Friday, January 20, 2012

A Beautiful Nightmare



Chapter: 01

Cadence.

       His thoughts crept into her room like dust waiting to settle in an ancient tomb.  It penetrated the walls, condensed like water off of furniture fit to be buried with kings.  His thoughts lingered on every stray current of air, turning back on themselves as if unsure of what its purpose was.  They rose and swirled around in the darkness like a near-frozen vortex that centered over the massive bed.  Eleantra laid still beneath him, alone, small and vulnerable, pretending to sleep soundly.  She could feel the hesitation in his thoughts.   Did he know she was waiting?
       It took everything she had to keep her eyes closed, and she felt the darkness caress her face.  She concentrated instead on her breathing, trying hard to keep her breaths deep and even despite the furious pumping of her heart.  She listened to the empty sounds of her room: the air conditioner feeding the vents, the gentle ticking of her grandmother’s antique clock in the far corner.  In that midnight sea of air she could feel his thoughts building together, gathering like snow on a mountain.  Growing from a million fragments until together it created something both wonderful and dangerous.
       Eleantra could feel his thoughts coming to a point near her bed even as he still watched everything around them.  He was like a god within the confines of her small insulated world.  A powerful shot of his presence rippled through the space between them like a silent thunderclap and she felt the air shift around him one final time.  He had become whole in mind.  Even blinded by the darkness and secluded behind her own eyelids, she could feel that his consciousness hovered just over her bedside lamp.  He stared down at her with a million unblinking eyes.
       His thoughts reached out to touch her.  She felt a kind of electricity start to float over her skin.  It began at her feet and spread up her ankles, tingling her shins and calves.  The body pillow she laid curled against suddenly felt transparent.  Her sheets and the duvet covering her felt light as air.  Her night clothes, a grey silk top and pants, suddenly went cold as the wash of electricity made her feel deliciously naked.  Everywhere his mind lingered within the darkness became exposed and laid open for him to see.  His phantom gaze rose up to her knees, then down to her lower calves, turning to the tops of her thighs.  His electric touch drifted slowly down to her toes and then traced every inch of her hands, and lingered on her fingertips.  The pace started to quicken, as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on… no, trying to view her all at once.  He was pressing against her as if in a dream, never wanting to be awakened.
       She felt his eyes on her, his electricity as it left her legs and jumped to her arms.  It danced from fingertip to wrist, elbow to bicep, then retreated along the path it claimed.  It moved from left to right and back again.  She started to feel lightheaded, and realized that she’d stopped breathing a moment before a gasp, barely more than a moan, escaped her lips.  His mind instantly retreated and the full weight of her pajamas and sheets fell back against her as she tried to recover and bring her breathing back to normal.
       As her rhythm returned she could still feel him in the room with her, but he was further away now, over by the bay windows that overlooked Geonosis.  The electricity still reverberated across her skin and it made her feel warm, her mind tingled with a swarm of memories she would never utter aloud.  The window…there had been nights alone in her room, standing in front of that window discovering the kinds of pleasure her own fingers could bring her.  She had looked out over the teeming metropolis with the drapes spread wide and tethered.  The lights of the city reached up to touch her naked breasts while she had them cupped them in her hands.  She had wondered then how many people were looking back up at her window near the stars never knowing what she was about to do.
       The windows stretched from ceiling to floor and after she had knelt against the edge of the glass, she had pressed her hardening nipples to the cold surface, offering them to anyone who could see.  Her hands had then drifted over her stomach and followed her thighs to the carpet before moving slowly toward her core.  Millions of people were out there, living more than a thousand feel below her.  Hundreds of other women had to have been feeling the same thing that she had, teasing the growing wetness, slowly building their need toward ultimate release.  She remembered bringing her fingers up to her lips, her left hand had cradled her chin, the right rested against her abdomen.  Both index fingers traced the lines of her lips, one side and then the other, left to right, top to bottom.  Her eyes had closed to slits and the flickering of the city lights blurred when her fingers found their way inside her.  Even as she imagined the orgasms washing through the night below her, marching to her time, feeling her pulse, she envisioned them all climaxing together.
       Now alone with his mind in her room, the world was locked out behind the drapes.  She felt her hands move and realized her fingers had passed the junction between her thighs and that his mind had begun to examine her again.  There could be no denying that she was awake now, but still he remained.  The slow fire under her skin burned brighter now that he didn’t turn away like the other nights.  He watched from his perch over by the window, a tangled and fragmented mess of thoughts.  She felt a strange mix of fear and anticipation radiating out of him.  He was on the edge of retreat, looking for the smallest hint that she realized he was there, the merest suspicion that would have sent him chasing after the morning.  It was in that moment that her mind chose to surface another memory that thrilled her fingertips just as they found the wet silk hiding underneath her blanket.
       She pressed her fingers deep against the cloth and heat met her through the silk, leaving behind a sweet dampness.  She wondered how much of her activity remained clandestine to him, how far his mind could see through the darkness.  She wondered what he would do if she threw back the covers, peeled her clothes off and opened the curtains.  If she knelt before the glass again with him just a few feet away, reliving those nights she  had spent alone.  Would his mind explode into the recesses of the night or would that same electricity return to caress her nipples as she drove her fingers into herself.  Pumping herself higher toward the edge of madness as he helped her along her way.  Her forehead could be pressed against the glass and she’d watch her nipples rise and fall on the ends of her breasts while her fingers struck into her deeper than they’d ever gone, working her body toward a shuddering orgasm.
       And so what if he did watch her come?  She felt a wild abandon claim over her.  He wasn’t really there with her, no more than the millions of people living in the city below her windows were.  And he was deathly afraid of something, no…not something, he was afraid of her, of her finding out he was there.  There was no mistaking the movements of her hands beneath the duvet now or the sound of her breathing growing faster and shallower.  The sound?  Could he even hear the sound of her flesh dripping against the wet silk?
       She could feel the hunger in his mind, the indecision.  He was being torn between watching, waiting, and some other nameless fear.  Her other hand reached out from beneath her pillow and grabbed roughly at her breasts, one and then the other.  Her nipples stiffened against the assault.  Her other hand was pressed between her thighs and she locked it there, grinding her hips up even as she pressed her knees together to slow the inevitable.  She wanted to hold out a little longer, to make him twist there in his darkened little corner of her room.  He’d brought this upon himself, after all, sneaking into her private room, unannounced, uninvited, and before that very moment…unwanted.  She pushed up at the top to her pajamas and kicked the covers down.  She  knew now that he wasn’t going to run no matter what she did.  His fear had gripped him too tight, infused with his lust.  It had become an anchor he wouldn’t release no matter how far down it pulled him.
       She felt the air stir against her skin and it fed a fire in her that only served to make her wetter.  Her moisture leaked between her lips and beaded toward the bed, licking the skin of her anus along the way in long gentle trails.  Her fingers found her nipples again and squeezed hard enough to pull each breast up and away from her body while her other hand slipped under her waistband and deftly sunk three fingers inside herself to the third knuckle.   She plunged them rapidly, her breath catching in her throat.  Her eyes fluttered opened at once, crazed with a desperate need to be fulfilled.  She felt her muscles lock  and she caught her breath as the mattress fell away from her.  It was a few minutes before she felt her body start to relax.  Her orgasm lingered as she withdrew her fingers and released her nipple.   She felt it throb against the mouth of the darkness surrounding her.
       His mind was still in the room, but it wasn’t near the window anymore.  She tried hard to pin him down, to find exactly where he was but he’d turned to water in her hands, slipping away faster the harder she tried to hold onto it.  He was everywhere and nowhere, hiding from her so completely that her mind simply gave up.  She smiled thinly to herself.  She’d aroused a passion in unlike anything she thought had existed before.  It was like the lights of the city suddenly stared back and wanted to take her.  She felt him withdrawing further until he’d faded into the darkness as silently as he’d arrived.  Her eyelids fell closed and she drifted along the edges of a beautiful dream.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Real and Imagined




