Blurred Lines

The reality and the expectation...the dichotomy...the false veneer of normalcy and sensicality of the lies we wish to tell ourselves that we're all composed, that we're all okay and that we've all figured it out.....



I'm kissing her neck and her shoulders and she turns toward me.
She pulls herself on top of me and her petite hands tug at my belt with anxiousness. She's kissing me aggressively and I know where it's going but I do not rush.
She's nervous and she asks if she should grab a condom.
I tell her yes.
She smiles shyly in the dark as she puts it on me. She doesn't want any foreplay, just my dick inside of her as quickly as possible.

She straddles me and rides me as I unclasp her bra. She grows tense and eventually comes. I feel her melt into me and she pulls me on top of her. She clamors for my weight over her, holding her down, my hand grasping the back of her neck and her hair balled up inside my fist. I kiss her more hungrily as I get closer.
Her hair tickles my face and my hands grab her hips as she grinds into me, urging me deeper and deeper inside of her.

She cleans up afterward and she resists lying naked with me afterward. I don't take it personally. The lines are blurring between us despite whatever efforts we continue to make in hopes of avoiding expectations and deep feelings. When you have to discuss those things and decide to set boundaries you're already hurtling past them like a stagecoach in an old western heading toward the cliff.

When you have that talk initially, before you even have sex, both people are teetering on the precipice of something they may not be able to control....and though they know the risks are high.