What Is Unspoken
h & c
"Ignorance is bliss" -- the words roll off your tongue with a sense of superiority that you know he hates and a dare you know that will be kept at bay, regardless of the spark you both feel when your fingertips graze -- linger, the longing look you share, the sexual tension flaring up instantly, the slight temperature hike in the room, the inability to move or blink your eyes, the pain you know you would feel in your throat if you try to swallow, the quickening in matching pulses, the pull in your lower bellies. You break the spell abruptly, turning quickly, fracturing this trance with him. You're suddenly looking forward to going home.
c
Long legs spread against cool sheets. Your body arched, naked, nipples hard, pointed to the ceiling. You gasp. Feel the wetness between your legs rush like a stormy river, long fingers gently spreading you, tentative tongue teasing you, heated breath on your clit. You grab at hair. Wanting more. Pushing for more. Encouraging those fingers and tongue deeper, faster, concentrating on your clit with gusto. You wetter, hotter, more aroused. His tongue exploring you. Teasing you. Pleasing you. Pushing you to the edge of bliss. He pulling from you the most exalting and exhausting orgasm.
You lie sated and sweaty on your sheets. You remove yourself from your reverie. You're pleased with your vivid imagination and new batteries pulsating your vibrator. You feel as if he was really here, worshiping you between your legs, lapping at you for hours. You wish he was, but for now, you live with lust and masturbation. You wonder if he will ever be able to step beyond his ignorance and enter into bliss, even if means without you. You wonder if you live too abundantly in your fantasies and if you'll always be alone.
h
Her touch was a whisper that was scorching. Now you sit in your chair, stroking long dark hair. You squeeze your eyes tight and try to imagine this hair has waves and wispy highlights, and that this woman kneeling in front of you would respond to "Allison" not "Paula." You try to imagine as this woman, who takes your cock in her mouth, is Allison: that Allison is giving you bliss, that she is swirling her tongue around the tip of your cock, that she fondles you gently, and strokes you to wicked arousal and climax -- just for you. But that is not what this is. You reach out and touch the hair in front of you, feel the silky locks and close your eyes to imagine what you really want. But it doesn't work; because you see Allison standing above you, her words echoing in your ear, something you're too afraid to see, to imagine, to touch. And that is what you cannot be, what you cannot face, what you must remain unaware of, so you hire a fantasy, though you don't think this fantasy will help you sleep at night...alone.
