Apr 08, 2016 23:59
icon: "concupiscent (a photo of Angelina Jolie, backlit in sunlight, licking honey off of their wrist while staring intensely into the camera)"
I yearn for someone to crave me. To want to put their hands on me and when they touch my skin, to forget themselves just a little and dig in with their fingertips because it feels so fucking good to have that contact. I want someone to intend just to give me a back pet in passing but then feel such magnetic pull that they stop, slide their hands around my waist, stroke my hips and grip them, kiss my shoulder, nuzzle my neck, wrap their arms around me, and bite me. I want someone to kiss me and get lost in it, forget everything else and revel in the sensation of my lips and tongue. I want someone to want to give me every pleasurable sensation, and to want to receive from me every pleasurable sensation. I want someone to want to be immersed in my energy, to want to feel my presence permeating theirs. I want someone to crave my hands on them and my lips on theirs and my body against theirs. I want them to want me to sink my teeth into them, to dig my claws into them. I want them to want to (for a short time) take over my self completely, and to want the inverse. I want them to want blending of energy within sex to the point that we're not sure which limb belongs to who, and I want them to be able to be present enough for that to be possible. I want them to want all of me, all of me, all of me, and I want them to want to share all of them, all. I want to intertwine with them and feel our breaths and our frequencies sync up.
All of this within the context of a mutually in-love relationship, not with any random person. I don't think I could want this with someone I wasn't in love with. I try imagining this with someone I am not currently in love with and my mind balks and throws darts at me. The feeling, if I am not in love, is that same jolt of badness that happens when I am touched with sexual intentions when I haven't had enough platonic loving touch. It's too shocking and intense to be enjoyable; the difference between sliding into a cool pool on a hot day or getting thrown into a cold pool on a freezing day.
I fall in love really easily, or at least I used to. I feel worried that that part of me is damaged with too many almosts that scalded me. I'm worried I've lost the knack of it. Strange I guess. I'm really afraid to hope.
If I can't fall in love again, if I've gotten too picky or too scared just too fuckin damaged, then I can't imagine wanting sex with other people any more. And I feel like there are so many things I barely got to try. The more I think about the idea of casual sex the more I hate it. I think it would make me feel nothing but a giant sense of loss and lack.
demisexual musings,
sensuality,
sex,
touch,
romance