(Note: This is a re-post from my original blog on my previous website.)
That’s where my arousal sits.
Perhaps not quite literally. Arousal is not a slow moving creature; once it takes you it rushes into every corner of you like a wild, possessive beast. Once inside you, it fills you; leaving nothing of your former self behind. If you’ve ever experienced arousal, I’m sure you know what I mean.
But where it starts, where it enters the body, that’s a slightly more unique and individual thing. For a great many, it starts with the eyes. Humans are visual creatures, and we place a great value on the aesthetic quality of things. When it comes to bodies, having something delicious to look at often plays a large role in arousal. We take in that curve of a hip, swell of a breast, flutter of an eyelash and instantly turn it into ideas. You know the kind I’m talking about. If we see a think we want, it won’t be long before we start imagine having it.
But the eyes are just one way for arousal to enter the body. For some, it’s the ears; the sound of the right dulcet tones sending pulses racing and loins tightening. For others, it’s all about the touch and feel of a body that really gets their motor going. And of course, to a certain degree, it can be a combination of these things.
But for me?
It’s your taste.
It’s not a specific taste, like chocolate or mint. It’s not something that I can easily define or describe to you, and I can’t tell you if you have it before I taste you. But when our lips touch, and our tongue brush, that is where my arousal finds me.
You can feel it in my deep, sometimes sharp intake of breath. It pulls a soft moan from my lips, almost every time. My body melts into yours, unable to allow even the tiniest bit of space between us. That taste, your taste, is the key to my awakening and all the glorious things that follow after.
Sometimes I wish that I were more visually stimulated, or that I could find myself in that heightened space at the sound of someone’s voice. But then again, would I give up the ability to be somewhere, anywhere, and find the memory of that taste revisiting me? To feel the ghost of that taste revive my arousal anew, and for it to follow me around until satisfied?
Bite your tongue, darling. Not in a million years.