Step Into The Sensual World. Category: Quick and Dirty
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Writing this piece made me cry. I’ve been crying a lot lately – probably ought to look into that I suppose.
I’ve been feeling quite despondent about AI and, in particular, the impact that it seems likely to have on the creative industries (ie utterly devastate them), as well as, you know, the realistic chance it will kill us all. I’ve also been thinking about how, to me, the idea of people being moved by something that has been regurgitated by some machine code that has rehashed writing which it has stolen from real humans, is so desperately depressing.
I shouldn’t waste nervous energy worrying about things I can’t control, but I can’t help it; it’s in my nature.
I wanted to try writing something that expressed the beauty and sensuality of the sexual act in a way that wouldn’t make sense to an AI. I wanted to write something which AI couldn’t because it can never truly understand what is going on below the surface in those transcendent moments. I used as a template the exquisitely beautiful and achingly human song by Kate Bush, ‘The Sensual World’, because AI can’t understand and feel what sensuality is.
I probably failed, but failing itself is human, isn’t it? Please tell me it is. Please.
***
Mmmm, yes.
The warm evening light spills through the break in the curtains, hurriedly and imperfectly yanked together when we fell onto my bed this afternoon. I stretch like a cat rolling onto my back: delighting in the flexion of my joints and muscles, pleasingly tired after making love with you.
I dangle my fingertips lightly onto the skin of my thigh and brush them across my flesh and upwards, over my belly to the space between my breasts. I shudder. My body is still aroused; hypersensitive to touch. The sensations of you are everywhere. I can feel your hands on me still, your kisses on my neck, your cock in me, deep, so deep. How many times today?
I can still taste you; your seed upon my lips. I took you into my mouth, fastening my lips about the end of your cock, delighting in the blended flavours of your semen and my lubrication – your cock had been buried in me just moments before – as you emptied yourself, your fingers entwined in my hair, breathing my name over and over. I will swallow you; oh, not a single drop will be wasted, but first, mmm, yes, I wanted to hold you in my mouth, savouring you.
***
You surprised me in my reverie by holding my face and fastening your lips to mine. My nipples, achingly hard and tingling, brushed against your chest as I opened my mouth to you. Our tongues intertwined; your come and my fluids blended, mixing. They became the medium by which we conversed; tongues caressing. You painted the inside of my mouth with the flavours of you.
But I’m greedy—I want it all. I take it back from you and – mmm, yes – I place your palm over my throat. You close your hand so that your fingers are gently gripping, and you can feel as I swallow. I swallow again, two, three times. I want you to feel me in the act of swallowing; I want you to feel how much I need to have you in me.
Mm mm, yes.
***
He bestows new names on me; appellations which make me giggle with pure joy. He delights in my soft, warm flesh and tells me that it reminds him of edelweiss – yes, that’s it. You know? The little mountain flower, so pale and delicate and tender, yet possessing such beauty and resilience.
His orgasm has made him temporarily giddy. I may be young and delicate looking, but I am fully a woman and fully possessed of the magic that emanates from my feminine self. Mother Earth herself – mighty Gaia – flows through me. It’s everyday sorcery but real, so real, you can taste it… Oh – Mmmm, yes!
And now he does taste it, going south on me, deep down, and his tongue now drags across the folds of my pussy, glancing over my clit, sparking, spasming as I groan. And now I – yes – Oh god, oh fuck. I’m spent; into his mouth that is fastened tight to me, no more willing to spill a drop than I was.
***
We read each other erotica, taking turns. It became a game where the listener would caress the reader until they could not muster sufficient concentration to carry on, and then we would step from the pages and into each other.
But he’s sleeping now. I watch the rise and fall of his breathing, in-out, in-out. In and out.
The sun is dipping to the horizon, and the honey-coloured sky is visible from where I lie. The glow of it falls across the bedroom floor, and now—the sun so low—it falls across my naked body, clothing me in a chemise of shifting colours: gold and coral and burnished bronze. If I sold myself to drape across the arm of a millionaire (how Machiavellian!), my closet richly filled by his largesse, I would never wear a gown as fine as this golden sunset. Versace would weep to see it.
And I wouldn’t have you.
***
I decided several days ago that I love you. I searched myself, examining, interrogating. Is this just lust? Is that what has swept me up so that I feel as though I’m drowning in you? Or you, drowning in me. You’re the ground: solid, dependable, and I am water that flows over you; my body moulding itself to you, into you; forming itself around your hardness – yielding to your shape yet shaping it in its turn.
Water sculpts even the hardest rock to its will, in time.
I had a speech prepared, but I’m not eloquent when I’m with you; I don’t want to stumble and mess it up. I watch you as you sleep. Those soft lips are pulling me in towards them.
Of course, I realise, I don’t need words. If I have to say it, it isn’t real. All I require is a kiss. One kiss, then another and another.
You wake to the kisses which I’m planting on your lips. As I come into focus, your smile – that smile that melts me – spreads across your face, and your huge arms are around me and pulling me to you until there is no space between us.
***
You flip me around so that I am beneath you. I put my hands up, arms above my head, my hair is spread across the pillow, and I want to arrange myself into a picture which will fix me in your head.
You rise to your knees and, reaching behind your neck, unfasten your jade pendant. You reach behind my neck to tie it there, and I arch myself to facilitate it. You examine your handiwork and, reaching behind my neck again, untie the leather thong and re-fasten it so that it hangs lower. You pull it gently and position it in the cleft between my breasts. I can reach for it to admire it, you explain, and perfectly innocently brush my fingers against you there when I replace it.
Mmmm, yes.
I have been hardly aware of myself while you’ve been performing this rite, but my hands, I realise, are there. That part of you which penetrates my body more deeply than any other. It’s growing and coming to life in my hand, stiffening. Your breath is on my neck as I gently run my hand up and down, up and down. Up and down. So hard for me. Oh god, it’s so hard and it’s for me – all of it.
My thighs are spread; giving myself, and I drag the head of your cock through my wetness, our lips fastened together. I could come already; oh fuck, I could come right now, but not yet. No, not yet.
My hands are on your muscled backside as you slide into me again.
Mmmm, yes.
Love, Jaimie xx
Links and Stuff
I went through a couple of years not so long ago where my weight yoyo-ed quite wildly. Because mental health and shit, yeah?
The picture at the top was taken when I was at my heaviest. I’ve been conflicted about it since I took it. I love it as an image, but hate the way I look in it. To cut myself a bit of slack, the angle from above, which foreshortens me, is really not flattering.
As my life has stabilised, so has my weight, and I’m just in a much better place all round. I still don’t love the way I look in this one, but I still love it as an image, and I’m at peace about sharing it with you, at long last.
Incidentally, and apropos of nothing, I think it might be the first picture I took wearing those shoes, which have become a staple of my boudoir selfies. I won’t lie, you wouldn’t wear them for a night out on the town, but for this sort of thing, they are just perfect.
This is the third in my irregular series of pieces inspired by songs. The first is here. The second is here.
5 thoughts on “Step Into The Sensual World”
The way you write this is incredible. I felt love, desire and lust, among other emotions, in such a unique way. Thank you.
Ahh, thank you so much! I’m thrilled you like it. 🙂
Great to read another musicly inspired posting. And yes, how could AI ever hope to come close to the artistry of someone like Kate Bush?
Thank you, Matthew, and welcome back! I will do some more song-inspired ones next year but I’ve got some other stuff lined up next which hopefully you’ll enjoy as well. Jxx
Sorry, musically not musicly! Maybe spelling mistakes will be a way to spot a real person online in the future?!
And great, looking forward to all your future posts