Reason is a Thunder Word to an Idiot Girl

I can be so concise
so reasonable
you know, good to the last drop

but as often as Haley’s Comet can be seen from our planet
I’ll run into that impossible, improbable thing
that kills all the good and decent intention
welling up like frosting on a cake inside me
I do things I would never ever do
flinch at the memory of my behavior
Seconds later
1 hour later
1 day later

All we had was one meal and some decent conversation
yet I could smell him across the table
leather and musk and soap and dry earth
wondering all the while if he, in turn, was smelling me?
I want to run my toes up his pants
under the cover of white table linen
caress that beautiful organ between his legs
surrounded as we were by the ignorance of strangers
I score a small victory by not giving in to this thought

I do not recall much of what we discussed
Did I speak in fluid dulcet tones?
Did I purr?
Was I openly staring?
Was my mouth agape?
Was there drool?

He was a tall, broad drink of gentlemen persuasion
radiant with a kind of quiet un-discharged energy
sitting there like a faulty electric outlet shooting out random sparks
Can I catch one in my mouth?
Does he have chest hair?
Does he grunt or moan or talk or all three when he fucks a women?
Would he pull my hair and kiss the side of my neck while pumping away inside me?
Would he let me tie him up with black nylon rope to my four poster bed?
dear god
stop it stop it stop it!
I scream to myself

What was he saying?…
Oh yes, something about Stella being his favorite beer
Damn, should I tell him its made by Budweiser?
he is frowning
geezus, I think I just said that out loud
Closing my eyes for 1 split second
the full weight of him conjures inside the lids of my eyes
I have never wanted to fuck a thing so bad in my life
(be cool)
I come up for air to realize there is nobody in the restaurant
except wait staff cleaning tables
oops, they’re closing
geez, what was that?
Shall we? He says, paying the bill without hesitation.

Sliding into the leather interior of his black 300M
we discuss music and listen to Radiohead
he pushes my head forward, sweeps my hair out of the way, kisses the back of my neck
I’ve wanted to do that all night
in that thick voice, a dark language
his tongue touches my skin like rampant sandpaper
uh-oh, that was…unexpected
unexpected equals danger
run, run, RUN!
get out of the car now and GO you idiot girl!
the voice in my head is loud
usually I listen to it
tonight I do not.
Idiot girl.

I bite my bottom lip after we kiss
soak up every last drop of him from my lips
fingers grasp the long hardness through his trousers
I listen to myself ask him out loud if he would take it out for me

just so I could look at it

he said I would like it

I do love a man that doesn’t exaggerate

hot embarrassment rises to my face
I realize I’m staring at it
touching it
I am selfish
I want it for my own
I want to mount it
stuff it
lick it
don’t let anything else I say or do fool you
I want to suck it like a ripe universe not yet explored
I want it inside my mouth exploding like a dead star
I do not want to be good
or decent
or reasonable
I want to kick regret into the next lifetime

I want him
I just do, okay
I want him
I want to writhe underneath him
my hair to fly down into his gaping mouth while above him
I want it all
I want the Angel in me to just
get gone
I want his world to tilt sideways
I want to show him the true nature of my vivid
I want to get nasty
hang all good sense I was born with outside on the porch
where dust gathers and the men always leave
I want my fill of him

fuck regret…isn’t that just a word we use when it rains?
fuck reason…isn’t that just a word we shoot into the clouds?
Isn’t a Thunderstorm a great reason to get fucked hard anyway?

I want him to know the insides of me
every luscious layer
drop the masquerade of his own badass
awaken to his true nature
the one that fucks like tart, but hugs like sweet

I want him to lay me down like his garden creature
possess everything earthy in me
breathe me in like a gallon of fire
fill the emptiness inside
carpet his fingers through the tangles of my hair
through the maze of my deepest hope

I want to take all this lust
every dancing uncontained molecule of it
sprinkle it over him like magic dust
pinch his nostrils shut
so he has to breathe in the powder of me
I want to be his fuck drug
okay, I do
I want him to take me
and take me
just take me
until I have no more strength

no more strength to throw him back
but neither does he

© 2008 mstrace

Reason is a Thunder Word to an Idiot Girl


California, United States

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Artist's Description

Installment #2 of 3 in my Storm Series. Installment #3 is here and the first one is here

I apologize if this is the ramblings of a mad woman. Right now I’m sick (literally, with a raging 102 degree fever) and all I can do is write about my tall, dark, wants-me fantasy. I dreamt about him last night…tossing around all sweaty and full of fever between the sheets. I might not be of sound mind to know whether this is good writing. I’ll re-read it when the fever breaks and decide its ultimate fate.

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