N E C T A R

I

I lay in bed surrounded by darkness with the exception of the moonlight. Gazing at the ceiling, recalling several moments in which I was breathless.  Pondering how in the hell did I manage to get myself into such a situation: knowing nothing more will transpire beyond the physical. Yet despite this knowledge and the inability to reclaim my power, I was captivated in a way never experienced. I could close my eyes and feel like summer: the warmth like the sun beaming on my skin. The way your voice resonated, it would caress and tease my ears like the wind.  There was no escaping the mesmerizing halos of yours eyes and your touch was sure to ignite every neuron in the body.  The addiction was not only real but the withdrawal was unbearable. I needed a fix. Nectar. The sweetest thing I’ve ever known. A pleasurable pain I’ve grown to love.

II

Reunited at last and falling nothing short of the past, it was like falling for someone all over again. The conversation filled with a multitude of topics. Ambiance perfect for exploring the intimate energy between one another. The fact that my mind can be stimulated only fueled my desire to devour the sculpted Adonis before me. I succumbed to the weakness, relinquishing all control. Stopping him in the middle of his sentence. Tasting the remnants of Pinot Noir. Unbuttoning his shirt revealing rippling pectorals. Pushing him against the plush bed as I slowly undressed. I couldn’t just give it away so easy. He bit his lips as I slowly revealed my jockstrap, dropping it to the floor, now both us of in our most vulnerable of forms. Skin on skin. Lips to lips. Hands gliding, squeezing, teasing every reachable region. We tasted one another’s bakery for what seemed like eternity. It was the sweetest cake batter with an aroma that would cause anyone to have the desire to eat it. I grabbed and squeezed the cheeks and swirled my tongue around the center as if I was licking my spoon after mixing my tea with sugar. Before I knew it, we were flipping flopping around the bedroom. Clinching the sheets. Headboard banging. Maneuvering positions like effortless acrobatics.  Head in the pillows, moaning as you reach new depths of pleasure. Erupting, both reaching the apex of ecstasy, collapsing breathless in a lust induced embrace. In and out. Striving to regain composure. Silently enjoying the warmth provided by the other. Nectar. It’s always the sweetest thing I know.

  • Alex N. Wanderland