A walk around the lake

As I walk around the lake, crunching autumn leaves underfoot, I remember this feeling I have for her. It was a long time ago we were together. It was a different time, in a different place.

I miss this feeling when I think of her. But I don’t know who she is. We rarely say a word. The longing has tortured me, entertained me and deflated me. I thought I knew her.  How wrong I was. It is strange to feel so right and be so wrong.

I could sit and think about her for hours.  Or feel her. It is not a feeling I have felt before. It is the same feeling, regardless of where I am or where I go that sweeps across me when I think of her.

Who or what are you to me – my desired lover, my muse or my very soul reflected in this world. She haunts me like a ghost in the night – hovering above my bed or sometimes, she seems to slide under my sheets and lie beside me.

Passers by grin at me on their journey around the lake. I see kids on a school rowing trip eating sandwiches under trees in the park. City workers jog past, happy to be outside feeling fresh air against their stiff office chair backs. I want to cup this feeling in my hands and throw it out to the wind for everyone to feel how wonderful I feel when I think about her.

Minutes, hours and days have gone by, soaking up this feeling. It is an indulgence I keep to myself. My own secret garden, where I don’t need to touch or speak but I can feel her with me. Like an addiction, I succumb in private. When no-one is watching, not even me, I inhale it. I want it and I want more. I know I should resist. Can’t resist it anymore. No one is around so I open up to it and immerse myself in it. I drown myself in this feeling of her. She is part of me.

Time passes quickly thinking and feeling how she makes me feel. Is it wishful thinking or my own desire. It scares me and excites me. I feel safe and content with this feeling. It’s like a presence within and around me.

I don’t know what to do when I feel her.  I want to climb the highest mountain in the world. I could jump on bike and cycle anywhere I please. This boundless energy is wrapped in a rotunda of softness and warmth that makes me feel calm and safe.

It was short and sweet as they say, the happiest days of my life when we were together. It excited me knowing I would see her again. I dressed to impress her. Her eyes were closed.

One day when we met, my heart had arrived well before the rest of me. Not able to keep up with the speed of my desire an empty body sat slouched on the train. I could barely contain the nervousness and desire and fear in me.

I wanted to talk to her, know her and feel her. She pushed me away, said tell me later. I was too naive to know she did not want me. The reality is I never had her full attention. I should have kept on walking, but I didn’t.

My pace picks up as I dodge a puddle of water. I never imagined I would be in here today, thinking about this feeling of her.I don’t know which way to turn, too much energy to burn. And sometimes hate and anger.

I have talked and cried and whispered for hours and it still re-appears. Pages and notebooks of words, and thoughts and understanding I have written and here I am again. I have filled buckets of tears missing her.  Soaked sheets with sweat of desire imagining her body against mine. How delicate and sweet it was. I glance across the water and wonder how strange it is to again be thinking of her.

I cannot see her anywhere. I don’t know what she looks like anymore.  I never want to see her again yet I wonder when I will. If I did see her again, I would run away.

It is odd, this feeling I have about her. Sometimes a knowing smile dances across my face. Blood pulsates through all the arteries of my heart. Yet, we do not speak. Fragments of images are all I see. Can’t bring myself to look her way. Scared and nervous, I turn away. It is not how it once was between us. Perhaps it was all a dream.

Looking out across the water, at the misty city skyline, I feel her through the beat in the music. Cold air presses against my face, I continue walking around the lake.  It makes me want to dance and sing and I know not a thing about melody.

I wonder if she thinks about me too.  I turn the corner on the path, wishing to find her sitting there waiting for me with a shy grin. Her syrupy considered voice greets me with surprise and delight.

My heart races remembering the sound of her words in my ear. Syllables alone made me smile and laugh and my heart pulse. Like she was the only voice in the world, my attention was never as focused than when I listened to her.

Slowing down my pace, I kick stones into the water like a child throwing a tantrum when I don’t see her sitting on the bench. I am dreaming. She does not see me. I do not exist. d

I have cried out loud to get her out of my mind. Fallen to my knees, screaming to the black stormy clouds above to rip this feeling out of me. No response. I wait and the sobs rise up from my stomach to my chest. Waiting for an answer, for a sign.

Torrential rain soaks my shirt. Smearing mud across my face, I plead to the sky, to anyone who will listen.

‘I will do anything you ask, anything. Please get this out of me’.

