Sexual Content

As a self-proclaimed writer, writing is…just what I do. Journaling is fun, but occasionally feelings need to be interpreted into a very vague, beautiful and complex work of art; otherwise known as literature. Although the topic itself is a little "taboo", the feelings and emotions behind said works of fiction are inherently the same. Please do well to respect what is written here.

Things Are So Much Different.


She turned over on her side, the sheet from her bed falling across her naked breast. Her arm reached out to caress the empty and cold place on the bed beside her; the side of the bed that was supposed to be reserved for a certain someone. The same space that she had longed to see filled for months and years. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she realized things still would never change. It had been so long since her last meeting with him, and still nothing was different. Their paths still crossed, she still longed for him; but nothing was reciprocated. Closing her eyes tight against the sunlight that was now streaming in through her open window, the young woman fought to go back to sleep. In her dreams, he was hers. While she slept, they were always together. They would hold hands, eat a picnic on the beach.. everything romantic that any singer had ever sung about; any poet had ever composed; any author had ever written. All those desires and emotions filtered through her and played out in her slumber. And that's why every night, she looked forward to finding him in her subconscious.

Tossing back and forth beneath her blankets, she eventually gave into the futile aspect of the entire ordeal. There was no possibility of finding sleep again that morning. She had been thoroughly pulled out of her dreams and taken captive in the real world; where he was no longer attached to her, and she still pined for him in silence. Giving into the sunlight, she shoved the blankets off her naked body and slipped out of bed. Grabbing her bathrobe, she slipped into it before slipping down the hallway to her bathroom. She turned on the shower head, waiting patiently for the steam to build up within the small while tiled room. Shrugging out of the robe, she slipped beneath the waterfall of heated water. Each drop cascaded down her body, drenching her hair and exploring her from the very top of her brow to the soles of her feet. A small smile slipped out across her lips as she felt the steady trickle of hot water slide down the length of her spine. Outside of her dream world, this was pure nirvana.

As the young woman shampooed her hair, becoming engulfed in the familiar aromas, her conscious suddenly caught up with a previously hidden moment from one of her dreams that previous night. In a flash of memory like a short film, the woman saw herself in the shower, just as she was at that moment. But she was not alone. He had come to join her; to bathe with her. Her heart within her chest palpitated as she fought to hold on to more of the dreams' memories. His hands had gently traced over her skin, sending tickles of pure energy throughout her body. His hands were rough, but appeared to be smooth at the same time. His touch was not harsh, but one of a most gentle angel. In a final show of passion, he had wrapped his arms around her and consumed her into his muscular hold. He'd clung to her as if clinging to the moment; never wanting to let it go.

The memories stopped abruptly when the young woman realized she was crying. Hot steamy tears camofloaged themselves among the stream of water from the shower head. Gripping the inner lining of the shower curtain, she let out a loud and painful sob; fearing that, if she did not let it out, it would implode within her. Her thoughts raced to real past events between the two of them. She had known for so long that she loved him; long enough that she could not remember a time when she didn't find herself falling for him. He was perfect for her, and yet she was the only one who thought so. He had changed her in so many ways that she could not even express; ways that were almost invisible to everyone but herself. He had changed her attitude on things, her demeanor, her outlook on life. He had made her feel attractive and sexy and adored; even when she had rarely before felt such wonderful emotions. As she continued to cry within the comfort of her solitary shower, she clung to her body for stabilization. She wanted him to be here. She wanted to cling to his body for strength and support, not her own.

Struggling to stop her tears and sadness from completely overwhelming her, she fought her tears. Willing to substitute her sadness with another feeling, she raised her left arm to her naked and damp breast, rubbing it and massaging it with her hand, trying to feel any emotion of arousal. She knew this could be the only way to stop her sadness. Concentrating on the movement of her hand, she eventually felt her breath catch in her throat. With her other hand, she traced her fingers down her front from her chest to her stomach and below her waist. She placed her fore and middle fingers together at the sealed lips of her vagina, gently pressing and escalating into rubbing. She dared not enter; not until she was fully aroused and ready. She continued this façade for several minutes, all the while concentrating on his face. His wavy black hair, his chiseled features, his vibrant blue eyes concentrating on her; watching and digesting her every move; all the while storming with unmistakable passion and lust. It was the eyes she always concentrated on; the very eyes that held her gaze and held such a commanding gaze that both made her blush as made her want to look away. It was those eyes of his that she'd first fell in love with.

Without realizing she had done so, her fingers slipped inside her body. She was thrusting and pulsing, her body reacting with wonder and enjoyment as she continued to stimulate sexual contact from the one she adored. She brought her mind back to focus on the moments from their shared past. The feelings she had felt when he held her; the sensation of having him inside her body; feeling completely alive, as if she could soar the skies on her own happy thoughts, like in Peter Pan. But this was no faerie tale; and this was no real event. As she realized this, the entire world she had fought to build up around that moment came crashing like an earthquake down around her. She lost the moment. She fell into the knowledge that she was alone. He wasn't there with her, and it was unlikely he would ever be again.

Removing her fingers from inside her, the moment lost, tears once again regained their control over her current state. Resting her back against the side of the shower, she slipped slowly down to the floor of the bath. It was no use. He had changed too much about her. His brief moments in her life had altered too much, and she could no longer be satisfied with a simple fantasy. She knew what it was like to have him in her life, and nothing could ever bring those moments back. She would not fight for them, for she knew such a battle would be a one-sided and fruitless effort. His short time with her had simply changed too much in her life that she simply could not ever hope to let go.

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