Sub Space

…each part must be pursued within my mind individually…

This part started with the voice. Before, all was play, all was exploration. Before, I was firmly delineated as myself. My breasts lifted with each breath, my hands reached and I felt each fingertip distinctly touching flesh. I could feel each hand on me, could feel the differences between our skins. I was whole and separate behind my eyes. But it all started with the voice.

How can I describe the way it changed? How do I untangle myself from the sensitive memory, and part Memory’s timeline from the body’s forever-now perspective? To spread it for a cool inspection is to put it from me. Yet, this memory is like a rare spiced flower, that must be appreciated in segments. Each part is so overwhelming that one must overlook the others just to contemplate a part– the petals so bright that the color both hurts and soothes, the chaos so heady that the breath catches in disbelief, the feeling of the plant so cool and delicate that fingertips slow in tactile contemplation. But there was no flower but the flowers of our bodies. I did not overlook other things when I fell enranced into that voice.

I remember that we played. I remember that we made small forays across our bodies, eye contact, murmurs. A rather dry wit, a rather wet mouth. I remember an odd but satisfying formality to the proceedings, the measured touches, a balance of reciprocity. My turn, your turn. His turn, her turn, her turn. They and I, we and him, us and she.

And then I was submerged.

Strange to me to remember it, strange still to experience it. One moment I was myself, contained within myself, but enjoying the moment. The next I knew, time had bounded like my pulse. Vague erotic memories of recent moments surrounded us like velvet criminal petals, but my awareness was not focused there. My awareness paused in confusion, but then I heard the voice. I don’t know what the words were– but the sound was enough.Quivering along my ears, my skin, I hear desire; amusement, approval, surprise. Desire. Her voice. She- no, you–

I could hear you murmuring, crooning at me as my body leaves along its journey. Ah, your sweet sultry voice with just a hint of animal, metal, sexual strain, your voice was like iron and roses, your voice was like the dream we were in. I had drowned in that sweet dream of your breasts, the feeling of our breasts together, the breath of you on my nipples. Your voice sheltered me, guided he and I, framed as much as your caresing hands. Who said three cannot balance, in a moment, in a space- balance was there, I was suspended and caressed in it.

And You, You guided everything with that voice of Yours. I was a balloon with You my string. I was a bridge with You my cables, spanning miles of warm sparkle. I was an electric storm, and You the clouds that made me. Your voice was becoming my reason for being. In the beginning was the word– no, the voice! For from Yourvoice was issued the whole world. Air sweet from Your breath, sensings from Your glowing eyes.

Every fingertip-length of my skin as it strained in sweat and silk, every breath i surprised and moaned for You, from You. Your female hands, the smooth taste of Your pussy, the feline lines of Your back and long legs. In this moment, even He was an extension of Your voice, His hands extensions of Your own. In this moment, i was the manifestation of Your words.The world was Orgasm, the world was netted in by Your voice.

Time had cocooned around our empire bodies and there we were, nestled in silver murmurs and sights. Your voice was protection, isolation, inclusion. Your voice was some ancient tome that i ached to read and savor. Sound and sense narrowed down, till all that existed was Your voice and my amazed body.

What a moment when from far away, some woman was sobbing with pleasure, gasping for breath. What a moment to realize that the sound was from my throat, but Yourvoice was what mattered. What a moment, bringing desire fast in its traces, bringing elastic incandescence in its grapp. What a moment, that i did not understand when You murmured: “She’s going into sub space…”, but i knew. i knew that every quiver of fulfillment was because of You. In that moment i lived only for Your touch and desire, for Your Voice. i knew that i was Yours.