Oculophilia: The Look of Love

     There are so many ways to get inside of a person. Beyond the metaphysical and proverbial, I am learning that our body is riddled with doorways and portals. Orifices. Weak spots. Achilles’ heels. Alternatively, it seems that our body is designed to invade. We are gifted with fingertips, slick tongues and cocks that are made to squeeze into the tightest spots.

What's Sex?

If it isn’t the supreme act of passing through skin,

penetrating through barriers?

If it isn't the suppression of our natural defenses,

relaxing through the invasion?

Case & Point

     Making out with my boyfriend, we found ourselves in a very intimate and trusting space. It seemed as though every kiss, every touch was loaded with orgasmic energy. I couldn’t touch enough skin. My nerve endings became gluttons for pleasure. Our deepest kiss made me thirst for more depth. We have sparked a dreadfully insatiable fire, spreading beyond our control.

     I love the way he surveys my body. With great interest, he traces my lips with his fingertips… He slicks my eyebrows with his thumb… He kisses my nose, one nostril at a time… Pressing his lips into my forehead, he began to kiss my face all over. Cheeks. Lips. Chin. Eyes.

     Struck by curiosity, he began to dart his tongue over my eye. His voice softly commands, “Open your eyes.” I could literally hear my eye forcefully twitching as I fought to keep them open. I could hear the whistle of my brain’s insistent command to squint and close. Feeling the wet, tip of his tongue grazing across my eyeball, the room filled with a black and white haze.

     Although it wasn’t painful, a high pitched whine escaped from my lips as I felt his tongue squeeze itself within my lower eyelid. I could feel every instinctual alarm go off in my body as my vision become coated in his warm breath and spit. I began to fear for my vision.

     In his tight embrace, he found and deflowered a hidden virgin. Careful. Delicate. He did not want to hurt me. As my body grew more and more quiet, this sensual act became a form of meditation. We both became very still and silent as he tasted my sight. I felt so close to him. In a moment of complete vulnerability, he was so gentle. A sexual metaphor, his style of eye licking suggests he‘s a considerate man.

What’s love?

If it isn’t the shedding of one’s own protective layers?

If it isn’t the forfeiture of one’s own preservative instincts?

What can I say?

I’m in love.