We can love who we trust, but what is love without lust?

She was 47 feet long and a bit weathered, docked at pier H you told
me. I locked the door to my condo in which he was sleeping and walked
to the marina, too drunk on lust and adrenaline to think of anything
but the present moment. You held my hand and told me to watch my step
in my stilettos, and as I climbed aboard and descended into the boat,
the smell of motor oil and your cologne overwhelmed me. The music was
perfect, the disheveled state of your bachelor life at sea was so
masculine, and you were just too attractive to be true.

You embraced me and your breath alone against my neck was enough to
seduce me. I was under your spell, willingly submissive to your power
play. I’ve never understood that feeling, offering your entire self to
someone in return for whatever they choose to happen. I was your
decadent indulgence of the week, and yours to use. Your eyes full of
passion as you assisted me up the ladder into your bed, leaving my
clothes behind and nibbling at my bra strap as I wrapped myself in
your black sheets. You devoured my body with animalistic hunger,
scratching my anchor tattoo and smacking my skin, filling my mouth
with warmth as you couldn’t contain it any longer. Your fingertips
lightly traced my hips as the boat gently rocked with the waves, and
nothing could have distracted me from the tangled web of desire we had
woven, our bodies so alive and senses alert. In the heat of the
moment, your mouth sucking my clit and your strong hands gripping my
fair thighs in the moonlight, my back arched over the ladder and
staring up at the stars through the sails, as I came to climax, my
only thought was that this could not get better.

I awoke to the rocking of the boat as a cruiseship was leaving the
port, light rain was drizzling in on our hands, seagulls circling the
grey sky above. The fan was cooling us as we cuddled in the sheets and
you smiled sleepily as you kissed my forehead. We dozed on and off for
hours it seemed, your body pressed against mine with desire, your
fingertips exploring the lines of my curves. I felt perfect in your
arms. How did this happen?

Two days ago you were in the store, nervously asking me for
recommendations about erotic fiction, explaining that your ex is now a
lesbian who invites you over for parties, and telling me you were only
here on holiday, with your irresistible Australian accent. A drink,
you said, just one. No worries, I said, my number. It was instant
chemistry, I was yours before you said a word. I, who has never
dreamed of such a thing, was lost to the laws of attraction at first
sight of you. How do you explain the logic of lust? Is there
practicality in passion, is it possible to stop the magnetic forces of
desire, explain to it that you are not allowed? Life is hard and
things go wrong, bills are due and responsibilities await. But the
world still turns, and I am convinced that some things are out of our
control. Passion and adventure should always be a priority. Everything
happens for a reason, and people come into your life to teach you
lessons and help you find yourself a little better, even if it is only
through intense sensory overload and a few moments of truly feeling
alive before they leave your life again. It is better to risk being
happy than to be certain you are miserable.

Recommended erotic fiction at Tulip this week that will reignite your
love for lust:

- Flipside Erotica by Darren Michaels
- He’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission
by Rachel Kramer Bussel
- Aqua Erotica by Mary Anne Mohanraj

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