Love Prose: from sessions in the balcony

The best part is the wild part.
This is when you dance on the edge of being caught, or you do something forbidden because it feels good. This is the part that makes your hearts thump when you see each other.
It is the reason why she followed you into the back room where no one else goes, but the possibility of someone rushing in and opening the door at any minute stirs you both into the excess of each other’s flesh.

This is why your kiss rolls her eyes into the back of her head and her body falls limp into your arms. This is why she submits to you, and this why you cannot think of anything else but the smell of her hair as your reach your face into the side of her neck.

The best part is the wild part—this is the part that churns you and makes you feel alive. This is the part that leaves you feeling like a carnivore—you become the hunter and she becomes only prey.
The best part in all of this is your need for her. And when you see her—you need to take her right there on the spot.
No one else can satisfy you. No one else could make you feel as strong, or as wanted. No one else could come close to what she does—so when you see her—you become an animal.

And to keep it going, you create different scenarios. You come up with new ideas and you try them in places you’ve always thought about.
You create different roles for yourselves.
You create different fantasies.
You wander around and slip behind the curtain of a dressing room in the ladies intimate section of a department store.
And you hide there. . .
You wait until she comes through the curtains, but you hold still and you remain hidden until she removes her clothes. She knows you will come for her—but not how or when. All she feels is the chill in her spine from the anticipation of your unexpected approach.
So you wait . . .

You wait behind the curtain until she removes her shirt or until she drops her pants, revealing herself in a room where she otherwise believed she was alone—and that’s when you move in.
You move quickly and burst through the dressing room door without being detected by anyone else. You grab her, and then you take her from behind while placing your hand over her mouth so she can’t make a sound.
You move into her, feeling her body soak itself upon yours. You move in, reaching for her chest, squeezing her close, and pulling her hips back into your waist until you spill yourself inside of her.
And when you spill . . . you spill every drop

The best is the wild part.
This is the part that no one else knows about. These are your deepest and darkest fantasies; this is where you reveal yourself to her and she exposes herself to you. This is when you learn about her kinks and fetishes, and this is where she learns about yours. Nothing is forbidden and nothing is taboo.

All of this combines and connects you in a different way. There are no secrets and there is no shame. There is no reason to hide anything and you both become mutual to one another; mutually working towards satisfying each other’s taste and pleasures.

This is when you truly see her—and a piece of you feels free. A piece of you feels free because aside from the bond of your companionship and more than you intellectual attraction, you are physically bonded to her in a way that is absolutely beautiful.

You start to see her differently. You notice things, like small details—like the way her lip curls when she smiles or the expressions she makes when you walk in the room. You notice the way her hair folds over her ear when she ties her hair away from her face.

You look at her differently—like when you attend cocktail party together. You notice her speaking to someone in the distance, but meanwhile, you have this thought, which races in the back of your mind, and you wonder if you could take her in the coat room, or someplace else, like say, up to the roof.
You imagine the roof so you can see the lights of Manhattan twinkle in the eyes of the girl from your dreams. You figure the roof would be the best place, because if you could take her there, then you would not only stand high on on top of the city, but you would feel like a king as he arrived inside of his queen.

The best part is the wild part.
This is the part that keeps us young.
It keeps us aroused and alive.
It keeps us hungry and prowling.

But sometimes, it is good to set the wild part aside. Sometimes it is good to simply lay between the sheets and feel nothing but her body beneath yours. There is nothing quite like the way she moves, or like the way she moans. There is nothing like the way she feels when you move between her legs and there is nothing quite like the look in her eyes when she looks up as you rise over her body and says, “I love you.”

That’s when you realize

The best part is not the wild part

The best part is her

Painting by Artist Gary Benfield
Another one of my favorites

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