"It may seem strange to connect these three: love, meditation, death. It is not! They are similar experiences. So if you can enter in one, you can enter into the remaining two."
- Santo Carol Neiman
She couldn't take it! The licorice was too strong in the absinthe; it made her face turn inside out. Handing the cloudy glass to me, her face twists, "You drink it." Downing the glass, I wasn't crazy about the taste either, but I can't waste anything that costs $100 a bottle. Besides, absinthe provides more of a trip than a buzz; so...bottoms up.
Our nude picnics became a fast tradition. Honey. Fruit. Skin. Cheese. Feet. French bread. Tea. Although homemade, this experience feels very extravagant. Miles Davis barely in the background. Fine art made by her own hands adorning the walls. Naked limbs casually intertwined. Conversation sweetly spiced by sudden sighs and moaning. This moment is a five-star suite of sensations.
Finishing my own glass after drinking her's, I found her foot to be next. Then her breast. Arm pits. Earlobes. Bottom lip. Pussy lips. Clitoris. Chugging down her body's juices, my hand wraps around her thighs to give myself better access. Mango, cantaloupe and her natural fluids harmonize well...the silver platter rattling across the floor offers a tinny percussion...shit.
Our picnic has been disheveled. A new banquet has been revealed and I can't take my face from it. My tongue won't withdraw from its taste. Breathing becomes secondary. My nostrils are filled with her full seat. Breathing becomes occasional...delayed... My mouth is busy sucking, probing and dancing. Pulling my head further into her, I love the way she's responding. Moans, hisses and my gasps harmonize well...my heart rattling in my ribcage offers a cautionary percussion...shit.
Catching my breath, I could feel the life returning to my lips. Light headed, my body fights to recover from my betrayal. Concerned, she looks me into the eyes, "Are you alright? Say something," her voice is distant. Surveying my level of consciousness, an in-progress dream overlaps the sight of her worried face. Taking a painful, deep breath...I'm okay.