I think I should like to bite you. Not hard enough to draw blood, not like Mike Tyson, but I should like to bite you hard enough that it hurts, so much so that you will not forget it, not ever. I would bite you slowly so it might be interpreted, initially, as a sexual overture, but increasing pressure until it becomes uncomfortable, and then painful. Until you felt alarmed. And then go one second longer than that moment, long enough to give you a burst of panic, a shot of adrenaline.
That is how I would like you to remember me if you think of me again, as pushing past those warm places where love bites tickle and into the slightly scary place where you momentarily lose faith in my intentions, and then question your own ability to understand the world when you wonder if I meant to hurt you. Of course I never meant to hurt you, you jackass. It's just that love hurts sometimes.
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3 comments:
I used to date this girl (a psychologist) who liked to bite during love-making. I can honestly say that while I initially found it erotic, I would often find myself in that void of uncertainty as to her intentions, as the pressure of her bites would increase. It always had me on edge...
hmm...bitey...vampire...
Brown, is being on edge a good thing or a bad thing, though? I mean, seriously.
Paul… yeah. Like that, sort of.
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