I could not even catch my breath as I began to unlace her shoe. Comfort was my only thought as I approached what I would do. I got one off so purposefully and justified. I did not want to force it for fear of ruining my intentions tide. Her sock came too easy, almost giving itself to me, and beneath were those painted toes, so soft were those feet. We had already kissed and she'd lay back revealing herself to me and so I moved, as I do, without sacrificing virginity. I kissed those feet in the dark and saw my own defeat. Like a beast kneeling before a bee stricken to his knees, a true and archetypal victory.
She began unbuttoning her blouse and I rushed to her top to stop her. "Let me now", I whispered, begging that she let me be the laborer as I had to remain in control for I was afraid I might rape her. I moved my lips across her legs feeling the texture of her soul and so when I moved across her skirt I did so gracefully, reciting Dante in my mind remembering the detachment and might, forcing myself to focus harder on these moments, even daring myself to be perfect. I was in the moment and out again, never consumed, but ever aware. So as my hands found themselves on her so I was reminded that she was alive and sober. I started again with those buttons, each a tiny battle in this war, and finally I their victor, emperor of this cream torso. Her skirt was zippered and I had to touch her to release it, feeling too much, forgetting to breath, and shaking like a boy 'on that night'. Finally the passion overwhelmed me and I, staring at this nudity, smelling its serenity, and having tasted the sweat of lust, removed myself from her, having done nothing to upset or invade her, and finally leaving having only undressed her.
- ▼ 2010 (26)