Once upon a time…somewhere in the oniric virtual space between Paris and Bucharest, there was a small room. And we could feel the humidity in the air, the same smell from old people houses.
You pushed me in the dark and your mouth was searching for mine. I was taking myself down from your holding, bending my knees and sliding on the floor, stuck against your body, having no weight, like in an imponderable state. You moaned with pleasure, understanding my intention.
I was trying to guess when to stop, when to slow down and when to accelerate the rhythm, which points to avoid and which ones to push. All of a sudden, I caught your penis in my mouth like in a hot lather cover and my hands, hooked in your buttocks, were pushing you over me deeper and deeper.
And even in the dream, I had the strange feeling that Kundalini, the snake of the sexual energy, had its secret dark hole in my stomach. I was looking at your face; you were biting your lips with your teeth, loosing control.
When everything finished, we remained in the same positions, you – the forehead propped up the wall, tasting the suspicious and strange flavor of your own blood, me – still in my knees, swallowing on my turn, your white, milky juice.
It was….how should I say…the balance of the liquids from our mouths was of a perfect, artistic symmetry.
Ah, and before leaving, I let my writing on your skin, so you could read me when I would not be any longer in your dreams.
by Lady A
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