Through The Looking Glass
Is there a better time than the dark, to sit at a desk and scribble? Without a moon or stars. Just frost at the window of the widower's abode. Writing:
"Through the looking glass of frosted cataracts
Reflecting my past of memories tied in a bow..."
Placing my pen back in the well, I stepped to the door. Seeing the night, like never before. Freed from the guilt of her passing. I moved through endless galleries of my mind. The night was chilled and the moon was pale on the moors. A cacophony of silence bellowed the wind. Sticking to the window as frost. It was as if the season was out of turn. Gazing over the plain where I have seen rainbows over her grave.
Yet I felt a breath of fear, deepening the shade of night's shadow. Perhaps only the serpents of my mind were yawning.
" But! Is it my mind or my I? "Is it my imagination or angina causing my anxiety? Are the ghosts on the moors making the night colder?" As I shuddered with anticipation of the pain. Chained to my thoughts stepping back into the world of blurred words.
But it felt like something more, like someone more. Suddenly my skin felt the heat of her hand, though nothing was there. Without warning, her breath on my neck sent a shiver down my spine. An unexpected longing filled my loins and my ability to tell the difference between reality and fantasy ceased to exist.
My mouth was invaded by a tongue I couldn't see. A taste tormenting me, seducing me, making the need that I had so neatly tucked away, come crashing to the surface, like waves upon a shore. My breathing hitched as my body responded to my desire for her. I felt though my heart was breaking all over again until she sighed and placed my hand upon her breast.
As my hand enveloped her delicate flesh, a translucent figure appeared before me.
She was panting and needy as she whispered, ďOnce more darling, please, once more.Ē
Her lustrous hands made quick work of my trousers as she led me to the bed that she had not graced with her presence for so long. The sheets seem to invite her back within their folds and me along with her. And though her figure was still but shadowy, she emanated heat which defied logic. I was completely naked and vulnerable as she led my rigid shaft into wetness that didn't seem possible. My cock had not been firm like this since she left me alone in this world. My lust, which had abandoned me, now coursed wildly through my veins as my need for her grew along with my length and girth.
Without warning, I was completely engulfed by this ghostly seductress as she rode my aching manhood like a jockey riding a steed. Again, and again, she impaled herself on me, as her all but transparent cunt fucked my cock like a whore.
ďOnce more, darling, please, once more,Ē she begged again. She continued to use me to pleasure herself. I could feel her slick walls swell as her arousal heightened until her orgasm struck her as she cried out words that I didnít understand. I felt my balls tighten as my sperm was ready to fill her. I exploded deep inside her, but the moment I did, she was gone. I was utterly alone, covered in my own cum, left to wonder if I had imagined her or if I had gone completely mad.
Then I looked to the window again and saw her ghostly figure, looking at me with eyes shining bright. Before she turned to ascend back into the night sky, she stopped for a moment and whispered, ďThank you, darling, thank you for loving me just once more.Ē
"With pages of love letters in a portmanteau, And a pressed bouquet turning to crumble"
Written by adagio
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