Perfect Face

I saw him. I allowed him into my world once again, after a vow to myself to stay away from him. He is beautiful to behold, I feel the energy flow between us almost immediately. We sit privately and try to ignore the longing between us. I complain of my aching legs and he kneels in front of me, taking each leg and running his strong hands over them. He works my tense muscles but never looks at my face. His fingers allow an instant calm over my body that I have craved, but he stops abruptly, suddenly realising that we can be seen and the intimacy is apparent.

I want him so much, but my rationality finally kicks in and I walk away. But he is on my mind of course, I will him to contact me. I know he wants to, I know him so well. My phone rings and he is offering me a lift home. I take it at face value and accept but my heart starts to beat. We drive along mainly in silence but the tension between us in overwhelming. He mistakes a head movement of mine for a glance in the mirror. He states that I do not need to worry about checking my reflection, because I am stunning. I cannot reply as I allow the words to wash over me. He has never said anything like that to me before. I try to ignore the feelings it creates. As we arrive outside my house, I breathe steadily with my hand upon the door handle. But I cant control it, I move to kiss him and we know that again we have lost the strength to resist each other.

We rush to my house, fall inside and tear at each other's bodies. Clothes fall and hands run everywhere. It is more tender this time, less animalistic. I feel like we are actually making love. However there is still that raw energy that has always been between us, that frantic need to connect, that desperation to taste each other.

His energy increases but I do not want him to release into me. He is close, he is ready to finish. 'Where?' I ask him. 'Your face.' he replies 'I want to finish on your perfect face.'

I allow him to, his energy flows over me, it brings him great pleasure to allow his lust to spread across my beauty. Some people I know find it degrading, but I see it as raw intimacy and trust. He takes me into his arms and holds me. I feel content but the familiar pangs of guilt and doubt start to creep close again. I try to push them away and for the moment I suceed.

After he has left, my mind dwells upon the comments he had made to me. He called me stunning. He said my face is perfect. I shouldnt allow myself to feel warmed by the comments. But I do. I allow everything about him to envelop me. Once again.