She is as sensitive as a Spanish mare. She is responsive finding her way through your bracken thicket. You listen. You relinquish. You find yourself.

Now that she has your attention she baits you, with whispers that call you close. Those whispers are promises founded in the words “listen, wait”. You find yourself waiting, waiting for something of which you know not. Your mind wanders while your body remains steadfast.

She paws your ground and calls you back. She promises love, life, and surprises. She knows you want to lie down and rest. She knows your rest is a masquerade hoping for the pulse of syrupped adrenaline injected into your heart. She reaches out, with her lashed eyes, and her muzzle finds your secret places.

It is pure pleasure, one where you discover unexpectent submission as you wait and listen for her approach.  Once your pulses are intertwined you have found home. The gate is open simply because you have learned to wait. She settles knowing you understand and chooses to bear intimate witness to your sating.

The sating has you hearing sounds you have never uttered. You listen and hear your body stutter an awkward “ec”.  You find yourself gasping out a partial sound calling you to “sta” and you make that sound make sense as you hear the word “stay”.  After the calling of strange yet familiar sounds coming from your very body you sigh (“sy”) relief.

Ec·sta·sy is what you have found and she knows you will now run away in order to find answers in books and search engines, instead of those answers housed in your own body. It is the human form of cribbing. You have it bad. Then you find yourself pausing and the memory of your wisdom, your ecstasy, your truth bubbles in the back of the recessess of your mind. You listen differently this time and caution seems to tempt shutting the door. It is at this moment that she breezes with her muzzle prepared to work magic. She laughs and tells you not to take things so seriously.
she calls
JT Murphy signing off for shift.

 

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