Archive-name: Dreams/incarnat.txt
Archive-author: Beth Winegarner   (c) 1993
Archive-title: Incarnate


        It had been days since I'd last seen you, and the time apart was
beginning to wear on my senses.  The solitude was making me begin to realize
the strength of my feelings, when we'd only known each other well for a few
weeks.  When I closed my eyes, your face, half-shrouded by memory
and my own illusions, lit up my mind.  And as I found my way into
dreams, on some nights, I was sure you were right there with me, caressing
the length of my back as if I were a cat that needed to be soothed into
placidity.  On the contrary; your touch kept me restless through the
long night.
        On this particular night of insomnia, I chose to act out the
forbidden.  Though I loved you, I was frightened to even imagine sharing
myself in lovemaking with you.  The guilt was immense; what if he found out
I was dreaming of another man?  What if he knew that secretly,
passionately, I thought of you and those thoughts only heightened my
emotions more?  But I had to do something before I went out of my mind,
before I acted my fantasies out in reality and destroyed everything I had.
I had to keep the thoughts from becoming flesh.
        And so I closed my eyes, and my deft fingers slipped down beneath
the cotton sheets of the dark bed, down into the recesses of my body.  My
left arm stretched behind me, above my head, while my right began to
explore the sense of fur and soft, padded skin.  It was the place I knew I
could never allow you to see, touch, tase, smell; but I could imagine you
in my place, imagine you making love to me as I made love to myself.
        The moment my middle finger found the small, hidden knobby
treasure, my mind flashed images of you and I, tangled.  Your mouth pressing
itself like a wound into my neck, my lips, my shoulders.  Your hands (it
seemed like there were eight of them) embracing every inch of my being,
pulling my body into yours like we were melting together.  Pictures passed
over each other as I rubbed my small, tender place; this felt like no
fantasy I'd ever had.  This felt like pure, intense memory, like something
long-buried and long-forgotten that had just now found its way to the
surface again.  And it was raging.
        I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't.  The pleasure kept coming
at me, pounding me; I felt you slip inside me, warm, heated, immense.  Your
body was heavy over mine, and I could see your long hair sticking to you in
the places where sweat had begun to bead up.  In my mind, your eyes bored
into mine, pulling back to look at me with dilated black pupils and
surburst-brown irises before the image slipped away and another, of me trying
to smother you with my own small pale body, came into focus.  My fingers
jerked hungrily, searching for the orgasm they knew was there,
hidden deep in the folds of my flesh.
        For one intense moment all the memories flashed before me like one
long reel of film racing out of control.  For that moment you were there in
the room with me, your pace matching mine, your thoughts and mine a single
dynamic of heat.  The shudders came and came and came, the vibrations
cutting into my soul like threads from another life.  The memory of you so
jagged, so real and fresh, had been a surprise.  And with the orgasm
arrived waves of tears, shuddering, knowing that I had somehow lost you
long ago.  Knowing I could not have you in that way again.  The pain was as
real as the images had been.  I missed you.
        I lay still, feeling the heat rise off of my warmed skin, the
shudders fading away again into peace.  My breathing stilled, my crying
became a shadow in the night as my mind wandered out into the land of
dreams once again.  I hoped to find you there, somewhere, in the mystery of
this incredible memory.
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