August 18, 2015

I Want to Be Naked with You. {Adult}

Warning: Adult content!


Yes, we only just met, and it’s probably a little too soon to ask you this, but will you get naked with me?

We can sit here and enjoy our chai, talking for hours about where you grew up, how many siblings we each have and what kind of music we listen to.

Of course, I want to know all of those things. I also want to know your favorite color, if you’re a side or a back sleeper, if you like to cuddle, if you sing in the shower and about the last time you fell in love—was it slow and gradual, or fast and dramatic?

I have more questions.

Will you lay on the beach with me, somewhere warm, and be content doing nothing but soaking up the sun? Do you have an intense longing inside your soul? If so, what for? Can I help you find it? Will you help me open my heart?

As we walk by the creek and listen to the water, I feel my stomach sink a little when we hold hands for the first time.

Sitting on rocks we play in the dirt with sticks—I’m drawing patterns of the nothingness in my mind, as I’m completely in this moment with you. My belly is full of breath, there is a twinge of nervousness inside, and I embrace it, because I want to feel it all with you.

Our eye contact is sporadic, as I’m not sure if I’m ready for you to see me.

Will you like what you see? Will you like me when the tears come for what seems like no reason at all?

(I should warn you that sometimes they don’t stop.)

Will you wipe them away and hold me? Or bring me chocolate? Will we get so close in our embrace that you feel my sadness swelling up inside of you, as if you’ve stepped inside my body for just a moment.

You want to kiss me—I can tell by the way your breath is a little heavier, as your eyes travel down my cheeks and towards my lips. I want to kiss you too, but I rethink it and keep talking.

Will you be man enough to turn off this conversation? Tell me to shut up, so you can kiss me, and taste the ginger mint on my breath?

I think for a moment about writing a story about falling in love with curly haired red heads on the edge of Boulder creek.

Finally, you distract me, leaning over your rock and pulling me with my shirt towards you.

You relax, as though you finally have what you’ve been so desperately craving—my lips pressed against yours, our tongues striking up a perfect “getting to know each other” conversation in our mouths. Then, just as I acknowledge the tingling in my stomach, raindrops hit my cheek, and your ears, and we both look up towards the sky as it starts to rain.

We huddle together under your jacket to keep both of us from getting soaked from the spontaneous Colorado storm.

Your arms wrapped around me feels wonderful, and you are wonderful. I want to remember this feeling of simplicity, calm and excitement—not knowing anything about you.

Because despite not knowing things about you, you are not a stranger to me—therefore, I suggest that what we need to do is get naked.

I know you can see it in my eyes, like I see it in yours. This isn’t another casual encounter, nor do I want it to be. So let’s take it all off and dive in.

Let’s get comfortable on a soft and plush cushion, to get to know each other, you know—the real way. We’ll use nothing but our senses as a guide. I’ll lay down next to you, and you’ll lay down next to me, and the rest?

Well, that will be history.

Take off your shirt, please, even though it’s a beautiful shade of blue. Yes, it matches your eyes, but please remove it—I don’t want anything to block our hearts from speaking.

They try to reach each other as we embrace, taking their communication beyond any level of talking, to a more intimate space. So intense, they pulse as hard as they can, trying to break free of their cages.

Initially, we try to tame them—to put them back in their place, to slow down our breathing, to count to ten, to use our logical judgement and let our minds intervene. Little do our minds know that our hearts don’t belong to rational thought. They support every essence of our very being—they don’t have a moment to stop and think—they’re rhythmic work knows no end until death, and death is not where we’re going, my dear.

Not today.

Today, we’re going to get naked.

Before I touch you, I look at you, from head to toe—taking in not only what my eyes will let me see, but more importantly, what’s present in the space between us, the words that I want to say but can’t. Hopefully the look in my eyes says it all.

Those eyes of yours are like the bluest piece of agate—my favorite gem in a treasure box of jewels—so multidimensional, their intensity assures me that you have the ability to take in a lot of light and dark, and so I trust you to look upon me.

I want you to see all of me, so I will strip for you and dangle my vulnerability, like a g-string on my finger for you to stare at, crave and play with.

For you, I’ll take off all of my layers, because I want to know what it feels like to surrender to your compassionate gaze.

Unable to restrain my hands from exploring—my touch surprises you, excites you and makes you nervous, because you know there’s nowhere else to go. This is where you’re meant to be, and it’s scary.

You want to roll over onto your stomach and hide under a blanket, or at the very least look away. Yet, you feel my fingertips traveling across your skin—you’re so smooth and pale, like butter.

I press myself against you, to determine if my cardamom and honey flavor mixes well with your buttery goodness.

Of course it’s the perfect combination—delicious.

My left hand discovers a mole on your lower back, but I don’t want to embarrass you, so I don’t mention it. (If you only knew that it will forever be one of my favorite parts of you.) I add that as a star on the map I keep in my mind of you.

Looking back on this in the future, I’ll consider that discovery the moment I unlocked the desire to memorize the constellations of freckles across your skin with my mouth.

I play connect the dots with my lips until you squirm, and moan my name in a way that lets me know that the only place in the world you want to be is here.

As I kiss you, your toes tingle, and your entire body vibrates with frustration that it can’t get close enough to me, but we enjoy the moment one kiss at a time. You taste like candy, and as I suck on your fingertips, they become the last treat on earth I want to taste.

You have an inkling suspicion that I have a sweet tooth, and you are right.

You are my favorite indulgence.

I breathe heavily in your ear—how badly I want you.

Can you feel my hot breath whispering through you? With one motion I inhale deeply, and the space between us disappears, as does everything around us.

This is why I want to be naked with you—our synchronicity, our open hearts, our wandering hands—I have no attention left for anything that isn’t a part of you, becoming part of me, becoming so much more.

Can you imagine a better way to get to know each other?

Tomorrow, I want to be naked with you, again.



6 Ways to Have Radically Intimate Sex.


Author: Beth Goldflam

Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Maxpixel


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