The things we want the most are most often the things we cannot have. Learning this has been a long and hard journey for me. I tend to do this more often than not. Forbidden, taboo, banned, off-limits, impermissible, unattainable. These are the words I most often try to disprove. Putting restrictions on things make me want to break free. My own natural rebellion, fighting against everything that tries to hold me down.
Wings spreading, wind whipping, freedom calling. Running. Running. Running. Get away. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Freeze, a third option is presented. Two is more than enough. A third had to be thrown in to complicate things further. Get out. Get out. Get out. Everything within me screams. Now. Now. NOW. Before it hurts even more.
Her face in front of me, coaxing me forward. Taunting. Teasing. I reach for her, taking her by the waist, pulling her close. Foreheads, noses, lips meet. Bodies pressed together, pulsing, grinding. Wanting. Needing. There is little difference anymore. Pushing away. Pulling back together. Pushing away. Pulling back together. The two halves of myself fighting for dominance. Ignoring the inner battle, I fight to stay in the moment. Kissing, licking, clutching, scratching. Sadism. Masochism. Pain. Pleasure. Blood. Moaning. Biting. Her clothes falling to the floor, mine following close behind. Ripped, torn from each others' bodies. Rushing to be free from the oppression of clothes. Our bodies press together, naked, exposed. Red blood running over white skin, making it whiter still. Sweet sweat, blood smeered. Pleasure derived from pain. Moaning her name. Kissing her scratch marks. Biting her neck. Licking. Hemophilia. Sadism. Masochism. Lips meeting again, tongue caressing. Her hair falling around both our shoulders, covering us from the world.