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Click hereAnticipation by Tim
Anticipation is such a nice word, so tender and mild. You are almost forced to slow down as you say it, To draw out your breath in an affectionate lilt.
It is such a succulent word, finishing with the sound of someone putting a finger to their lips. It is a mask hiding the bitter face of lust, hunger, and need. By its nature, anticipation teases and taunts us, it ridicules us even as it calls to us.
It calls us, not to debase ourselves nor to keep us from some higher purpose, rather It calls us to humble ourselves, to admit to our pretensions, It calls us to recognize the worth of participating in something greater than ourselves.
It is thus, bound as I am, teased and tormented by your tenderness, that I open myself to you. By the way my body braces, I know, physically, the inestimable value of the violence to follow, And I beg to receive the blessing of your mercilessness, untamed and unsullied by restraint.