The Life and Loves of Aaron James

He ghosted a smile when he saw Jami again and came up on her; she smiled a shy violation and cast down her eyes. Her consent margin weakened momentarily to his condition when he was moved by the tenderness of her body and drew her toward him. The inaugural hesitation to their touching changed to light pressure, pulsations passed between them and a conspirational whisper traveled, “I loved you so much.” On stage J. D. Prince began a new song, Look At Me, and Aaron softened in a cloudburst.
An emotion uplifted and spread fear over him, it faded opaquely. His manifest anger hardened and seized the realization of a hurt she’d been driven to; they looked at each other. Their risk of injury was exposed and she was off balance, her staggered weight against him relieved them of disquieted feelings. He helped her progressively with the supposition of his body and looked upon their wholesome confrontation securely. Her reactions were densely accentuated and she tried to fit through the clothing around him, her hands textured the form of his body. He refused to duplicate the rapid joy filling their possibilities and a uniform madness came over him.
They stood on the riverbank with their fingers laced and listened to the river’s currents running through broken jewelry. They were discreetly wetted by the catharsis of running water and a preferential emulsion, living on the edge of their purest blood violation, clung to them. Aaron delivered his amnesia of the past few months to her and the pull of a compassionate discipline accelerated domestic body relations. He pulled her into the river where the spray of water induced a nebula to enthrall them, and hope entitled them to that crossroads.
Those giddy currents maneuvered the laconic swagger he negotiated for Jami’s compliance, which he frisked vainly against her melancholy body when she recanted her comprehension by locking arms around him. They were compelled by the rushing waters borne over them and her poetic embrace clung to him. Aaron was gratified by her numb strength taking him however paralyzed she still was by complex emotions twisting her away, and this rift interrupting them solely wielded her offhand admission, “I’ve had enough of making love to you!”
He disarmed the scavenging stare making this up and overhearing her temper sobered him vitally. A dash of reproductive harmony working in his favor departed from this blueprint, and its ideal death rate was an affirmation. “I owe you,” and he imagined a lot about the care of a woman. She disengaged her vineal clinging antiquated in limp symmetry, and he missed her throbbing tempestuously against him.
He was stroking the salient cheeks of her buttocks and molested his fingers gently between them, he mused on the deft sigh crackling through her body. Her pensive choice and handsomely festive body language hampered him, she purred disruptively, “oh Aaron, I just wanna die,” and her intake of ephemeral concession broke upon his vindictive temptation. She daubed her skillful posture and squirmed her pelvis; her arms strapped their gauntlet around him.