Hidden Dreams
by Lindy

Like the deep inhalation of life giving air, the soft exhalation of breath, dark dreams are a part of me.
Always there, simmering below the surface waiting for the heat, the need, to bring the simmer to flashpoint.
The dreams wait, hidden within until they become every waking thought.
A need so strong the taste becomes almost bitter on the tongue.
Desire can be a dark dream.

 

Dark desire fills the mind to the point that the deep pulsating throb of need becomes real.
It engulfs the mind so completely, so totally that the imagined touch of a hand causes the body to react.
Breath becomes shallow, the skin warms, nipples pucker, moisture pools, hands clench and wanting becomes a writhing coiling snake that turns the dream into reality.
The darkness of the dream is the gentle hand that becomes rough, and harsh rather than soothing, and caressing.
It is eyes that probe and demand rather than seek and entice.

 

The reality becomes hot lusty need rather than soft desire.
It becomes a craving instead of a wanting.
Gentle romance becomes an animal seeking an all consuming completion.
Giving caves in to the compulsion to take.
The dark dream becomes an obsession to find release that goes millenniums beyond simple satisfaction.

 

Lips meet, tongues plunge, teeth nip and tug.
Hands clutch and squeeze at soft breasts.
Fingers pinch and pull hardened nipples until the pain becomes mindless pleasure.
Moan, whimpers, groans, cries are met, tasted, swallowed and breath is traded for breath.
Trembling thighs are opened, hips raised, back bowing as hardness plunges into softness, brutally taking what has become dark craving.

 

Writhing, twisting, grinding, bucking, clenching, gasping, panting overcome with the sensations.
Screaming as one goes over the edge of desire in the dark whirling vortex of completion.
Sweat slickened bodies throb against each other, shuddering as breath is sought.
My eyes flutter open to the reality of being alone.
Alone until the surfacing of the next dark dream.