Saturday Morning Lust.

A rainy November Saturday morning found me next to him. Under my covers, I watched him sleep peacefully, his chest slowly filling with air. My fingers outlined his face starting with his forehead, then to his apple cheeks, to his nose, and finally to his perfectly full lips.

Raindrops beat violently against the window beside my bed.

The bitter cold stung my skin as I lifted the covers off my head. I quickly pulled the covers back over my head and closed my eyes, hoping and waiting for sweet slumber to consume me. Instead, he pulled me into his body. His warmth took total control of me.

My legs tangled themselves between his; my thighs squeezed tightly around his. My fingers lightly skimmed up his back, and ran themselves through his hair. His fingers interlocked together, imprisoning me between his arms.
My lips slowly, softly sucked his neck. It's near impossible to control myself when his body is near mine.

His fingers gripped a handful of my bare behind and squeezed tightly. He let go and I felt his fingers drag against my naked skin. Each inch of my skin that his fingers glided over oozed with sensation, producing goosebumps. His heavy hand lightly squeezed my hips, making the nerves throughout my body tingle.

He gently pressed his lips against my forehead as I opened my eyes and pulled back. His very touch intoxicated me and hypnotized my body.

We spent the entire Saturday in bed, next to one another, without thinking about what needed to be done, or where we should have been. We talked for hours. About everything and nothing. I drowned in the bass of his voice. 

The wind continued to whistle through the almost bare branches of the tree beside the window. I could hear the turmoil that mother nature had brought outside my very windows, but I felt safe beside him.

I have never experienced lust like this before.

This lust broke my heart.

My Stranger Friend.

I woke up to the sound of the violent rain smashing itself against any and every surface it could possibly find. I didn't want to open my eyes but rain has always been absolutely alluring to me, so I fell victim to my fascination. Captivated by the rain, I turned to face the windows and stared longingly out at the grey that occupied the space outside the windows. The buildings that were usually visible, were hidden by the rain and fog.

I was jealous that he had such big windows, while I possessed absolutely none in my apartment.

I sat up, drew my knees up under my chin, gathered the covers around my bare body, and continued to be hypnotized by the pouring rain and the persistent pitter-patter it made against the surfaces. He stirred in his sleep behind me and turned to face my back. I could feel his almost-silent breaths between the sheets.

It was only 8AM; I had a raging headache and was exhausted. I felt like I was in one of those frosted snow globes. I forced myself back down, back into his arms, back to sleep. They were strong and firm, even in slumber.

It was still raining when I woke up hours later. I nudged him and told him the fooball games were starting soon and he should wake up for them. He grunted, obviously reluctant, but got up nonetheless. I asked him if he had heard the rain earlier. He hadn't. He asked me if I had been awake since then. I lied and told him I hadn't. He turned the TV on and walked over to his desk to plop himself in front of his laptop. I rolled myself up in his blanket and channel hopped between games with few exchanges of words.

I now realize that we don't really talk or ever have anything really profound or meaningful to say to one other. Though I've known him for over a year, I feel as if I know nothing about him at all. It's like sleeping with a stranger.

My stranger friend.