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judecorpGah.
Something about the feeling when my hand slides over her destroys my ability to think in words, as if the slightest hint of wetness glides my mental faculties out of my head. It's almost like that game I played as a child, spinning and spinning to see who was the last to drop. I always lost - the imbalance in my inner ear conspiring with my stomach to create chaos.
In the darkness of our room, under the subtle breeze of the fan, I embrace the chaos, the imbalance, the turnover of my insides. A perfect fit, as my body molds to yours; as I conform to your shape; as you let me in; as I breathe you in. Later, your scent mingling with latent heat, the dizziness returns. I fall back, spent, spinning - only this time, I've won.
Something about the feeling when my hand slides over her destroys my ability to think in words, as if the slightest hint of wetness glides my mental faculties out of my head. It's almost like that game I played as a child, spinning and spinning to see who was the last to drop. I always lost - the imbalance in my inner ear conspiring with my stomach to create chaos.
In the darkness of our room, under the subtle breeze of the fan, I embrace the chaos, the imbalance, the turnover of my insides. A perfect fit, as my body molds to yours; as I conform to your shape; as you let me in; as I breathe you in. Later, your scent mingling with latent heat, the dizziness returns. I fall back, spent, spinning - only this time, I've won.
