Kiss Your Own Fingertips

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I’ve forgotten what it’s like to love myself.

To look at myself in the mirror and see beauty instead of flaws.

I’ve forgotten how to love myself.

To touch my flabby and cellulite covered skin and not hate it.

To rub my own feet with thick lotion and not wish that the heels were softer.

To hold my hips and wish I could remove all of the fat inside of them.

To trace my wrinkled hands across my ample breasts and hope that someday a man will behold their beauty again.

To gaze at my face in the mirror and not see wrinkles, but amaze at the brightness of my blue eyes and the perfect symmetry of my lips.

I’ve forgotten how to love myself.

To find that little girl that resides inside and tell her that she’s going to be okay.

That she is loved.

That she is free.

That she is important.

I’ve forgotten how to love myself, but I do hope in time I’ll be able to again.

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I dreamt of you

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I slept naked in the middle of my bed last night. I dreamt of you. It was a simple dream. Nothing erotic. All I can recall is your face and smile. The sound of your laughter. I awoke to find I was alone, but somehow, you were there with me. While I laid alone, naked and shivering. You were there….

As the Inferno Smolders

She stood there, dipper in hand, drinking the endless supply of water from the Artesian well as she watched her ex-lover burn.

She slaked her thirst, while his skin melted and he screamed in agony.

She became more satisfied with each swallow of the precious fluid.

He begged for a few drops, to end his suffering and stop the pain.

She enjoyed watching him writhe too much, and she would not give in.

She regaled in his pain. Enjoyed watching him burn.

The scent of his burning flesh didn’t even effect her. Didn’t make her nauseated. She thought it would, but she found she savored it.

With her thirst quenched, she places the dipper back on the handle of the ancient stone fountain.

His screams have reduced to agonizing moans, yet she feels no remorse.

She stands by the ancient fountain and removes her clothes.

She walks down the steps, and settles her body under the water, with just her head breaking the surface.

He keeps burning, and moaning, but she pays no mind to it.

Soon what was once his body is now only embers.

In her nakedness she stands up, and goes to the pocket of her jeans.

She finds her cigarettes, places one between her lips, leans over what once was his body and says, “May I have a light?”

*Sometimes even us funny writers have a bit of anger in us. Sometimes a friend gives us an idea for a story and we run with it. Thanks Tracy for the idea. I’m glad you liked it.*

With Her Words She Healed Him

Michelle and Michael touched each other in a way that best friends never should. Then again, they never really did touch. However, for one night they gave each other what they needed because they knew their connection was strong. They knew that they could trust each other. That is until Michelle fell for Michael. She had became lost in his words. She believed him when he said she was beautiful. He awakened her soul and her body. Then, she being the silly girl she was, she swooned so hard, she fell and broke her tender heart.

Michelle was online late one night chatting with friends and playing some boring online solitaire game. She saw Michael’s message pop up and responded to him immediately. It always made her heart skip a beat when she saw the green light appear next to his avatar on her social network page.

“You there?”, he asked.

“Of course I am, aren’t I always?” Michelle responded.

“Want to chat for a bit?”, Michael asked.

What a dumb question for him to ask. Of course she wanted to chat with him. She longed to see his words appear in the private message window. He was her best friend, but she loved him too. A little too much sometimes.

“Honey, you know we never chat for a bit”, she said.

He responded with little smiley emoticons. Then they talked about life. How their families were. What was going on at work. About their idiosyncrasies that their spouses never understood.  For some reason they always “got” each other though.  Michelle thought about how over the years they built a great friendship and a strong emotional bond. Michael felt it too. He’d made sure to tell her as much.

They always bantered sexually. It was typical for them to do that. Michelle always felt safe with him. Needed, necessary, smart, and loved. Like she mattered. Michelle had been drinking vodka, so her tongue, words, and body felt loose. Their messaging turned to more intimate talk. More sexual than usual. More primal.  They discussed their sadness over not being touched in such a long time. Of needing to be needed. Desiring to be desired. They wondered what was wrong with them. They kept questioning why. Then Michelle let the vodka take over and started talking dirty.

