The Secret To Bliss

The sun descends over the skyscrapers, like a golden shine through your bedroom window, the city only past the trees at the end of the garden. If only the winter had stayed longer, now into autumn as the anxiety starts to rise, the warmth poetically rising the lust within you, so many experiences leaving footprints on your soul, a flame unable to progress past a spark.

The duvet feeling like a cloud of softness, the pillow helping you to descend into the void the sun provides. It seemed like a little too long, the chill coming through the windowframe, the family haven't arrived back, the chill that starts to sink into your soles enquires your mind. The boiler kicks in downstairs, the metal encasing the radiator slowly heats up as the room tiptoes in temperature as the blueish night sky descends.

They'd always stop off at the Pizza Hut, at the corner of the vast shopping parade, mostly comprised of parking space with big white buildings lining the rectangle that was the shopping parade, often without a hint of asking you, the reality of being a twenty five year old. The house was pristine, and so were the morals of the people living in it, modern yet so slightly god fearing and always pushing to make a lasting impression of their place in society. You had always been forbidden, as long as you are under their roof, the job market bearing little ftuit for your education, to discuss or in any way suggest a relationship with the lust that filled so many people, a fact that alienated you from your family.

The smell of lavender from the garden wafts faintly, exotic in a way that touches a nerve, a nerve that puts the butterflies through you, only one that brings temptation. The room gets stuffy, but all in your head as it had only gotten slightly warmer,  a mind trick deceiving you to give in to the throbbing in your flower. A thought that dares you, tiny sparkles of ice trickling down in circles towards your labia, anxiety returns, fear of them returning colliding with your one escape into comfort.

Before a few seconds have passed, the lace around your thighs feels flimsier as you pull your knickers down, stomach sinking as they leave your feet, high alert as you relax and descend on to the bed, fully relaxed. A feeling of sinking into the sea as you take your top off, an experience rarely realised as you see your body in a way you had been forbidden. Your fingers feeling like a sour rush as you touch yourself, the fear now suffocating but disappearing as you get wetter, giving into lustful abandon.

Visions in your mind, all the sex symbols you'd glanced at, the wanting consuming, yet memories flooding back of simpler times. Your wetness allows deeper exploration, new pleasures coming with every new inch explored, you dare to moan as the pleasure progresses and your nipples hardening that you love to touch. The sex scenes on TV, over produced for fantasy, the wonder of the touch bringing you closer, your clit feeling desperate to give you an orgasm as it feels unbearable to touch. As the air in the room drips with stuffiness and you start to sweat your flower starts to tense up for a beautiful orgasm, the wetness now covers the sheets, a blissful secret with excuses, you feel free.