The Invention Of Romance

      We stood together in the center of the room, with the carpet in between our toes, our shirts off, and our tongues and lips smashed together. It felt like the most erotic thing, standing there with her. The only word to describe the moment, I suppose, would be passion. The feel of her soft, warm cheeks brushing by mine to rest her chin on my shoulder made me feel like the only working match in a box of thousands of duds.
      I could sense her eyelids closing slowly, like she was in a state of complete physical and emotional bliss. The walls evolved into all these warm and earthy colors. They just made me hold her tighter, pressing her breasts against my chest. I could only feel the rough fabric of her bra. I sighed in slight disappointment. I wished I had the strength to pull it off of her, but I was too passionately comfortable, like a limp, sleepy pup in its owners arms.
      Her hair must have been on fire, it felt so warm pressed between the feathery skin of her back and the healing flesh of her lovers arm. We started swaying back and forth, as easy, and as romantic as we could, dancing, although we were still bonded together, as if someone used far too much glue to push two pieces of construction paper together, leaving the wet goose bumps to show through them.
      Her scent made me sink, I don't know where I go after it rolls through my nose, numbing the rest of my knotted body. Maybe a silent place, high above earth. It's moments like that when I know no one accept her and I will feel this. She whispered my name for her.
"Baby." The statement almost sounded like a question, there was some insecure fear in her voice. Her gorgeous, calming voice. She made my nerves shake, not rattle, though.
"I love you." Those were the three words I could pull out of my head.
      I clutched the back of hers, holding it, buried in my shoulder, still swaying back and forth in the quiet strides of our hips. The thing was, we looked so silly standing in the middle of our bedroom, me in my boxers, and her in her black bra and underwear, but it also looked as if we were the couple who invented romance. I wanted to sweat on silk.
      Her next action confused me. She took a step back and asked for my hand in hers. I thought she possibly wanted me to brush the hair out of her face and bright green eyes, so I did it for her. My hand was captured by hers. She slid my finger-tips down her neck, down her tummy, past and under the waistband of her underwear. I watched her eyes close and kind of roll back into her head, like they did when she felt pleasure. Her knees began to shake, as did the rest of her body. She was starting to collapse. All I could do was put my remaining hand behind her and push one of my fingers inside her waist, then watch her fall back into my hand as I swung her in bed.
      Even though she was moaning some of the loudest moans I had ever heard coming from her shouting teeth, even though she was on her back with her legs spread desperately gripping and scratching the sides of my body, I was caught in that moment. The moment she fell back in my hand leading to me swinging her ragged, beautiful body on that bed. I wished everybody could have seen it. Her hair fell behind my arm in a pretty, Victorian ivy plant, her chin remained pointing to her chest dangling below where it normally stands, tempting me to throw her on her knees, her lips...oh god. Her lips never looked so spotless, her tongue moist and her teeth as white as the wall behind us, the gleaming dampness that showed off her neck down to her perfect, clothed breasts, the flawless way she tilted and fell back into my arm,  until she opened her eyes in shock and gave that pleasurable little smile, even down to the sweaty thighs and the way her thong looked awkwardly dented outward from the four knuckles still outside of her, not quite sheltered like the fifth knuckle in the warm, wet, tight space that makes her lose control of her vocals and all the nerves in her gorgeous legs and tummy, every precise detail was so memorable.
      I felt empowered, I felt like I were hers, and I was. I was going to make her scream, if I didn't, I was going to make her punish me, but that wouldn't be necessary. For her, I imagine the ceiling must be warping into funny shapes about now. She said little when I began to pull her underwear down, closer and closer to her ankles. In fact, she said nothing, I think the amount of pleasure she was feeling was so intense, she didn't realize I stopped. I think she still felt that one long finger. The pleasure must have been so on-going, that must've been why.
      That was only of coarse, until I swabbed the back of my tongue on the place I spoke of before, that makes her nerves vibrate, like the toy she repetitively uses, and makes her vocals lose control of what they are doing.  There was such a recherche pattern on her eye-lids. She looked so surprised, yet so quiet and aroused in the small black bra she had been wearing. I could hear the little puffs of air protruding from her, and finally, her back arching so high, I could no longer see her perfect, slightly bouncing breasts, or her face that may have been sculpted by an inspired goddess.
      Her cracking spine didn't stay that way for long, thank god. It kept leaping down from its highest peak, and climbing its way back up. The room was hot, everything caught fire, her tummy, her sweating chest, the thing that was warmest, though,was the place my tongue couldn't get enough of, and the liquid that seemed to find its way out of her lovely, trembling body. She looked at me for a second, she couldn't speak, but she tried.
      I wasn't planning on letting her speak, either. Not until the gates opened and the water rushed out. But that look she gave me, I could tell what she wanted to say to me.

