Love Thy Neighbor

I sometimes took my clothes off for the man who lived across from me.

I remember the day he moved in, with his wife.

Their room, with their martial bed, lay directly across from my own room, white with two desks.

I remember watching him move boxes, with the removal men. White lorry, brown paper, filled with tat. He wasn't all too beautiful, but his arms looked strong and his hair was dark and Jesus says love thy neighbor.

It started by accident. My curtains were open, I was undressing. Not thinking. I looked out the window and saw him looking back, and he was watching.

In all my godly modesty I chose to duck out of sight and when I arose, with my palm spread like clothes across my chest, he was gone.

You would think this was the end, a gracious unspoken apology penned by the act of it never happening again, but it did.

The next time it happened I did not duck, I fixed him with a stare, removed my hand from my chest and let him look at me. He gazed, mouth open, coveting.

I let the voyeur look and indulge in my flesh. God does say love thy neighbor?

And so it went on for a year or two, inconsequently we would accidently meet this way, sometimes I would make it so, sometimes it would just be coincidence.

I would watch him, watch me.

Sometimes he would do what men do to relieve a little pressure.

Sometimes I would encourage it.

He gazed adoring every time, eyes dark, lips gently parted.

And then one day he was gone.

I watched his strong arms move the same brown paper back into a lorry, same colour, different men.

I watched his wife draw the curtains and end the exchange. Shame.

Sunday

He licked her placidly and she lay on her back purring. They slotted together later, with her sat high on his thighs. She took to her knees without demand and he entertained her while she helped herself to a climax.

Some would say it was almost romantic, if he hadn't spoilt it by coming across her back.

The Toy

He bought her a toy, spun smooth and sculpted from glass.

They played with it together and it brought them both great pleasure.

She took it home and played with it alone.

She ran it on her skin. It was wet and softer than silk. It was harder than flesh.

It was harder than his flesh. It was ribbed and rubbled with twists.

It brought difficult and new pleasures, knotted with a good pain.

It filled and stretched her beautifully.

It was a good toy and she liked it very much.

fifteen small words

You smack me across the face, there is a trickle of blood, thick and red.

In The Olden Days

When this started it, it was about sex and power. You were vulnerable and needy and I could have twisted you into any shape I wanted.

We started this on the premiss that you wanted to fuck me because your dull wife wouldn't fuck you. So if you're sleeping with her again then the game has changed. You bent the rules and no one likes a cheater.

I hate the way you think about me and write about me like you are some beautiful distraction in my other wise dumb life. Sometimes I think you shouldn't flatter yourself so warmly. I am not riddled with problems, you are not a tonic. I am honest in who I am and what I am. I've never lied to you, but the same can't be said in return.

You have made me angry like coal and you're walking on thin ice now.

You shouldn't play games with me because I'll always win.

Please?

I would love you to fuck me right now.

I would love to have your cock in my mouth, your tongue on my lips, your hands on my neck.

I want you to grip this sorry flesh like you are ripping it apart. I want you to be inside me, and for us to feel connected in a sick insertion. I want blood and guts and sinew and bile and bared souls.

I want to moan in fear and pleasure. I want to ache deeply and be spread like a pack of cards

I need this. Fuck, I need this desperately.

I need it so much it makes me itch. Like a tape worm in my stomach it twists me up and feeds. Its a parasite absorbing all my common sense and feeling.

Your mouth, your hands, the sickness of our actions as I ride you like a toy, or you fuck me like a stranger. No talk, no grace, no politeness. Its hot and cold and empty.

I want to bruise and come and cry for you. I want to please you and I need to be pleased. So can we go to bed together soon? Thanks.