The Very Will of Ecstasy

Original Post Date: May 4th, 2009

She laughs when we fuck.

Fuck. There's something about the word, uttered by red-blooded lips. The raw promise of orgasmic bliss. Passion demanded. The mind, commanded. Lethargy, like loose clothing, is ripped asunder at the mere mention of the word.

And then, we go. HA!

Meanderings mold to fantasy. Languid longings turn to liquid lust. The beautiful torment of temptation teases at every fleshy curve. Every wayward glace distracts. Every seductive smile calls for concentration's surrender. Unconditional.

We laugh together. We laugh at eachother when the depths of normalcy have crept in again, unexpectedly. But then we quickly banish it to the ether, to the dreams of some other unfortunate, for we have Pleasure to attend to. And then we laugh in euphoria. We laugh in the sweet surrealness of sin.

I madden merely for the tip of her tongue. Crazed to feel her skin against mine. My mind demands the release of carefully bridled passion. TAKE HER. She laughs then, my favorite laugh: "My clothes are still on" it says. Her eyes challenge. They dare.

We fuck. On the wall. On the table. On the bed. Orgasms in succession. No fancy words, no moral of a story. Sex makes the world go round. No meaning deeper than a thrust, no temple greater than an arched back. I feel her fingers on me now, her nails demanding a tithe. But my tongue brings no worship to her Word of God, it speaks the devil's script instead. Temptation never knew strength like seduction scorned. She begs. Now I laugh.

We are the very will of Ecstasy.