Either fuck me, or my mouth is going in your boxers.

      That made me look at myself, tilting my head downward. My boxers were protruding further from my body than I had ever seen. That's why she threw that sexy glance, she wanted it too. She wanted the feeling of something thick pushing between her legs, something long enough to hit the spot she loves so much. I'd never wanted to do it so badly. It was so hard to take my mouth away from that taste.
      I stood up, with the button of my boxers undone because of how intensely heated I became. She just stared at it with her bottom lip tucked under her upper jaw. She must have realized what I was thinking about while tasting her body. Oh...how elegant of a taste. I was thinking about the sensation of her mouth, or her hand rubbing against the bulge in my boxers. I was thinking of so many things at once, while keeping in touch with reality.
"Take your bra off," I demanded.
      She didn't say a word. she knew I didn't want her to speak. I watched her do just that while I slipped my boxers onto the old carpet. I just wanted to see her whole body unclothed, I wanted her to see the look on my face when I saw them gleaming with salty and unpurified sweat. None of this is ever purified until it's boiled, and it would be. She knew that look, the look of wanting to control the situation, the one that always said:

Scratch me, beg me with your beautiful body. Let me lick the sweat off of your chest.

      She opened her mouth and moaned. I didn't know why, nothing was touching her, not even herself. I thought she looked so helpless, so desirable, with one arm above her head, the other slowly panning its way down her neck. I knew where it was going. I leaned over, grabbed it, and threw it back over her head. She looked at me for a moment, like I was rude for doing so. She giggled, I didn't realize why she did this, before my belly twitched. What seemed so large and pleasurable to her had been tickling her belly.
      I didn't want her to giggle, I wanted her to bit her lip again, just until it bled a bit. I pressed it against her body, pinning her hands to the bed. She wasn't going to move a muscle. I rubbed it up and down her, occasionally meeting her belly-button, and I watched her bite her lip again. I just wanted to feel the soft, sweating skin of her steam-producing body on what was going to pierce her. Slipping up and down, it felt so incredible. I wanted to see her mouth open. I wanted her voice to raise hell.
      I told her to open her eyes, and I looked into them, all I saw was deep passion and trust. I saw them looking directly through me, mocking me, like she knew everything I was going to do before I did it. She didn't realize I was in control. Keeping her hands pinned, I pushed myself in between her legs. Her eyes opened wider, as did her legs and mouth. she didn't see it coming. She screamed and she kept screaming until I shoved my tongue back in her mouth. Her arms slipped, she must have thought I loosened my grip, but I tightened. I rubbed my tongue with hers in little circles. I never moved my hips, and neither did she, she just wanted to know how solid I was, she wanted to know how bad I wanted to excite her. I wanted the pressure of that tight space close and massage the only enlarged part of my body. I loved the clenching feeling of being her world. She was right, I wanted to excite her more than she had ever been.
      So I did, I ran my tongue out of her lips, down her neck and onto the lonely, unripened  tomato color of her chest and started pounding my hips against hers. Only one of her breasts heaved up and down. The other was being controlled by my lips, swiping the sweat off of her. The ringing in my ears was enough to cause pain, she screamed so god damn loud. I didn't want to stop this, ever. I wanted it to last years, I wanted us to watch the world go by forever, watching the ice cream sky turn into something like a shriveled raisin. I wondered if I felt like I had a deadly fever to her. I wished we were in a field of nothing but dirt, watching and feeling some flowers bloom from underneath our bodies and all around us while we recreated passion and romance, love and trust. She wanted the same. I could tell by the way her thighs began hugging my body, while their muscles tensed, squeezing me tighter. Her chin started to quiver, little pops of oxygen leaking out of her throat. I wanted to suck the steam finding its way out of every pore of her. I could almost taste a salty river gushing out of her already.
