It starts slow, apprehensive. Not sure of each other. Not sure of ourselves. Pinkies barely touching as we sit together. Then our hands entwine, sending little shockwaves through our bodies. Legs brush together. We make small talk while trying to decide how fast or slow to go now. We’ve waited so long, but don’t want to rush.
You move first, your lips lightly brushing mine. Soft. Sweet. Perfect. Our bodies get closer, pressing in on one another as if some outer force gave us no other choice. Tongue flicking ear. Lips pressed together. Skin touching. Hands and fingers caressing, stroking, exploring. All the sounds of the world disappear and there is only us, our breathing, our rustling. Our bodies become one. The temperature rises. We move in sync, as if we’ve done this a million times. A perfect, passionate, exquisite moment in time.
When I open my eyes, my body is on fire, clothes stuck to me. The dream seemed so real. I could feel you as if you were right here with me. I could smell you, taste you. But it wasn’t real. Not yet. It was just the dream of a fevered brain. I close my eyes, roll over, and hold my pillow close to me. Maybe I can get back to the dream. It’ll do until the right time comes along.