She can feel the bubbles rising. Buzzing in her veins. So close to the surface. Almost visible. Pulling her ever tighter, these invisible reigns. So claustrophobic. Finding it hard to breathe. So hard, so hard, fighting the restraint. It’s building up. A vexed volcano, will it cease?
Go on, go on, and don’t stop now. Fuck it. Fuck you. She wants more.
Sweating in frustration. Desire sizzling off every droplet; she can’t help but admire this extravagant bouquet. So tight the strain, there’s so much to gain, she wants the burn. She craves the pain.
She needs it fast. Has to have it now. Is it obvious? She hastily worries. This frustrated state; barely able to keep her sanity locked away. Dream after dream she’s had. Awoken anxious, impatient, wanting, needing. The very worst kind of withdrawal.
Take me now, her body screams. She may just explode; detonate like an unstable, potassium bomb. Ticking away as each new second passes. Becoming more vigorous, danger be known.
One kiss, she nearly lashes out, the touch on her lips; smouldering, vibrant, sensational. A rush to the surface, pinned against a flimsy barrier.
Lunatic balls of fire cackle within; breaking off, going wild. Like a stream of fireworks set loose in a hen house, they threaten to burst.
It all seems to take off on a whole different level now; so close the bridge of serenity. As it lingers, the tornado all but shatters. Everything clashes to the floor; leaving burning, emblazoned hormones, encased in an enraged figure, amass frustrated, desire ridden fumes.
She knows she has it bad when it becomes all she thinks about; sex; that passionate rapture so far away, yet so close; a kiss, just a taste is enough to awake a lustful frustration; deprivation kills as she’s left with simply a kiss; simply not enough.
