Room without elevator (Erotic story)

Everything had gone fast. Suddenly we meet, and when I look back, I tell myself that it was inevitable. Your despair and mine were easily recognizable as to let us escape, just like that, in that world devoid of sweetness and lightness in which we always ran the risk of getting lost, without making noise. Ghosts roaming this oppressive land …

We wanted to love each other, I know. You were vibrating like a flower in the wind when I first saw you. You were beautiful, irresistible and, in this group of friends in which everything was false, I noticed you out of place, like me. So I got closer. At first, blinded by desire, I saw only the outlines of your silhouette, and then a blurred shadow. I remember that I blew into your hair, as I did as a child with dandelions in the field. I wanted to spread you all over the place, multiply you, but also, get your attention and make you real. I couldn’t think of anything better. I remember the looks of others. And of their fears. And how you turned your head, jovial and curious at the same time. With a certain questioning air. That gleam in your slanted eyes. Everything was loud when you looked at me and became visible. You upset me to madness and I knew, from the first moment, that ours was doomed to disaster. Our story was to illustrate, as it had so often happened to me, the impotence to love and the failure of our silences.

I imagined you as a senior executive, working overtime in your office overlooking the Trocadero, dressed in a skirt suit, navy blue or beige jacket, depending on the seasons; locking your office in summer, to catch a flight to some exotic destination. And come back brunette in September, the shorter skirt … Surely you lived in an apartment of two hundred square meters, with a cat. Yes, I imagined you with a cat, you, the slit-eyed feline. Our worlds were very different, but I didn’t care. I immediately fell in love with your landscape.

I was afraid of being indiscreet, of telling you I love you, just like that … I took your hand feverishly and led you out of that bustle. You got carried away, yes, and you furnished the silence like no one else. It was leaving this place and you became my overdose of tenderness, my amphetamine in vein. Pyromaniac of my heart, you immediately made me feel good, strangely good, for an instant, even dizzy.

When we got to my floor, a room without an elevator, you didn’t say anything. Not even when I frantically put the key in the lock, to open that door that was resisting … Because I was nervous, you didn’t make any comment either. I couldn’t hide my emotions, not in front of you. You tried, but I did notice some excitement when the door finally gave way. You bit your lip like a naughty girl and asked straight for the bathroom.

You left the door open and I heard your urine in the toilet, like a heavy, warm rain. You took your time and I began to think about your body and the dexterity with which you would welcome my cock. If you preferred to do it with light or without it. If you would rather …

Again the outline of your silhouette. Your blurry shadow on the doorstep. I almost thought you weren’t real, but you came over to lie on the bed next to me. You rubbed your pussy against my leg and I noticed that it was slightly shaved. You kept rocking back and forth and I let myself be done, scratched by your little hair, passion bites, cat scratches. You made the odd moan that I tried to catch on the fly, kissing you, but you prevented me. It was the first time that I felt any light in me, installed too long in disgust, fear and cowardice. This little soul supplement you wore that night made me stop hating myself for the first time. Or so I thought.

You got on top with the same rocking as before. I saw you smile through your eyes, my panther, mocking but, at the same time, tremendously sweet. Your whole body burned and I thought that if there could be a God, it would have your form and I would worship it all my life. I began to caress the beginning of your back. The texture of your skin was delicate and smooth, but it burned my fingertips. I did not withdraw my hand, that warmth comforted me. By the time you took my cock in your hand, our pulses became one and I almost started to cry.

Your hand squeezed my cock and it relaxed, like this a few times, like a makeshift blood pressure monitor. Meanwhile, the gnashing of my own teeth resounded within me, my jaw clenched, the fear that it would not rise enough to enter you … To take the beating of our hearts to a higher level. That night I was afraid of failing you. That night you deserved all the love in the world. But that night I stopped pumping blood. I jerked the covers aside and propped myself up on one elbow. You shrugged and started straightening your hair. I suppose it was your particular way of downplaying my vulnerability.

You picked up your clothes without noise. We do not exchange words. Well, I know you felt understanding for the situation. But it was not enough. I was expecting a do not worry that stayed halfway, between the glottis and your lips. My body started shaking, I couldn’t breathe. Anguish swelled my throat silently.

We would no longer go hand in hand, leaving a place with a lot of noise like thieves. I was never going to have a chance to take you out to dinner or to spend hours stroking your back under the covers. I would no longer have the chance to make you laugh, late, in the thick night.

You gently touched my face, my neck. You ran your fingers over my mouth. My lips were dry.

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Room without elevator (Erotic story)

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Catherine Coaches