Gals of Rebellion (Series) by Brian M Viveros

Gals of Rebellion (Series) by Brian M Viveros

I want to have really powerful, intense sex…in slow motion.

(this may get graphic, children)

I want to feel every bit of what it is to love somebodies body.

Because that’s what it is.

Without fail, sex is always a form of love.

Yes. It is.
Because surely we all know damn well enough, love isn’t always a pleasant, kind hearted thing.
I want to feel every hair on my arm cling to a sliding finger.
Feel the giggle-esque nervousness of my skin.
And I want to slow down the “I want you” inhale-exhale sequence to the point where I’m being inflated. And then burst.
I want to see the muscles flex the way they did in the health and science videos, every vein exposed.
And I want the sweat to fall like tiring rain on a window pane.
And I want every grasp and cling to go the speed of the way you first press your hand down into memory foam; real slow like, just to be able to watch it push back.
I want to watch our bodies push back.
And pull.
I want to pay attention to every pause and why it’s there.
I want the speed, the depth, the intensity; but I want enough time to focus and catch that one face that’s just passionate enough to scare the living shit out of you.
That you go to bed thinking about.
The face when everything was truly one, and no matter the situation or circumstance, that one face is telling you
"I fucking love you right now."
For a split second. It’ll be there.
And I want it.
Even the look with the eyes tightly shut. But you. You still know every thought in their head.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. I fucking love this. Thank you."
Sex is always a thank you. And it is always out of mad, crazy love for something.

fucking miracles.

fucking miracles.