It came in one night, with a passion that I could not ignore. Crawled into my bed as I was laying there trying to reach the ignorance of sleep. It could see my vulnerability as I lied in the bed, trying to make the sheets spread over me in ways unknown.
As I lied there, I could feel it creeping onto my skin. The light touch from my foot to my hips. I knew it was wrong, but I never flinched. It touched my chest and finally I could feel a breeze on my lips. That was my chance. I should leave, exit this trap, and not allow it to go any farther.
But I think I wanted it to consume me, because it gave me an excuse that I could use to not live life to the fullest. It slowly undressed me, and I did not place a hand on my clothing to stop it. The cool air hit my skin and I shivered, but never once pulled the sheets over me.
I knew it was wrong, I knew I had the power to stop it, but I relinquished my title. I let it become stronger than me. It grew stronger with every falling article of clothing that came off of my body.
It entered me and I did not scream. It was like my body was prepared. It continued to enter me until its penetration reached my heart. It enjoyed that pulsating, warm part of me. But it loved my heart. It did not take too long until it reached my soul.
There it spread its venomous semen, and it impregnated my mind. Its job was done and I was just one of the countless bodies it inhabited.
I am still trying to shake that night off my body.
I am still trying to forget the night I had sex with fear.
P.S This post came from a prompt someone asked me to explore. What if you had sex with fear? Hope it was a good piece. Thank you!