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Blue Sheets and Rags
I was there, obviously. I’d have to be to know. But no, I was really there, in several ways, you know? Spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally, there I was. So I lay, in my soft, blue sheets like clouds, like they were patting my shaking arms; calming me, from my anxious, jumping curiosity. Sex, my mind, it screamed. But of what knowledge or experience did I have. I let my eyes flutter shut as I began to move my wobbly fingers closer in between my bare legs. I breathed heavily and with a weak moan, not only with my mouth but with my whole body. As I became more familiar with this unbelievable sensation, I was not only experiencing this new indescribable feeling, but enjoying and grasping the stimulation and the every thought that came with each wave of pure desire for passion. Every rush that passed through my body seemed to settle with the one before, like building a house or icing a cake. I wasn’t thinking about it in that moment though, I could only express through physical satisfaction how damn good this was. And then, it was just then. Something you can’t really manifest, when you don’t even know what happened. But right there was like every rush, every wave, every feeling of extreme pleasure ignited. The feeling abruptly vanished. I felt grimy, dirty, and sick. I was just absolutely disgusted with myself. How can I feel so wonderful and so beautiful in that moment and then feel my skin as if it were a useless rag? I rolled on my side and clutched the blue sheets like clouds that comforted now feeling like they hid my shame, I don’t know, I wasn’t there.
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