the night treats well

The thing is,
When his mouth found mine, there was this instant shock at the impulsiveness of it all.
And then instantaneous relief.
And then instantaneous pleasure.
His hands on my body felt different, but I did not move away. Simply because I did not want to.
And I did not want to stop, although the randomness felt overwhelmingly, well, irresistible.

No guilt. No uncomfort. Just as if for those moments it was moulded to feel so, and it did, and it shouldn’t be any other way.

What is this fire, man?
This chemistry without chains, threads, commitments, promises or expectations; without a coming awkwardness and without regret.
It has no face, only body and sensation.
I spill into it with the gracelessness of a child; not often letting it dodge my thoughts, roaming around with my smirk as my trophy.

I remain tight lipped. This isn’t a high school drama, and this isn’t psychotherapy.
But I crave for more. And more. And more. Don’t. Stop.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
I feel it may turn out to be better than it look if I go back, and if it stays that way.
I feel plump with curiosity.

I’m up for this.
I really think I could be.