The Swords of the Ancients

This weekend’s Trifextra Writing Challenge features something a little different from the standard. Typically, and Trifecta Challenge centers around a inclusion of a specific word, for which we are given a word limit of between 33 and 333 words. However, a little-known holiday happened to roll around this past week, and so our weekend writing was given an appropriate celebratory theme. November 15th is apparently National Erotica Day, and so we were tasked with crafting just such a piece for the “TrifeXXXtra.” Now some of my readers know that this isn’t a typical theme for my writing here, but it’s still one I’ve tackled in the past. As such, I thought this would be a fun chance to expand my writing portfolio yet again. Without further ado, I present “Necessity.”

“Necessity”

I needed to feel him again. There was incredible warmth to his skin, an almost radiant heat in his touch that caught me by surprise every time we made contact. It was like this no matter how long it had been since our last night together.

The simple brush of his hand on mine was enough to send my mind racing, dreaming of what grand adventure he might have been planning. I don’t know that what I felt for him was love, but there was no denying that I felt something beyond physical, whether it was his hands, or his lips, or his tongue… His first kiss brought me to life. The spark of the brushing of our lips carried with it all of the forbidden knowledge I’d yearned for, changing everything I thought I knew.

It was intoxicating to be around him. His favorite cologne smelled like pine trees, and after we’d been together I could still smell it, mingling with our sweat. I would ache for hours afterwards, but I reveled in it. He would shower and leave for work. I would stay curled up in bed, basking in the afterglow. Eventually I’d make my weak-kneed way over to the bathroom for a shower of my own.

We would see each other as often as we could arrange, but it was never enough. He seemed inexhaustible, and always wanted to take me as many times as he could in a single visit. No matter what we would do to mix things up, he would still leave me shivering in ecstasy after each climax.

I wanted him, and I hated myself for it. I was supposed to be strong, independent, not whimpering in orgasmic bliss beneath him, but I couldn’t help the way he made me feel. It ran counter to everything I’d thought about myself before we met. Still, when we found each other, there was something indescribable. I needed to feel him again, and I knew he needed me too.