Michelle asked, “What are you wearing?”

Michael responded, “Pajama pants. You?”

She said, “I’m fully clothed, but I can take something off if you want.”

He said, “Make yourself comfortable and take everything off.”

She laughed and then typed, “Of course I will, I love being naked.”

He responded, “Great, now I have a hard on.”

“Good”, was all she said in response.

Here she was a little drunk, sitting naked in the living room and chatting with her best friend. For some reason it felt right. Like it’s what she was meant to do. She’d always healed with her body, even if it was virtually.

She asked, “What do you want me to do?”

He said, “I haven’t been touched in so long and neither have you. Let’s take care of each other tonight.”

Michelle was scared but knew that she wanted to please him. To please herself. She longed to have him touch her, make her feel alive. Fuck her. But they belonged to others. Michael loved Michelle, but never felt that spark that comes from love and longing. But this night he longed for her, even if it was virtually. So she gave him what he wanted. And ultimately what she wanted.

Michelle said, “I’ve never done this before, please tell me what to do.”

Michael said, “Talk to me like you usually do. Tell me what you’d do to me if you were here, naked, and in bed with me.”

She did. She told him all the things she would do to him. In vivid detail. She knew that it was affecting him because he had stopped typing.

She asked, “Honey are you still there?”

Michael said, “Of course, but you’ve made me feel so good and I’m so close, I can’t type anymore.”

Michelle said, “Then don’t type. I will. I’ll give you my words and you let go for me. I want you to feel me. Like I’m right there with you.”

She kept typing. She kept telling him things she’d do to him if she was in bed with him. She kept telling him that she loved him and wanted nothing more than to please him. To have him please her. He didn’t type anything for a few minutes, but that was okay. She just kept saying how much she wanted him. A few minutes later,  he typed the sweetest words she’d ever seen.

He said, “Thank you for giving me what I needed. You made me feel incredible.”

Michelle replied, “You know Michael, I’m always here for you. I love you.”

“Now it’s your turn”, he said.

She replied, “No honey, I’m good. Knowing that I helped you. That I made you feel good is pleasure enough for me.”

They said their thank yous, and I love yous.  Promised that what they did would never change their friendship and their bond. That night when Michael signed off,  she was still naked and alone. She re-read her words to him, touched herself and came.

At the crescendo of her orgasm, she  yelled to an empty room in all her nakedness and vulnerability, “Michael, I love you!”

When she was done, she saved their messages and then closed down the computer for the night. Threw on a t-shirt and boy shorts. Poured herself a Ketel One on the rocks and slammed it. Crawled into bed, laid there waiting for the let down of the alcohol and cried herself to sleep.

Flitting of Moth’s Wings

“I belong to another”, the goddess of fire said.

“It’s the end of our world, so that no longer matters”, the god of air replied.

They stand, inches apart. Naked. Their pale skin already burning from the morphing of the moon. It is an inferno. The sun, the star that used to warm them, is cold. Dead.

The goddess is with her god, finally. She knows she has always been his number one. No other goddess ever compared to her. Her beauty or her light. He always mattered to her. She always wanted more. But was tied to another life.

She professes love; obsession. Want and need. All of it, without fear.

His dark eyes bore into her violet ones. He says nothing and everything, with his gaze. He responds by leaning forward, brushing his lips on hers. It feels like the flitting of a moth’s wings near an open flame. That’s all she needs to confirm the intensity of his love for her.

They grasp each other’s bodies in want. In need. They only have a few moments. They cherish every second by kissing, touching, fondling. This is their destiny.

The end is coming soon, but they do not fear it. For they know that it is their beginning.

With their confessions given, the moon explodes. Their bodies catch fire, but their souls ascend. They become light, energy, and after life.

With their world ending, a new one begins and their love becomes infinite.