Closer

When I make love with you, I want to love all of you. The parts that I seldom get to touch, I make love to with my heart. When we kiss, I sometimes feel as if I can't get close enough. If only there was only some way to climb inside your body. I hold on to you, squeeze you tight until you nearly break. I wrap you up in my arms and listen to you breathe, knowing that I could take away that sweet breath in a moment of passion.

When we make love I take your long, slender neck into my hands and hold it gently. I want to cover your face in kisses at the same time but your face is so beautiful that I don't know where to begin. Perhaps your closed eyes with those lashes that rest against your cheeks...your lashes with the miniature tears that never seem to evaporate. I load them up with additional moisture from my tongue. Your lovely nose and the dimples in your cheeks, that mouth of yours, those lips! I'm drowning in your beauty!

I feel your pulse against my palm, beating like a drum. Your throat is so soft to touch. I hold it with care and pamper it with tender kisses and finger caresses as soft as a summer breeze. Your throat...such a beautiful thing, long and slender, a throat with four rings bestowed upon it by nature to celebrate its beauty. Oh Annika! My gift would be a living necklace, a special one for your special neck, cinching closer and closer.

"Strangle me, sweetheart, my throat is yours," you tell me and I grab you by the lovely column of your neck. You swoon and fall back on the bed with your arms wide open, welcoming me, offering your throat with its four lovely rings to my yearning hands, my expert fingers. I lower my face into the softness, searching out those special places: the two long, strikingly beautiful tendons that first appear and then vanish like magic with each turning of your head, those delicate collar bones graced with those hauntingly gracious hollows on either side, that delectable larynx, revealing itself especially when you toss your head back with a careless air of nonchalance. I love it when you do that.

We move on, getting more serious all the time. You dare to choke me as both of your hands with their long, slender fingers encircle my throat, pressing tightly. I just lie back and allow you this indiscretion and you squeeze my neck with abandon Your fingers press my Venus rings and my tongue extends. You kiss all three of them one at a time and our nipples grow hard together. Soon our pussies will overflow, releasing their cache of pearls. In this hot liquid night our fragrances fill the air — the sweet fragrances of our ferocious love. Wrapped up in each other we continue to discover new ways to reconnect and simplify, becoming just one thing — a new thing — a single force.

I tangle my fingers into your lustrous hair and pull hard.

"Look up, sweetheart," I tell you with a gentle tease in my voice. "I want show you the footprints on the ceiling".

"Don't you mean that you want me to show you my neck?" you ask me sarcastically.

"Don't be such a bitch, Annika; it's just a joke."

"Yeah, funny. And don't you be such a cunt!"

"Whore!"

"Breeder!"

"Lesbo!"

You laugh. "You're a lesbian too, you know...that's not exactly a cut, my dear."

But your resistance increases and I pull harder. Your tendons stand out and I nuzzle them with my nose and my mouth and my razor sharp teeth. You squeal and struggle and we dance in a mock duel, collapsing onto the bed lost in giggles. I stand up and stretch out, passing my palms over my breasts. You watch me with half-closed eyes, appearing passive and unresponsive; but before long I observe your nipples growing erect and poking against your blouse. I lift your silk scarf and pass it around my own neck and we both laugh. Rejoining you on the bed, I remove the scarf from my neck and place it around yours. Your nipples become like hard little berries.

I pull the ends tight, trying to take you into oblivion.

"No Michelle, don't!" you say with fatigue and a hint of annoyance in your voice.

"Don't be such a baby," I tell you.

"Stop...STOP IT! Michelle!"

I ignore your resistance and finally squeeze off all your words. The scarf stretches around the sweet column of your neck, digging into the tender young flesh. You struggle in vain. Our bodies throw black, struggling shadows onto the wall, a single flickering candle our only light. I bury my face in your neck and vying with the scarf we both attempt to sink into the gorgeous flesh of your throat. I watch it, lay my cheek against it. I wish I could be that silk scarf. Getting closer and closer...

The expression on your face enthralls me. God, how you strangle, fighting for the last threads of your life. You beat on my chest and pull on my wrists as your beautiful Scandinavian eyes become saucers. You must wonder if I am attempting to kill you this time as lights flash in your head. From deep inside your body, a faint but growing fire smolders. Soon the flames shall come to incinerate your mind, banishing all your thoughts, your consciousness becoming only the sensations in your body, without form or substance. Erotic fires begin to sear your insides, licking along the feminine curves hidden within your secret interiors.

Your tongue becomes a red flag, flapping in the air. I lean my thigh into your clitoris and you wrap your legs around it, pressing and bouncing against it. My wrists are collared by your long fingers, their nails opening veins and releasing tiny rivers of my blood. I become fascinated by this scarlet flow and my own blood-letting hypnotizes me. There is a scream inside your head, a scream that should be coming from your throat as your orgasm grabs ahold of you, shaking you, opening the gates of Nirvana — your body becoming closer and closer to mine, to the cold depths of my inner core, instantly freezing , then releasing, dispensing all your memories, becoming weightless and free as the last little pieces of your consciousness flicker like that single candle just before its flame goes completely out.