       There is something compelling about real people living out their sexual fantasies.  Real people in real poses doing what feels natural to them.  Real photographs are so vastly superior to the staged wax-coated illusions that flood the media.  It'd polluted our minds with a false ideal of real beauty.  Everyone is attracted to a different beacon of perfection: tall, short, blond, shaved, full, sleek, or curvy.  It isn't just my biased view either, the evidence lives in every photograph that can capture our imaginations and make us not only pulse with desire, but also with wonder at what else may be happening just past the edges of the frame that we can't see.  It's in seeing people like us, living out what we only wish we could if we could just be like them.  I have news for you, we ARE them.
       I think that we need to encourage our sexual imaginations.  We need to feed them and give them something that brings them out of the closed little world we hide them in.  There have been far too many times that I have heard about men, women, and couples who never experiment with each other or themselves.  They never push their own boundaries to see what lies outside of their comfort zones.  There are experiences out in the world for the taking, waiting for us all.
       There's strength in numbers, and we're not alone.

       This shot was also taken with a Canon Powershot SX10.  The picture was altered using an iphone app called Colorsplash.  The photo session was unscripted and some of the most fun I've ever had in photography.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

First of a thousand words.


       Pictures are the truest way to measure what we see in the world around us.  They are a way to capture a moment in time, preserve it, and experience it again whenever we choose.  It also affords us a way to share that moment with others.
       The picture shared in this post was taken a few years ago with a Canon Powershot SX10.  The room was horribly lit, drastically yellow from floor to ceiling, and of the hundreds of clicks from the digital lens only a handful of noteworthy creations appeared.  What made this photograph salvageable was a careful edit starting with a wash in black and white.  The sides were cropped to take out some of the background clutter and a close-up spot check was done to remove any blotches on the model's skin.