If I hadn't been clear: yeah. Sex.
Passion is meant to be shared, and I do, plenty of it.
But you see, I'm not that fair sometimes.
I may be a little like a tyrant, so demanding, so full of orders.
I like to boss around, to feel big and loud on my lover's body; on their minds too.
That's my favourite part, really. I see it like a souvenir:
I can be a spoiled brat, but all in all, I know perfectly how to give a nice time. Enough to be remembered in pieces, like lipstick on the flesh.
Red lipstick is pretty hard to get off.
I perfectly know this, feigning innocence while leaving my mark everywhere on my canvas.
Oops.
I tend to lend some control, sometimes, for fun.
I want a challenge, always.
Someone who makes me beg to my knees, if possible enough.
I prefer to feel the power in my own actions tho, by the doing of my hands. My mouth. My voice, specially.
My body if they are obedient.
I'm so selfish when it comes to this stage. I'm such a performer, so dedicated.
But--I've been told I can't hold my facade for not more than a few beats; I am a sensible one deep inside, you see.
I tend to be soft in the midst of the storm.
I craddle, I hug, I caress even.
I can be a fool if feelings are involved.
But still, till my heart is drown out from so many twists, I let the fire aloose till it burns the whole room.
Till everything becomes ash.
(Till my lover notices what I'm trying to hide. )
I can tell I'm letting myself go and go, thanks to flashes of a flushed face, lips apart,
Letting the most beautiful sounds out, all for me to replay a thousand of times after the moment is over.
Sounds I'm responsible for from the touch of my fingertips against skin, soft and hard at the same time, knowing where to touch to get the most sophisticated ones.
The groans.. oh, my favourites.
I don't hold back.
I consume every little groan, every moan, every needy rasp. Everything.
They fuel my fire to no end. They make me want to take as much as I can.
They make me feel desperate, as if I need that satisfaction to live.
Maybe I do.
I feel so alive when I'm in charge. When I can melt the ice to water.
It obsseses me to no end.
It's such a strong want, to feel them shivering against me, so full of need, so craving, so needy, so hopeless.
I love letting my power drain their senses to nothing, as if their movements belonged to me.
Drinking every little whimper.
Savouring every little arch of their backs.
Swallowing them from head to toe.
Devouring till they spasm, till they choke on their own sounds.
Ah, that beautiful moment.. so precious. So thin and fragile.
I'm not a mean lover; I also lend some space to let them free for a bit, before everything comes undone.
I let them wander themselves on me, as a reward to their lovely twists and turns.
If only for a moment. A distraction.
Then I'm back at full force, demanding more than before.
After all, everything has to come to an end, and when it's near, it's desperating.
I want the latest of their wants; I'm not spoiling any single drop of that gift.
No fucking way.
Sometimes I think I am the one who deserves to be punished so lovely,
To be tied down and let them make me squirm, to be spanked out of my senses, to be teased the fuck out for my mean demeanor.
Bad girl, bad.
I might deserve it for my greediness.
And yeah...
I'm a fair person, but I like to command better, these finishing minutes the most.
It gives me peace, and eases up my lust.
And also I can't resist the urging in their gazes, thru the length of the whole moment.
They scream "make me come please", "can't hold this anymore",
Being fair and all, who am I to resist such complaint? Such beautiful expression?
Didn't I mention somewhere that I'm a people pleaser?
Such a pleasure, my dear. I whisper in their ear, feeling them tremble softly in my arms.
That sight is enough to drain me out.
And then the moment is over.. and everything feels so right.
The smell of sex is my favourite. It fills up the room as a silent reminder of it all, like an atmosphere made just for you and your lover/s.
(And yeah, maybe a cig or a cup of some strong alcohol.)
Of course, this is also the most difficult part.
It's a nice thing I save up some energy for the afterneath, otherwise I would not be prepared for such display before me.
It tends to be always so similar, yet it takes my breath away 99% of the time all the same, no matter how many times I've seen it:
Seeing them smile nonchantly, staring at me as if I was special. Holding myself whole in that gaze.
The rumble in my heart stops. My mind makes it all unfocused.
I feel like I'm dreaming everytime I see that picture, and I feel a mix of things:
Possesiveness, pride, love.
Love.
Adoration.
I hold that stare for a million years, and smile back just in time.
It's such a beautiful mess, really...
The most beautiful and endearing picture one would want to remember for the rest of their lives.
So yeah.. about this thing called being passionate.
I guess I am, and I enjoy it to no end.
Passion drives you to places you don't want to leave ever.
See it like an addictive beverage you want to get drunk into anytime of the day, in whatever place.
Be an alcoholic.
Cheers, my passionate ones.