02-20-2019, 08:38 PM
It was like pushing through fog, the mist cool, slipping through the spaces his loosely coiled scarf left open, filling his lungs with chilled moisture. A spring day in Central Park, the smell of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers in the air, the rushing of a stream and the sounds of laughter in the distance.
Physical sensations seemed to somehow crossover, sights he could smell, sounds he could taste, touches he could hear as song, a synesthesia of sensation.
Ana's full lips quirked as she spoke, tiny rosebud tongue peeking out teasingly between her teeth, and he found curiosity welling up in him, a fountain, wondering how it would feel to have them pressed against his own, tongue playful and sweet. Her words spiked through him and he felt a longing, a hunger that was alien to him. Alien and strange and foreign and not him.
And he wanted that feeling, craved that feeling, needed that feeling. Was this what normal people experienced? Was this what drove them? For the first time in his life, he understood. And he understood hunger.
The others in the room seemed to disappear as his eyes drank her in, as he stepped forward, unable any longer to keep from the experience, to feel, dear god, to feel something. Like a light had been switched on, circuit flaring to overload, something he had no framework for, no knowledge of how to control. He stepped forward and his hands went to her hips, felt between them her narrow waist, pulled her to him, aware of how close to her heat he was, dipping down, pulling to feel her body press against his, to taste her lips.
He was high and he wallowed in it, luxuriated in it. This was it!! Was this what they all felt, what drove them to self destruction and pain and loss and risk and death! He understood at last.
For the first time in his life he understood.
Physical sensations seemed to somehow crossover, sights he could smell, sounds he could taste, touches he could hear as song, a synesthesia of sensation.
Ana's full lips quirked as she spoke, tiny rosebud tongue peeking out teasingly between her teeth, and he found curiosity welling up in him, a fountain, wondering how it would feel to have them pressed against his own, tongue playful and sweet. Her words spiked through him and he felt a longing, a hunger that was alien to him. Alien and strange and foreign and not him.
And he wanted that feeling, craved that feeling, needed that feeling. Was this what normal people experienced? Was this what drove them? For the first time in his life, he understood. And he understood hunger.
The others in the room seemed to disappear as his eyes drank her in, as he stepped forward, unable any longer to keep from the experience, to feel, dear god, to feel something. Like a light had been switched on, circuit flaring to overload, something he had no framework for, no knowledge of how to control. He stepped forward and his hands went to her hips, felt between them her narrow waist, pulled her to him, aware of how close to her heat he was, dipping down, pulling to feel her body press against his, to taste her lips.
He was high and he wallowed in it, luxuriated in it. This was it!! Was this what they all felt, what drove them to self destruction and pain and loss and risk and death! He understood at last.
For the first time in his life he understood.