But no-one comes. And no-one answers. It is still. It is silent. The once busy road is empty of cars. Tram sounds have stopped. The families and school groups have disappeared. I am alone in the rain, with a dark cloud hanging over my head and a cold chill crawling up my spine.

Opening my eyes, I am the same as I was before. And still I feel this fucking feeling of her pulsing through me – same as it ever was. The same as it first was.

The splash of ducks hitting the water brings me back to where I am. I stare at the mud on my hands and knees and see strangers staring at me. I do not care what they think.

Standing up, I fold my arms across my chest and jump a puddle on the path. Relieved and drained, I slowly continue on my way.

I come back to the sound of the beat in my ears and click my fingers to the rhythm. I wonder where she might be and if she thinks of me.

Perhaps its better like this, feeling her in my own private way. Resting here in my imagination, I am safe and pure away from harm. As I approach home, the beat fading in my ears and the sun dipping behind the houses, I feel content.

Embracing the feeling one last time, I wrap it up inside my heart and bury it away. I will not let myself feel her anymore. This is the way it is. I wonder if I will ever have this depth of feeling again and with anyone else but her. Perhaps it is all simply within me.


Stand before me

Stand before me
Under the water
With your long cock
Water droplets slide down your face and neck
Meeting your supple breasts

My eyes take in all of you
Tracing up and down
Your curvy feminine hips
The short hair of a boy

You stand masculine
Tough and strong
Yet your breasts
And arse are soft
And delicate

Come to me
Run your mouth all around my nipple
Let me feel the false bulge hanging
Between your legs

She sees you lick your finger
Your eyes meet hers
She is wet for you
Insert it now
Slowly you immerse yourself in her
Feeling her juices
Up and down
Will you turn her around
Bend her over
Take her over
thrust yourself into her
Push that object that makes
you man
and woman
into her
She swallows you
All of you
She steps forward
Running water
Sprays on her face
Black smudge eyes
Smile at you
She feels all of you
Moves back
And screaming with delight
She kisses you under the water
And holds you tight
With all her might
Elena van Laack

The first time we met

I will always remember how relaxed I felt sitting next to her in the club that night. We rested on a soft lounge in the back of the room to talk and take a rest from the dancefloor. It was almost sunrise.

I spoke to her but she couldn’t hear me. She moved her body closer to mine to hear above loud music. Gently she placed her hand on my inner thigh as she moved her body next to mine. She marked her ownership of me not with possession but with tenderness and desire.

I felt like I had been by her side for many years – but it was the first time we met. She turned to talk to a random sitting beside us. All the time her hand stayed snugly resting on my leg. I liked the feel of her touch. I felt like I had come home. While she wasn’t looking I took a peek her way. I wanted to see who she was. 

She didn’t know I was assessing her. I gazed longingly at her long legs in jeans, taking in their long, straight shape. They seemed to travel all the way to her hips and continue up her back. Her strong stature was intriguing and powerful. I felt she would protect me not just for the rest of the night but forever.  I was in awe about how self-assured she seemed to be.  Her confidence was admirable and fascinating. I wanted some of it for myself.

She didn’t talk a lot. But she could easily strike up conversation with strangers. I wasn’t jealous. It made me think she knew a lot about the world and life. I liked it. My imagination wandered..it also made me think, she could take care of difficult situations for me if I ever needed her to. How wonderful that would be.

Her hand never left me while she talked drunk to the stranger. She seemed to communicate through her touch. Her hand rested affectionately on my leg, like it was our routine posture. It was like we come to the venue every weekend, this is our couch and this is how we sit beside each other. The warm, knowing touch of her hand told me she would never leave me until I was ready.

With her hand on my leg and her tall body close to mine, I felt everyone around us knew I was with her. I let go. I didn’t know what to say. I felt shy, drunk and wondered if I should get her attention. For once, there was no need for me to do or prove anything.  I relaxed. I sat quietly and soaked up the feeling of her warmth next to me.

The tender assurance of her hand on my inner thigh spoke a thousand words to me. It wasn’t primal. It was sensual and natural. I no longer felt alone in the world. She didn’t know how long I pined to feel that way. She didn’t know how deep she made me feel from a single touch in such a small moment of time. She didn’t know I felt like I had known her for a long time.

She made me feel wanted. It was the sweetest thing I ever did feel. This is how it was, the first night we met…

©Copyright Helen Stevens 2011