So Crazy

I'm lying down right now, thinking about everything. I'm lying down on his bed, looking around, trying to get some kind of grasp about what he's like when no one's around. I'm waiting for him to come back while I think about what I'm going to do, all the things I want to do. I think about the line, the in depth discussions about what we wanted to do to the line. I think about how we want to push it, pull it, bend it, break it, twist it, adjust it to accommodate what we want to do, jump over it, rub against it. I'm closing my eyes, opening them again, staring at his ceiling, thinking about what I want to do and how I shouldn't do it. I readjust myself, and then move again trying to get comfortable.

I hear the door open, see him come in, see him walk toward me. My mind is racing, and yet blank at the same time with the thought of only one thing. The thing I've been thinking about all day. The thing we've talked about on the phone. I feel my breath getting shallow as he puts his hand on my face, leaning toward me. I feel it. I feel his lips touching mine so little that it may not look like a kiss at all, but I feel his bottom lip follow the path of mine. He's trying to make me work for it. He's trying to make me crave it. He's biting, tasting, nibbling on my lips. This is it right here. The time when whispers are allowed. The cliché spine tingling you feel when you haven't had one of those moments in a long time. The feeling that determines what's there and what will never be.

His hand crawls up my thighs, across the trails of my pelvis, over my stomach, up to my neck, and then up to my face. It feels so good, yet so bad. This is the part that's dangerous. The part where our hands wander, trickle of the edge of your jeans, skip over the top of your underwear. This is the part that drives you crazy with anticipation of what's going to come next. This is the time when you close your eyes and let the sensory experience begin. This is the time when all your other senses take over, and this is the time when all you can think about is all the things you want to touch, feel against you.

I lift up the bottom of his shirt, let the tips of my hair tease his stomach, let him feel my breath on his pelvis, let him feel my mouth at the top of his pants, let him feel my fingers tease the hairs on his stomach. He doesn't know what I'm going to do, if I'm going to do anything. I feel his body shudder as I creep up once again and lean in to his ear. I tell him that I want to do so many things to him. I whisper to him that it's fun to torture him. I think about how badly I want to remove the line, break the line, adjust the line again.

I breathe heavier as he grabs my wrist, pins me down, sucks gently on my neck. I feel like I'm going crazy as I feel his fingertips travel up my inner thigh, up to my navel. I scratch his back, I gasp, I feel like a prisoner in my own body craving the climax. I feel him undo the button on my jeans, tugging them gently down until my legs are free. I'm vulnerable, lying there, subject to the complexities of the little game we're playing. His hand moves up my inner thigh again. I feel myself shake, needing it, wanting it, having to have it as I feel his lips travel the length of my body to the most sensitive part of me. I feel myself gasp, outside my own body, my hands digging into the back of his neck, grabbing for his shoulders.

It's indescribably amazing. I have the feeling of his lips, his skin, his hands, making me quiver, giving me the goose bumps that have pebbled the skin of my body. My toes are curling, my body aching for him. I want to feel him in every way. I want him to feel me. It's driving me crazy. I pull him up to face me and he rolls on his back. I straddle him, grind against him, tease him. I feel his hands cling on to my thighs, run down to my calves, grabbing at them. It's the point in time where your body throbs so badly it almost hurts. It's the point in time when you want it so bad you're afraid your body will seize.

I undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one. I undo the buttons slowly. I want to win. I want to torture him as badly as he's been torturing me all night, with those adorable smirks and smiles; that adorable grin and that adorable laugh; those tantalizing whispers that have been driving me crazy. I undo the button of his pants, tugging them down. I feel the warmth of his body against my exposed flesh. I feel what he's been hiding, adjusting since we started this little game. I want to feel it so badly.

I graze my fingers against him, against it. I pull down his boxers, and continue my little game, but this time with my lips, my mouth, my tongue. I want him to know how it feels. I want to feel him shake before we remove this line completely. I want him to beg for it, to work for it, to want it as badly as I want it. I feel him grab my hair as I continue to make him feel as good as he makes me feel. He can't take it anymore.

He pulls me up to meet his face and this is where the game ends. This is the time when we feel the sensation we've been wanting to feel all night. This is the moment we've built up to. I feel him, almost unexpectedly, and all of a sudden the floodgates open faster than expected. I feel him feel me. I feel my back arch, my eyes close. I feel his hands creep up to my chest. I feel him breath heavily. This challenge, this game, is finally over. I've won.