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Statepalace -> RE: From behind (11/28/2007 8:01:35 PM)
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Posted this to my Live Journal account tonight, but it might be approproate here. If not, let me know and I will remove it. Since it was kind of inspired by the OP, well I just thought I would share.
For the last two nights I've come into my house covered in a slick layer of sweat. Not just a light beading of perspiration, but a wonderful, solid layer of wetness all over my neck and chest, down my back and over my shoulders. I've upped the speed of my jogging, and increased (very gradually) the distance, so I'm sweating more. It's made me think about Him and how much He has said that He would like to see me like that.
It's the kind of sweat that reminds me of a certain kind of sex, the kind that you have in late summer when the air is heavy. If you've ever been to New Orleans in August then you know the atmosphere I'm remembering. It's that moment, after the second or third time, when you're both sore and covered in sweat, but can't seem to stop, can't seem to fully satisfy the hunger. When your ass and abdominal muscles are on fire from rocking your hips into their flesh over and over again, and with each stroke you feel the limits of muscle fatigue get closer but the moment is so right that you pray it doesn't end any time soon.
I hear surfers talk about the perfect wave, and I guess you could describe it like that. A moment suspended in time, with both of you so slick with sweat that you can't tell whose it is anymore, just a coating over both of you that blends the skin together. You struggle to get a grip on the other person, struggle for some source of friction, to increase the tempo, but everything is so slippery that palms just end up sliding over spines and down hips. Hands tangle in wet hair, and the sheen of sweat on a jaw or in the curve of a shoulder is just too tempting to pass up. Salt and skin hit the tongue as your mouth glides over those spots, tasting what you are both covered in.
The wetness isn't limited to your skin. It's all encompassing, both of you sliding into and out of (because who can tell the difference between "them" and "I" at this point) this liquid fire where your bodies join. The build up won't, can't go any faster, because neither of you can go any faster, any harder. There's not enough friction, so with each stroke you move only a tiny bit closer to the place where the wave breaks. It's not even about that any longer; it's just about the endless sensation.
Lying there afterwards, tangled so closely that you can feel both hearts beat, is something to savor. When you finally do pull apart, you disconnect with a feeling of hollowness. You feel the places where that wonderful sweat stuck your skin to theirs, and the sensation of peeling apart always gives me goose bumps.
THAT is my favorite position ;)
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