1 DAVID"S PASSION, PART TWO, page 3 on Tue 02 Mar 2010, 12:02
Like I had tried to do. I know now that he, in his own unique way, was attempting to subsequently fulfill me...
Then again, he's unpredictable.
That evening as I quietly watched his raw emotions on display, I could feel another sensation deep inside me that I'd never before experienced. A strange but welcome stirring in my soul that lit other fires as well. Fires that I had never before been aware could exist and thrive on their own... Like individual entities.
By the time David finished the song, Overburdened, there was no trace of the emotional David. Initially, I was a bit puzzled. But then I saw his eyes, almost crocodile-like, slide around and fix on me. I was breathless. Catatonic. Like a bird hypnotized by a snake.
I could still think, feel, hear, see, smell and taste. But I could not move. David, looking triumphant, sauntered around the room toward me, his eyes quickly darting to all the windows and door locks. He did not close the shades. I tried to object but could not.
"Do not fight it, it's useless." he hissed.
"He obviously knows he is in control." I decided, and hoped he would do the right thing; but I didn't even know what that was.
The right thing? I was quickly scanning his face for any sign of the familiar satanophany. Then strangely, I questioned if I was relieved I didn't see it. I did see lots of raw emotions, and I could literally feel the lust, once denied, now heavy in the room. The tears and sadness from the songs stopped now, he was tuning me as finely as if he were plucking actual strings within me. My inner spirit was so on edge that when he was close enough to touch me, I reflexively sighed with desire. He was exquisite. But he did not touch.
David's face, and neck, and his head were drenched from the tears and sweat of the songs. He slid boyishly, almost shyly onto the divan next to me, bent over me and leaned his head against the back of the divan. I could feel the anxiety rising in my chest as I felt the remnants of his passion dripping onto my own face and neck, tasting the saltiness of his emotion combined with my own. I could finally move my arm to wrap it around him, and across his back. With my free hand, I quickly peeled off his already opened down the front shirt, soaked with his passion. I rubbed both hands across his back and could feel the wisps of hair damp from all the moisture.
He laid against me perfectly still, letting me slowly rub his awesome body as I touched parts that were still unfamiliar to me. But he was still careful not to deliberately touch me.
As I think back, I smile once again. So intelligent, so premeditative, manipulative and magnificent this one-of-a-kind lover. This man. Yes, man. Although he was substantially younger than I, he was a man in every sense of the word.... (continued)