Nightly Visits

Sort of a half erotic, half abstract piece, I suppose. A bit of sexual contact.

Men were rugged creatures. From the strong slope of their brow and the prickly stubble adorning their chins, to the hard, hair-covered muscles of their legs, it was almost as if they were hewn from stone like the golems of ancient lore, or evolved from the feral beasts of the snow-capped mountains to the east. Men were machines, not to be admired, but to be utilized. They were beings of intellect and free thought, above the vapid mindsets of women, though they frequently indulged in their bodies. Men were wholly unlike the delicate, effeminate creatures that constituted the opposite sex. With their warm, inviting hips, the crimson dusting their cheeks, the swell of their breasts, and the curve of their waists, what other purpose could they serve, but to be nothing more than objects, bent on pleasuring and entertaining men, taking their seed, and bearing their children. It’s not as if they could have come into existence for any other purpose, their minds too slow, burdened by many a frivolous and petty thought.

And so they lived as toys, depending on the tentative and ever-fluctuating mercy of men. Life was infuriatingly dull and passed like a meaningless dream, filled with the vague outlines of masculine figures visiting them in the night, taking their pleasure with them, not a word spoken, only the sound of the guttural grunts, akin to that of a swine’s, and the sharp intakes of breath permeating the air. When it was not this comatose hell, it was anxiety pervading every waking moment, fear of losing their lives or being cast out on the whims of their unprecedented superiors. 

And as Julliet felt a languid tongue trail its way up the creamy skin of her thigh, she forced herself to consider all this, ruminate over all that she had known before. Cerulean orbs peered over the soft hang of her stomach, framed by thick lashes, a decidedly feminine addition to a very fair countenance, the lecherous young maiden had come to the conclusion that she very much favored this precious, and far more intimate nightly excitement over the carnal preferences of men. Never, in all of her many winters, would she had thought two women could lay together. The charming vixen resting between her legs had proven her wrong in that aspect.  Before the very first time she had ever made love to another human being, partaken in the pleasures of the flesh, she had considered it inconceivable that she would ever feel an attachment to another. Not only had their physical shells connected in ways previously unimaginable, she found herself longing to constantly be in her presence. Though she did enjoy their nightly escapades spent in each other’s arms, sweet nothings flowing incessantly from their lips and hot, wanton gasps against whatever erogenous zone was being lavished, the time spent together, speaking freely and without fear of being overhead, she cherished. 

A heat-filled kiss was planted on her lips, and Julliet believed that she could get used to this, to happiness.