The Boy with the Filthy Laugh

THERE WAS THE SILENCE. That indiscriminate pause, capable of bearing the wind aloft, when the world is stopped and awaiting its continuation. You can’t say that it was broken because it came from within the silence and suddenly it was there. It was a familiar sound to you, yet heard differently for some reason.

In retrospect you will try to shape your thoughts into words and never really feel that you have captured what your body knew. Was it like those wailing sounds belched from speakers calling the faithful to prayer in dark Arab states where their bodies react instinctively? Perhaps it will seem to you as though you had heard an alarm, like an air raid siren calling all to the safety of the underground, perhaps still it was the Sirens of the Myths calling you like a sailor down into the depths of the sea. Yet call you it does and you respond to it.

You are waiting for that very first piano note break your trance when you feel yourself swept away upon the rolling waves of music washing upon the shores inside your body.

You feel yourself in my arms as we dance lively to the rhythms of the music. The story of The Boy unfolds in hypnotic melody and lyric falls into incoherent mumblings with only punctuating fragments clearing the haze. Punctuating; the sensation of my hand gliding across your back as you swirl inside the dance, as you feel yourself surrendering into my touch.....a long time to pass you by.....your feet barely touch the ground and we go around and around the music, holding hands, our bodies pressed together..... in this old town......

From your eyes I can see your smile brighter than from your lips, the world blurring around us as we swirl into our tempest….Hovering silence from you is a giveaway….the feeling my body of my body against yours is the appropriate response to your alarm. You feel your blood coursing through you and is electrified by the endorphins in your brain while it rushes to the centre of the alarm.

You close your eyes.

The salt of our dance is pleasant on your tongue. My lips, your lips; we kiss. You hold me tight. My arms are around you pulling you close to me. Your hands grasp my shoulders and I sense the hunger in your kiss, seemingly an exploration into you more than me. I feel you squeeze me tighter as my lips discover in their own explorations. Tenderly we continue to explore each other, more than just our tongues and lips, but our bodies and our hands, and ourselves too….we better go

You recognize your body’s response to the initial alarm as it intensifies. You body, knowing that the rhythm has remained the same and the alarm itself has penetrated deep within you, and awakened the phoenix who slow to arise.

The kissing never stops. Sensations that are new to you make you feel maiden as your surprise continues to delight you. No longer can you question the rising of the phoenix, whether she succeed or not you must take chance….she is as pure as the cold driven snow….

You take me in your kiss, drawing me into you. Your hands clutching me, drawing me closer you. You begin feeling the hunger of the phoenix throughout your body, and like the Addict you thoughts are only of feeding the dragon, it is your need. The phoenix is rising and you welcome it to consume you in fire and ash….anything good….and the old prison food

Something is amiss because you feel the hunger deeper than before and our kiss blends into it. You draw me and I enter you. Feeling me inside you is opium and you longingly drink in the pleasure expanding through you and beyond you. You are taking me….I missed the bus….and you feel my thrusts deep inside you, pounding you….you were laid on your back…with the boy from the arab strap…. your body and your mind shout yes in explosive fury and I become….the boy from the arab strap….

You feel my thrusting is faster and deeper inside you; filling you, filling the hunger. Our kiss never stops and you are sucking my lips, testing my tongue. You feel yourself pressing down upon me and you release yourself from our kiss. My hands move to your breasts and take them gently, my thumbs upon your nipples, I squeeze them ever so tenderly, your body explodes, and you discover that the thrusting is you. You feel yourself surrendering to Pan, mystically rendering you unto animal sexuality which comes like wolves over frozen plains to great the fire and ashes….old compton….the asian man…and you feel yourself going into a dark alley to be taken, your submission final. You feel the thrusting inside you, pressing down and the phoenix stands.

Without knowing your hands have seized me as if in a bid to hold on, but not to me but to the rising inside you as you feel it expanding and receding; you feel me thrust deeper….and lascivious boasts….your arousal fuller than ever before, the wolves outside your door. You feel it leaving and you never want to let it go, the thrusting inside you deep, you quicken, drawing out from deep within….the boy with the filthy laugh…the boy with the arab strap

You release the phoenix and it explodes through every cell of your body sending electrons to alter the orbit of the sun and your climax crashes down upon you and moves through you like magma through the core of the earth and piercing you from a million circles of light. It continues into eternity the flames consuming your rigid body as it takes what is rightfully yours until there is the ashes, hot and smoldering; it subsides.

You relax and your fingers are sore from clenching, tears have formed at the corners of your eyes, and you ask for a moment before I can hold you.

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