The pressure, it’s so intense. On the edge of biting pain, teetering so I must focus, I have no choice. The grip of your strong fingers, just under my jaw, wrapped precisely tight enough around my neck, remind me. You could grip it tighter and restrict my breathing, but you won’t, that’s not your purpose. As your other forearm pins my hair to the mattress, ensuring my head is immobile, my chest is heaving long, drawn out breaths. I feel my brow pursed, not in surprise, or in pain…I’m overcome. I’m completely and totally immersed in you. In the heat of your skin and the rawness in your stare. It’s not your grip or my immobility that keep me looking at you, it’s your eyes. They take AND they give, at once. I see. I feel. I am that exchange between us.
But, it’s that pressure, that constant pressure on my chest that makes my brain follow each and every movement. Harder it presses down into me, then a little less so with each thrust, slow and long and deep, up and back. That forearm, resting just above my left breast, the same one connected to the fingers that grip my lifeline, pushes and presses into my chest, seemingly to the beat of my heart. Or, maybe my heart begins to match the pulse of you, I don’t know. But we move and press and pull and beat and see, as one. You are the control, I am your balance.
And that long, tender part of my chest today, reminds me. It reminds me how alive that heart is, beating beneath. Beating to the pulse of you, in me.
It’s my favorite reminder.