      Then something happened that had never occurred before. She noticed my grip had loosened do to the fact that I hadn't been paying attention, getting lost in her closed eyes and her harsh moans. She quickly lost her arms in the sheets of the bed, out of my demanding hands. Then she pushed one half of me over, rolling on top of me. She out-muscled me. How filthy, amorous. Not noticing my face, my slightly angered expression, or the way I attempted to snatch her and place her back below my chest, her hair quickly scurried down my belly.
      She put me in her mouth. Nothing was softer, or warmer. Her tongue had a feel of ruined suede. I couldn't do anything but scream and shout, and whine and vellicate in the same manner I do when I feel this irrational. She softly placed her fingers on my thighs, scaling lower, which only made me feel more egotistical, she could handle me though. The way she so delicately raised and lowered her lips, the way her teeth glided vertically inside my legs, the way her humid, water-drenched and tar-paved cove rubbed against me, it reminded me of nothing. Nothing and no one will ever do a thing to compare to the eroticism we so carefully put together. She handled me like a person would handle an ancient, dried and crumpled scroll made of papyrus. Gently.
      Her mouth pulled away, and she gazed into me for a moment. She crawled up my body, letting me feel her warm breasts against it. Her pink lips tickled my ear. She whispered some words. Just one, complete sentence. I pray she never repeats it again, my god. Her speech was flawless. The literature gave off an intense bouquet of affection that made my legs start an earthquake. My voice had never cracked or broken the way hers so often does. I lost control of everything. Every nerve of mine convulsed. She climbed off, scooting further away from me.
      Then she leaned over on her hands and knees. I was hypnotized, staring at her palm while she neatly placed it on her bottom, pulling, sort of, opening her body so I could see every inch. She whispered two words. I did what she asked, I was thrusting myself inside her. Her breasts bounced and tossed throughout her chest. They did so with each and every pleasurable sensation we felt.

____________

      Every emotion is rushing back to the plasma sprinting through the blood in every muscle of my bending figure, the field of dirt and all the flowers, everything. God I love this. She is starting to scream, her muscles are getting stiff, her yelps are becoming more high-pitched with every lunge, the house is crumbling to the ground like I wished. And there it is...the fine release of all problems and bothers we both feel at the same spiritual second. The dams gates are opening, and the rivers water feels so good on what created it.
      I'm slowly backing away now. Her river is shifting its flow, down her legs and perspiring thighs. I tell her to stand up while I hoist myself up getting closer to her knees and push her against the wall, because I don't have the strength to catch her collapsing body anymore.
      My tongue is always immediately attracted to that fluid, so sweet. I love to lick and tongue it off of her, and she loves the way I do it. Like honey-suckle flowers in grade school. Natural and nectareous, always pleasing. It was a good thing I had her on the wall, her knees may have buckled until she hit the bed.
      I looked up at her, and she looked down onto me with her smile lighting my state of mind, and then it slowly dimmed. I still feel like her one, lucky match head, the only one that ever worked for her, the only one that could brighten a dark tunnel  if she were lost, scared for her life, the one that surprised her after skimming through a whole box and could give her sincere pleasure and happiness.

"I love you, baby." I said it in the most serious way I could, watching her jet black hair sweep over her shoulder.
"I love you too," she said with a glint in her eye, looking straight through my apparent clear skin tone.

      She wouldn't expect this. I grab her legs and swing her to the only remaining pillow on the bed, the both of us smiling like its our honeymoon. I pull my waist between her thighs, and start to kiss her, brushing her cheek with my finger.
"You're beautiful," I said, whispering, of coarse, trying to make it mean the world to her. I began kissing her again before she could tell me she disagrees. I didn't want her to lie to herself tonight.