Eros & Agape

I’m slowly rotating my hips and staring at him. It’s him and only him, always has been. Even before we met.

I’m on fire; if you were to touch me right now, you would get burned. My desire is violent.
My breasts are full and throbbing, I’m shaking and sweating. Creating friction is quick and easy, but not nearly as satisfying as when he’s inside of me.

I never truly came so much, so hard, so quickly before that fated day. I bit his neck. I needed his blood in my mouth. Nobody has ever wanted that man more than me, his children more than me. I worship his cock because it saved me; I’m neurotic without it. I begged him to finish inside while I writhed around on top of him, possessed by Eros. Please god, please cum in me. 

Sex without love is not sex, it’s meaningless masturbation; my infinite, undying love for him is the only reason I am able to have sex in the first place. Sex is just as innocent and romantic as it is fiery and passionate. Sex brings me to tears. It’s the reason I was virginal before him, the reason I always wondered if I was a lesbian, or if I should just give up on my sexual nature entirely and practice asceticism for the rest of my life.

B, when I met you, I learned that to give up on Eros and Agape was to give up on life itself. A life without it is no life at all. To taste your lips and wrap my legs around your waist is my greatest thrill. In your eyes, I recognize and remember myself and God. I’ve seen hell, but now I’ve seen Heaven. Thank you for helping me see. 

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