This post contains some language and imagery that might be considered uncharacteristically sexually explicit for me.
Some time ago, I left a comment for Marian Green in response to a beautiful and inspiring post of hers called Whisper. What I wrote was intended to be a personal comment that belonged to her blog, but today changed that, and so I’m sharing it with you.
Today, I read a post on her blog that was equally ugly and heartbreaking. It made me cry. Like me, Marian writes anonymously. I tell myself the reason she has a bazillion followers and I have… well, I really do appreciate you more than you know… is because she writes about sex, but the truth is, it’s because she’s an amazing personality with a brilliant mind and a beautiful gift for words.
I’m not going to go into a long blah-blah about anonymity and respect. I’ll just ask each of you to remember that this particular invasion of privacy can completely ruin someone’s life, so unless they ruined yours first, please keep your ducks in your own pond. And please click on the link to read Marian’s last whisper.
Marian’s words often brought me a closeness where I felt like she was reading them aloud to me… with insanely bright red lipstick like a Rocky Horror Picture Show intro and a voice as seductive as Marilyn’s. Her post told us to whisper our words without touching her, and I wanted her to feel what she made me feel. Here (slightly edited) is what came out…
Don’t be afraid. It’s only a whisper.
It tickles a little. I know… warm and gentle under your ear. It’s okay. It’s only a whisper.
The tiny hairs on your neck rise in alarm when they feel my breath. “Marian!” they warn. “She’s so close!” Hehe! No one can hear them. They only whisper!
Goosebumps rise at your nape, toppling down your body like tiny little dominoes of joy, telling me when to stop… begging me not to stop… worrying I will find the one tile that fell astray and I will know where to stop. Worrying the secret has already been whispered.
I breathe you in. You inspire me! You know you do! I’m so close, and the cool air pulls you past my lips to savor your scent. Your perfume has faded. It’s the whisper of you… you! …that quickens my heart, and you feel me tremble with yet no touch.
close. I can feel your skin whisper.
“You’re so beautiful, Marian!” My lips tease the outline of your shoulder with my words. Tiny…… p-p-puffs….. of air. Somewhere a fallen domino whispers in surrender.
I let out a long, slow, gentle breath, perfectly, as smoothly as I can. In the perfection, you can feel my flaw, my heartbeat on my breath, tracing the curves of your breasts with the tapping pulses of excitement, “so beautiful!” my lips pause to listen to their lie, “the domino fell here!” Their lie is but a whisper.
I crave them!
“Shh!” I whisper. …and my breath licks the little liars.
You are as excited as I am. As I relax and breathe over your tummy, rising and falling with its undulations of anticipation, always close, never touching, it happens. A tremor. I can’t tell… whether it’s jealousy or ecstasy… whether it was you or me… when I feel its whisper.
My lips devour you. Every beautiful inch of you. Your crying muscles and your smooth, deserving skin. Touching only the tips of the titillated…
hairs, champing at their follicles, angry now that they can’t lay flat and pull me to you. I reach the scent of you. The secret, spicy wisp of that last fallen domino… never out of place… Strong now. Adoring! Enjoying!! Wet!!! And in their ravenous haste, my lips accidentally touch you. More than just a whisper.
It’s only a whisper.
© 2013 Anne Schilde
Author’s note: Marian’s blog is no longer accessible and so I’m sorry, and I removed the link to her post. I don’t want to paraphrase her.