Stepping out from bathroom after a hot shower, she asks widening her brown eyes at me “why does your writing have always a hint of sadness?” as she makes a half-hearted attempt to cover her naked body in bathrobe. “Why is it struggle and pain that seeps out even when we are happy?”
Her impromptu reasoning puts me off balance a bit as if I were caught red-handed. I proceed to place my coffee-mug on the side-table, slowly, looking into her eyes, letting my mind process a response for her sensitive bathroom thought.
The truth is, at this time, I don’t want to get into a serious conversation, when her gorgeous round and milky breasts tease me, and her wet, steaming body I know is soft and moist that would perfectly stick on my skin and make incredible after-bath-morning-sex.
I’ve been misunderstood, used and torn so many times that when anyone asks me a personal question like this, my bones turn soft- as fast as the speed of light- as if molten inside, my heart heavy and weak. I feel like if I tried to say anything my body would collapse beneath the weight of a smallest word on my lips.
I need to get hard because it gives me strength so I slowly slide down my hands on her carcass, holding her soft, bouncy hips, pulling her closer. Her wet breasts push on my chest, my lips on her neck as my tongue tries to make a hole in there. I rub my fingers between her legs and slowly insert them inside. Feeling damp hotness of her, I feel strong, big and hard, mainly between my legs, but in my mind I’m still fragile. I don’t have strength to answer her question so I push my fingers a little deeper. She cries in pleasure, her hands quickly going down in my underwear.
I’m all drenched but I feel parched. I’m naked but I don’t open my insides. I’m afraid that she won’t understand, that by the time we are done having this incredible sex, she’ll forget about what she asked and leave me falling into the darkness.
But I have to fight this. I have to try one more time. Maybe, she will understand.
I put my coffee-mug on the side table and part my lips to speak but she is not there.
She never stepped out of my head.