The sex chronicles of my imagination

The silence is killing me. You’re no longer touching me; you’re just laid there staring at the ceiling. I get up quickly and pick up my dress off the floor placing it in front of me and I run into the bathroom. You nervously sit on the bed while I leave the room.   What am I doing, what the hell is this. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing…   You knock softly on the door, three times.   -         Hey… Are you ok?   Your voice shows concern. In the heat of the moment, it all seemed to make sense, like it was meant to be, like we’ve known each other forever but now… now we are standing in separate rooms, and no idea what to tell each other. Questions flood our minds as to what this all meant and how we move on from it.   -         Yeah – I open the door – I just… I should probably go.   I slip past you looking for my underwear composing my hair, rushing to leave, because I can’t seem to have...

  I can still describe the moment I first saw you as if I’m stuck there. That precious little moment when I forgot the magnitude of who you are. The sound of your voice, the deep giggles you share. Could barely believe you were even there. Is this real? Can this be happening? How are you of all people sitting next to me? Who are you with? Are they friends? Family? Can you understand how tense I am? My heart is racing. I have butterflies in my stomach and in places I’d never think to be having in your presence. You know, I have only dreamt about a moment like this… never ever though a coincidence like this could happen. You are wearing a T-shirt and some jeans… Look at that clean, slick, chill style you always wear. I want to be cool… but your presence is making this so hard…. Look at your arms, ripping that clean white T-shirt… that perfect skin. Your muscles flexing as you move. I think my friends are noticing… Noticing how I zoned out of the conversation, how I’m biting my lip… C...