Maybe

 

She looks nice; she looks nice she’d be an interesting person that I find her interesting.

Maybe she is an artist, or a musician, the creative type with flair that other girls simply don’t have.

Maybe she is just like me.

Maybe she is lonely too.

Maybe I have the courage to talk to her and through some measure of miracle she talks back and it’s not awkward and she likes me.

Maybe we take the bus together and the conversation flows and the journey ends too soon.

Maybe I ask to ‘see you again’ and she blushes and says ‘yes’.

Maybe it is beautiful and straight away I realize that she is what I’ve been looking for for so long

Maybe we hold hands in public and feel wrong when our fingers aren’t intertwined.

Maybe I can stand sort of shopping but only with her.

Maybe we intend to start slow but things are so damn perfect we can’t help to take it quick.

Maybe we’ll live together and each day is like a new adventure all over again and every mundane task seems so fresh and full of life.

Maybe she cooks for me and is content simply with the look on my face as a compliment.

Maybe she waits for me at home and doesn’t get mad when I don’t call.

Maybe I can look at other girls and it’s okay because she knows I love her.

Maybe…

Maybe I love her.

Maybe we’ll fall in love and nothing has ever felt so right.

Maybe she can hold me on the dark days, and when I feel too scared to move she can tell me that it’s all ok and I believe her.

Maybe I can do the same for her.

Maybe I am her savior and she needs me more than anything else.

Maybe she can’t live without me.

Maybe it’s perfect.

Maybe she makes me feel home and safe.

Maybe her smile is enough to make all pain go away.

Maybe she is everything… just not for me.

Maybe she is someone else’s.

Maybe she tells someone else it’s all okay.

Maybe she loves someone else and holds someone else’s hand.

Maybe I don’t have the courage to talk to her and she gets on the bus and goes away to live this other fantastic life.

Maybe she can never be mine.

Maybe I can live with that.

 

J.Gray,  2012.

For Virgin Media Shorts UK.

 

Pandora.

¿Qué Pasa?

llorar lagrimas

…en algún momento del reciente pasado lejano.

¿Qué pasa cuando el dolor no pasa?

¿Qué pasa cuando no aprendes a vivir con él? ¿Ni sabes cómo curarlo?

Qué pasa cuando la punzada en el pecho ahoga la garganta y te inunda los ojos ¿Qué pasa? Sigue leyendo

Me encanta


orgasmo femenino

Me encanta que me hagas gritar cuando me falta el aire.
Me encanta tener que clavarte las uñas mientras me retuerzo.
Me encanta tu orden: “dámelo“. Me encanta obedecer y dártelo.
Me encanta ver tu cara en ese momento.
Me encanta, entonces, poder cerrar los ojos y recuperar la respiración mientras me abrazas.

Me encanta.

Me encanta correrme en tus dedos.

Pandora.

Imagen: De November Girl, Wild Dream. 1966.

By Sam Haskings

Habitación 346

La vista es nuestro mayor censor y nuestro mayor prejuicio. Nuestro mayor miedo.

 

erotica

 

Será al revés. Tú me podrás ver y  yo estaré ciega.

¿Estás segura?

Sí. 

Y recuerda: Si no te gusta lo que ves, siempre podrás decidir darte la vuelta e irte. Si lo haces sólo te pido que lo hagas en silencio y sin mirar atrás.

Nunca. 

Sigue leyendo

El Masaje

A D. Por todas las pruebas conjuntas. Gracias Amor.  

masaje durex lubricante

Había tenido un día muy duro en el trabajo, además, a la vuelta, una avería en el autobús y un retraso en el metro habían hecho que mi cansancio se uniera a una mezcla de rabia, frustración y mala leche en general.

Abro la puerta de casa. Música. Suave, lejana, apenas perceptible, pero si lo suficiente como para que me dibuje una sonrisa en la cara. Tú ya has llegado, y claramente tienes algo en mente. Todo a oscuras, salvo por el camino de velas que dirige mis pasos hacía la habitación; un cálido y relajante aroma invade la estancia.

Hola cariño – me dices al oído- olvídate del trabajo, ya estás en casa, relájate. Sigue leyendo