Hot breath and the dangerous ocean

Your body draws me towards you, especially your eyes, emanating depth and mystery.  I am standing upon the beach looking out at the dark and dangerous ocean, taunting me and compelling me to strip off and dive in.  I move towards you simply to hear your voice clearly amidst all this ambient noise, and I can smell your breath, warm and familiar.  I can taste it in my mouth like we're already kissing, but I don't want to impose my hasty intensity on you just yet.  I lean closer because the noise is surrounding us like waves crashing upon our rocks, but somehow this proximity and focus keeps us both dry and it's like I don't even hear that noise.

Nothing has more clarity to me right now than your beauty calling to me softly.  Is that the heat emanating from your body that fills me with warmth right now?  Or is it all that extra blood my heart is pumping to my extremities?  Every waft of rich breath I taste from your speech makes my cock swell just a little.  There is a voice in my head compelling me to kiss you right now in front of all these people, but no, now's the time to listen and see you and discover what common ground we have to stand on.

When we experience what proximity provokes, what is mutually possible in this moment, maybe we can experience each other directly.  But first we have to look each other in the eyes, we have to feel intensely into the reality of the moment, we have to try to speak without hiding behind chatter and culture.  We have to engage with how safe we feel to reveal ourselves, to be vulnerable and pathetic and beautiful and unique.  I want to get naked with you in a profound sense that is not visible to anyone else in the room, but I can't be sure that's what we both want.

Maybe first we have to find ourselves a little island we can share and feel safe, if only for one momentary delightful conversation.  Or maybe in this shared moment we can get naked together in the most basic sense and so start from there, start from the simple tangible undeniably present flesh of our mortal forms, where we can wordlessly touch each other in the terrestrial sensory ocean of incarnation.

In the danger of this swelling, sucking and crushing beach we must navigate between the earth and the divine, stability and chaos, between heaven and hell, the sacred and the profane, flesh and inevitable death.  We can grasp at each other's overwhelming but tenuous bodies before we're inevitably torn apart again in the rip, before we're washed up on the shore or dragged out into the depths.