|
v u l v a l i c i o u s I wonder if I could be that strange girl, the one you recognize vaguely and want for your own I've just been here, and it makes me want to be naked in front of a camera, laughing, dancing, my body white and quiet in the warm lights of someone's apartment, captured for an eternity in preserved black and white/color/measures 8 by 10 materiality. My body, my wonderful, imperfect, soft body, thrown in front of someone. It's the someone that bothers me more than the nakedness. I like feeling bare, felt myself falling into the delightful feeling of her telling me how beautiful I was standing in the hallway outside of my bathroom, on the way to the shower. Her voice telling me I was beautiful is far away now, separated by the distance of a year's time or more. But she's not the someone I'd be naked for. I'd be naked for me above all else, forgetting the ties to smelly men who are looking for someone, anyone, who is naked and looks hungry. Looking for eyes that beg, stolen glances, an ass in the air with a welcoming cunt staring back, a single eye that meets their gaze and then averts its own, always. I'd be naked for me if for anyone. Me and my nakedness, me and my body, me and everything I carry with me that they can't see, that she couldn't see, that she can't see everytime she talks with me. I'd be powerfully naked, warm, fiery, white hot, passionate, unleashed. I would be naked laughter and unpretentious sex (which reminds me that she said she'd throw anyone out of bed that could not please her, that she'd simply get herself off; I wondered where I'd be, wished I could have offered my services; I bit my bottom lip and blocked out the images of fucking her in the hopes they wouldn't show through my eyes). Unpretentious. The kind of sex that dissolves into laughter and re-forms itself, phoenix-like, into something hotter than it was before. My naked cunt, put on display before myself and everyone else. That's what I'm here for, and I think that's what I like. |