I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed the sound of a man’s moan as much as yours. The raw footage of the combination of you and I, lives to forever tease the memory. To know that at once, the way we existed, the liberation of our inhibitions, allowed for our bodies to meet. There’s always been a tender admiration in the physicality’s of you. Hushed laughter escaping because the self becomes conscious but permission is given to quiet the fears. To quiet the mind. To quiet the lips. Kisses were always jaded. Always hiding behind the feeling of the familiar. Logic is forgotten when the body decides on its desires. We learned. We taught a language to each other. Hieroglyphic messages left against the flesh. Serving as memories and wars between lovers. The barriers broken to reach you, still on repeat even years later. I have yet to find another man who’s sound of pleasure became a melody I loved to hear. I love the vulnerability of a man. It’s beautiful and pure. Soft hints of delight. Combined with the masculinity of you and I begin to just melt. In your hands. Into you. Traces of my love become creamy satisfaction and those moments that escape you… your lips, your hands… at times I am so full of you that, the options of having parts of your whole will never suffice in the way we make art. Stay here with me tonight, just once more. It’s never enough to just hear my name in the darkness.
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