The Healing
Erotic
2003-07-02
We often sat in silence, never speaking in words, yet knowing what the other was thinking, the electricity of wanton desire to taste each others flesh, to cleave to one another’s souls upon a bed of lust; I would often wonder how we had found one another. How did two lost lonely souls, who could never trust, never reveal our true selves and speak like a normal man and woman sit in silence, and not act upon our desires, our animalistic nature to reach out and consume each others soul? Was it coincidence or fate which brought us together? I don’t think that we were ever meant to know. I will never forget the night it happened. The night we all came together, you, me, our gang of friends we shared socially. As I folded my cards and lost yet another round of poker to the other participants in the game, I remember staring through the open passage to the kitchen where you stood at the stove stirring the gravy for the evening holiday meal. How I gazed upon your being, drank in your essence, lost in a trance as the very presence of you pulled me in, transfixed, you took me back, took me back to the time when I was a child, when I had seen you in a dream, how you had helped me, healed me, took away the pain that was always present in my heart ever since that one fateful day in the barn when an older boy had spilled his milky white seed upon my face after forcing me to take him in my mouth. As my soul filled with your warmth from across the expanse of the apartment, I remember that you slowly turned in my direction and smiled. The look in your eyes, warm, your guard down, the cold icy stare had melted and I was able to gaze deep into your soul and understand your pain, understand how you had been hurt, how as a child your innocence had been taken in a mad rush as a schoolboy twice your age had molested and raped you in the empty basement at school, destroying your virgin hairless flower, spilling his evil seed into you, laughing as he pulled his bloody cock from you and wiped it off on your small tender thigh where his grip had left a swelling bruise. The dinner you prepared that night nourished me as we all enjoyed the holiday feast you had delicately prepared. We had made some small talk as we all sat and shared the meal and drank wine from crystal glasses. As we ate, our eyes spoke to one another; once again, we shared tortured memories that no one else at the table could probably comprehend. Whether we wanted to face the reality and tread where we knew the power between us would be too strong, you and I were both kindred spirits, cut from the same spiritual cloth, yet so damaged that silk thread would not have done justice to our open wounds. After the feast, over coffee, and the chocolate cake that you had made, our eyes secured the deal between us. Our pact was that we would never speak to anyone of our pain, our torture, but we would share it only with each other, drown in it, letting our souls meld together in order to heal the wounds even if it meant that the power within our souls would drive us forever apart, knowing we would not have the strength and will to control the desire to consume one another and that one or both of us would parish. Later that evening, our friends and I bid you farewell, and thanked you once again for an excellent meal, for your warmth and generosity, although I knew better, knew the cold torment which encased your soul and that the reflection others saw in your eyes was merely a ruse, your shield of armor against the world. I lingered behind as I often did, not wanting to face the chill of the cold night air that awaited me.
2003-07-02
We often sat in silence, never speaking in words, yet knowing what the other was thinking, the electricity of wanton desire to taste each others flesh, to cleave to one another’s souls upon a bed of lust; I would often wonder how we had found one another. How did two lost lonely souls, who could never trust, never reveal our true selves and speak like a normal man and woman sit in silence, and not act upon our desires, our animalistic nature to reach out and consume each others soul? Was it coincidence or fate which brought us together? I don’t think that we were ever meant to know. I will never forget the night it happened. The night we all came together, you, me, our gang of friends we shared socially. As I folded my cards and lost yet another round of poker to the other participants in the game, I remember staring through the open passage to the kitchen where you stood at the stove stirring the gravy for the evening holiday meal. How I gazed upon your being, drank in your essence, lost in a trance as the very presence of you pulled me in, transfixed, you took me back, took me back to the time when I was a child, when I had seen you in a dream, how you had helped me, healed me, took away the pain that was always present in my heart ever since that one fateful day in the barn when an older boy had spilled his milky white seed upon my face after forcing me to take him in my mouth. As my soul filled with your warmth from across the expanse of the apartment, I remember that you slowly turned in my direction and smiled. The look in your eyes, warm, your guard down, the cold icy stare had melted and I was able to gaze deep into your soul and understand your pain, understand how you had been hurt, how as a child your innocence had been taken in a mad rush as a schoolboy twice your age had molested and raped you in the empty basement at school, destroying your virgin hairless flower, spilling his evil seed into you, laughing as he pulled his bloody cock from you and wiped it off on your small tender thigh where his grip had left a swelling bruise. The dinner you prepared that night nourished me as we all enjoyed the holiday feast you had delicately prepared. We had made some small talk as we all sat and shared the meal and drank wine from crystal glasses. As we ate, our eyes spoke to one another; once again, we shared tortured memories that no one else at the table could probably comprehend. Whether we wanted to face the reality and tread where we knew the power between us would be too strong, you and I were both kindred spirits, cut from the same spiritual cloth, yet so damaged that silk thread would not have done justice to our open wounds. After the feast, over coffee, and the chocolate cake that you had made, our eyes secured the deal between us. Our pact was that we would never speak to anyone of our pain, our torture, but we would share it only with each other, drown in it, letting our souls meld together in order to heal the wounds even if it meant that the power within our souls would drive us forever apart, knowing we would not have the strength and will to control the desire to consume one another and that one or both of us would parish. Later that evening, our friends and I bid you farewell, and thanked you once again for an excellent meal, for your warmth and generosity, although I knew better, knew the cold torment which encased your soul and that the reflection others saw in your eyes was merely a ruse, your shield of armor against the world. I lingered behind as I often did, not wanting to face the chill of the cold night air that awaited me.
Russia









