What of Desire?

In the swirling madness of a human heart, desire fluctuates.

Sitting in the gloomy conference room, you and him wait for the instructor to come back. The tingling is surging in your heart. Temptation strikes, as you glance at him in a manner so coy, that you hope he wouldn't notice.

You glance at his pretty face, his soft brown eyes, his curly hair -- those lips, that might be a little rough and chapped.

Suddenly, your heart noticably beats faster. You've always wanted to get in physically with someone, to know how it is, that love you've always seen in other people - that love you envy; to be able to hold them, cup their cheeks in your hand, and press your lips onto theirs.

But sadly, you can't, for decency's sake.

Whenever they catch you glancing at them that way, you always have to put a nice smile over it, take a shy step back, hide your blush, and turn around. You always have to close your eyes, so they don't see the twinkle that is there. (Otherwise..)

You can't deny it however. Before Humanity was civilised, it was like an animal -- an animal with primal desires. Hunger, fatigue.. lust..

and right now, that lust which lay dormantly in your heart is taking a peek outside, at that boy. Is it so bad that you have to hold it back? Is it really evil? A cardinal sin? No, you suspect that because it's so powerful, that if you ever unleash it, you can never turn back..

(it will suffuse you full of feeling and liveliness)

(it's so pure, too pure)

(almost, you want to cry)

If you could, what sort of goodness can you indulge yourself with this boy?

You start to whisper to him, gently, with a lump in your throat, if you could come sit by him. He nods. And so you shuffle over to the other side of the table, where he's at. Here, you can almost sense his warmth - he has on a light t-shirt, and you see the little red blushes on his arm, a scrape on his elbow that's just healing.

Your eyes catch.

You find yourself inching closer to him, as if the magnetic force of your heart is pulling you towards his. And he seems to be doing the same too, until you catch yourself almost touching him.

You see the nervousness in his eyes, his mouth almost ajar for lack of words, and then you imagine that he must be feeling more or less the same about you.

And then you ask if you could kiss him. Even though you've hardly known each other otherwise -- but hey, a kiss could be a nice way for a first impression.

And for a tense moment, you await his answer, and he tells you, yes.

Yes.

So you indulge yourself in what he tastes like; you enter his mouth, and you find his warm breath alluring, as you start dancing your tongue onto his, tasting him, his wet saliva, sending sparks into your brain, oh God it's wonderful,

(a kiss so tender)

and you push yourself into him, holding his shoulder-- no, his neck, and with your other hand, you hold him against you, and your breasts cushion you like a soft pillow, and your heart surges with electricity, and you shut your eyes entirely, moaning with him, wanting more and more and more--

Then you hear the door open. "What the hell are you two doing!?" your instructor pips.

..!

Pulling back from the boy is almost painful. His salty taste lingers on your tongue after you depart, and your mutual saliva settles down your lips. You pant, breathing heavily yet pleasurably, and then you flutter with embarassment - your instructor had to witness such an intimate moment, ooh la la.

All you can muster to your instructor is "Sorries," as you settle back to your seat, wiping away the wetness with your sleeve. For the rest of the lesson, you shamefully hold back glances at that boy you just devoured, wondering if you might have gone a little too far..

Still, it felt quite good, non?

And you're already looking forward to another encounter..