Whispers of Desires

Wishing that my fingers could trace a heart into your hand, I find myself lying here on the floor, staring at the ceiling while the storm rages outside. The rain pours in rhythmic waves, tapping on the windows as if it’s trying to communicate with me, and the lights flicker on and off, mirroring the turbulence inside my mind. It's the kind of storm that feels like it mirrors the chaos in my heart—the kind that shakes everything loose and leaves nothing but raw desire in its wake.

In moments like these, I imagine you beside me, pulling me close as the thunder rolls in the distance. I picture the warmth of your body, your presence a shelter from the storm, as I rest my head on your chest. The rise and fall of your breath would calm my nerves, and your voice, soft and reassuring, would tell me that everything will be okay. I’d be safe, nestled in the space between your arms, protected from the world and the whirlwinds of my own thoughts.

These thoughts—they haunt me, filling my head with yearning. My imagination runs wild, and sometimes it’s hard to tell where fantasy ends and reality begins. It’s not just the hope of your touch, but the deep, unspoken connection that I crave. I wish, with all of me, that I could reach out through time and space, closing the distance between us. I wish I had the ability to teleport straight into your arms, as effortlessly as closing my eyes.

If I could, I wouldn’t hold back. I’d kiss you mercilessly, without hesitation, without fear. My legs would open like a warm welcome, dinner waiting for you, anticipation simmering in the air. These desires—they get the best of me, flooding my mind with a need I can’t ignore. I wonder, if you were here, would you feel the same pull, the same ache?

If you were standing before me now, I know I wouldn’t stop until you were left weak, soulless, and spent from the intensity of our connection. You’d understand, without words, exactly what I mean. I imagine us, tangled together, our bodies moving in sync, matching the rhythm of our hearts. We could make love under the stars or drive through the country, where time slows down and the world feels wide and open. I’d wear a cowgirl hat or simply be your cow, your willing partner, ready to fulfill every fantasy that lingers between us.

There’s something about milk that has always appealed to me—its purity, its nourishment, and the way it fills me up. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always been drawn to the idea of being filled, of being connected to someone so deeply that I can feel them in every part of me. Is it wrong to have these desires? These thoughts that take over when the reality is that you’re not here? Is it wrong to let my imagination run wild when the only place we can meet is in my dreams?

I wonder if these desires will make you think less of me. But then, I remind myself that everyone has a side like this—hidden, vulnerable, revealed only when the longing for someone becomes too strong to ignore. We all carry that secret part of ourselves, the part that aches to be touched, to be loved, to be seen in the rawest, most intimate way.

I’ve always loved soft songs and peaceful things. I still enjoy the quiet moments, drawing with the 80s playing softly in the background, letting my mind wander. I can appreciate beauty in simplicity, in the way a single touch can speak volumes, or how a glance can ignite something powerful. But even in the quiet, there’s always a hunger. There’s always that part of me that yearns for more, that desires connection, both emotional and physical.

It’s natural, I think, to want to love and to be loved, to make love to someone in a way that transcends the physical and touches the soul. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel close to someone, to share those moments of passion and intimacy. It’s what makes us human, after all—the need to connect, to be understood, to be desired in return.

So I lay here, with the storm raging outside and the flickering lights casting shadows on the ceiling, allowing my thoughts to drift back to you. Even though you’re not here, even though it’s all in my head, I’ll hold onto these desires, these hopes, because they remind me of the depth of what I feel. And maybe, just maybe, one day, these dreams will become a reality. Until then, I’ll let my imagination carry me, tracing the outline of a heart in your hand, wishing for the day when my touch will no longer be just a fantasy.