Passengers - Sex Stories

Passengers

There's already hesitation in your eyes as the car begin to slow down. I can feel it, your hand squeezing mine, the other on the steering wheel. Just a light clamp of pressure like that from familiar skin can say in seconds what hours of conversation may still dance around. I want to tell you that we don't have to do anything. We can turn around and go back to our separate beds and sleep next to who we're spending our lives with. The ones who see us every single day, even though we've become like statues to them: Something they easily recognize the cut angles and specific planes of. But, the inside is a mystery living beneath a surface that is durable, but cracked in places you can't see until you get very close. None of the words leave, though, because I think we already know. We can pretend that the loneliness we share, this warped gravity that draws us towards one another, somehow lessens the severity of what we're doing. That, maybe, we're like objects on space that have spent years on a course that can only result in our collision. How much of that is true, that we're an inevitability, I don't really know. What I do know is that we have craved one another for a long time now. Only a few weeks have passed since we were together last. Every day and night since has left an ache in me I can't stand anymore. Especially at night, when I'm in bed listening to the relaxed breathing of a stranger who has shunned my affections for too long. I never knew that kind of pain ...

... before, an awful abyss opening up inside from simply not being desired, regardless of what I tried or how much time passed. It's a pain that made me retreat further into how much I long to see you. Just touch you. Be inside of you. I see the same ache in you as soon as we started going down the road. A longing burning in both eyes that only we seem to understand in one another. One that only we know how to quiet. Your seem to sense this, how our need only swells more when we're around each other. You pull off into a small trail we know of around here that goes on for miles, all winding gravel curves that dead-ends into virtually nothing, just a big stretch of forest and camping grounds where the road was never finished. Plenty of places like that around here, city projects waiting on replenished funds or developing subdivisions, usually. Places perfect for sneaking off to once you're in a situation where you must seek out discrete locations. It's surprising how many are out there. It's like all these narrowing trails, incomplete roads, and solitary tracts of land exist for us at night, dark pockets of the world to hide in together where we can temporarily share our own little universe. Once we're on the trail, the headlights barely seem able to cut through the black cold night. On either side, there's nothing but the vague silhouettes of hills, skeletal trees that will remain bare for months. The shadowy outlines of their branches are like gnarled and thin monstrous fingers, some ...