Written By Stefan V.
They are a haunting thing, your eyes. Even now, whenever I come across them, the eagerness I remember washes over me. And eager eyes signify a vibrant spirit. Back when I decided I wanted to taste that spirit, the eyes showed me away.
It wasn’t an easy point to reach, but I knew you’d give yourself to me one way or another. You’d fly here, I would drive, we would eventually meet face to face. I didn’t even bother my thoughts with what would follow. I wanted you to surrender to me before you even stepped on the plane.
It was the eyes. Everything became those eyes: Liquid, aether, mesmerizing, fluid, deviant. I wanted them to lust for me before I ever entered your sight, to sin for me before you even packed a suitcase. I’m not sure how I saw it, but there was a side to those eyes that agreed with my own aroused, lewd intentions. All I had to do was to reach and awaken it.
All the time I longed to have you at breath’s distance, I devised how I would conquer everything that laid behind your vision. Your mind. That was the way. I would leave your mind gasping for breath, aching for abuse. I would seed my naked hunger in your thoughts and leave you ravenous for my touch. And I knew exactly how.
I made a small note. Words. Everything I wanted to do to you. Just a description, a short, 2-minute script of where my hands would reach, where my lips would brush and where you’d feel my weight as I lean you against the wall… Provocative details, splayed out for you to sink yourself in. Every sentence an incantation. Every verb a trigger. Every letter an impulse. I wanted you to read and instantly sense my breath on your ear, I wanted to recognize my own desire in your seductive eyes, as you turn your head to greet my gaze.
I asked you to put on a nice, fresh pair of panties, get dressed, and then go somewhere crowded. You ended up in public shortly after. I even explained my intent to you. This is what’s astounding about the mental fornication we committed to. You knew exactly what I expected of you. Indulging me was what made you horny, not the context of our words. You stood among people and read through my smutty little paragraph, uncomplaining. The thought alone makes my blood boil, it makes me bite my lip whenever I envision you, secretly trembling with anticipation.
The little script I texted you wasn’t even a prequel to how I would invade your senses. Not even close. You were already on your back, writhing in pleasure when you agreed to bring those panties with you so I could see what your juices look like on expensive underwear. I told you, I wanted your mind to be laden with craving before I even laid a hand on your skin. Didn’t you even text me a picture of the soaking thong to show me how your body reacted to my request?
I never regretted assaulting your peace in such a way. It was the quickest way to captivate those eyes… And having them stare into mine as you eventually settled on top of me a few days later, was the greatest reward to a perversion of mine I could ask for…
And those eyes always made me wonder when you would ask me to dive into a fiery desire of yours. Because I easily would.
Should I be glad you still haven’t tried to?