Posted by pghrain , Sun Sep 11, 2011 03:04 PM
A short dance....
I am so horny. Sitting here thinking about you in that short dress last night. I can still see the sway of your hips in the pulsing club lights as the bass drop hit me in the chest from the speaker I leaned on. I know you saw me watching you. You swiveled your hips around in tight little circles pushing your breasts up with your mouth smiling and parted at the lips. I could see you breathing staring at me, daring me to dance with you. Of course I couldn't help myself. I moved across the dance floor letting the music guide my shoulders and legs into subtle moves as I got closer to you. You never took your eyes off of mine. All I could do was smile as we started dancing in front of each other. Your body moved in rhythm to the music insinuating sex and sweat. My hands reached out touching the curves of your hips as they moved. I found your rhythm and moved my hips in closer putting one leg between your thighs. I wish I hadn't worn jeans so I could feel the silk caress of your skin on mine. My hands dipped down to stroke your thigh just below the hem of your dress. An illicit touch in a crowded club I know but you seemed to like it. Your own arms wrapped around my shoulders your fingers tracing the line of my shirt around my neck. It made me hard. My cock strained at the denim begging for release and a soft wetter touch. I think you could feel it against you as you pushed your hips against me in time to the pumping of the music. We both kept grinning and gyrating. The only two people on the dance floor moving in rhythm together. The song switched tempo and rhythm. A deep bass line pumped hard and you turned away from me only to lean into me. You pushed the split of your ass right against my cock and I could feel it slide against you even through the fabric. So erotic I barely even know how I contained myself. Your hips moved up and down and side to side as if trying to work me into you through our clothes. It made me think of how you would take me into you. Slowly working the tip in and further still until buried inside you. I thought about your wet pussy drawing me in, all the wet folds hugging my shaft tight as you pushed side to side stretching yourself out to accommodate me. I bet you would even reach a hand back to grasp my balls and pull them tight against your clit just loving the feel of me buried deep inside of you. But the music pumped on and I had to pull back the fantasy lest my restraint fell through and I would be compelled to unzip my pants, lift your dress and push into you despite the crowd. You could sense my hesitation as I faltered in rhythm for a split second and with a coy grin you turned back to face me. I kept dancing with my body against yours feeling the brush of your hard nipples through our clothes as the softness of your breasts pushed hard against me. Our mouths only inches apart I could almost taste your breath. I leaned in a little turning my head to the side and exhaled on your shoulder and neck. The blood pumping hard through you showed a taut vein that I longed to brush with my tongue and teeth. I wondered if you were as wet as I was hard. It took all my restraint not to slip a hand up your dress to find out. I'm not even sure if you were wearing panties and the idea of your bare pussy inches away from me renewed my vigor. But you pulled back. Maybe I was having too strong of an effect on you as well. Maybe your wetness was already beginning to drip down your thighs. If only you would let me have a taste. Then your girlfriends came up behind you vying for your attention. I stepped back not wanting to intrude too much. And you turned giggling and laughing with them dancing with them sharing the sensuality in the very air. I smiled and returned to the bar. I leaned back and watched you dance and thought of all the positions our bodies could make. I thought of all the soft and hard lines our arms and legs and hips and lips would make pushing and pulling at each other. I never even heard your voice last night but in my mind I can hear you moaning in orgasm with me. I can hear you say “More!”. As I sit here with my cock in my hand pulling gently remembering every curve of you, I remember watching as your friends pulled you from the club. I remember that last look and smile you gave over your shoulder as you left. An air of apology in your smile as you left with your friends in a hurry. I never got your name. The raw sensuality of that dance fills me still with passion and my hand pumps harder on my cock as I remember every touch and texture. And then when I can't hold back any more, I remember your eyes and the way they looked at me, those dark pools that drew me in, captivated me, mesmerized me with every glint and knowing glance, and then, I come.
Posted by pghrain , Tue Aug 16, 2011 04:46 PM
Will you walk down long stairs in a short purple satin night gown as if in a horror movie to fulfill my fantasies? Would you undress slowly one strap falling as if in distress. Would you toss your twisted hair and breathe quick and heavy as the fullness of your thighs rubbed lightly together from the fluttering of your legs. In the darkness as your torso doubles over the kitchen island would you feel me gently move from the shadows behind you, my naked flesh brushing against the curve of your now exposed ass cheek? It's okay to let your breath catch in your throat. And would you lay still in that moment as in the fear of anticipation. Would your pussy lips drip wet in excitement almost preemptively opening for my hard member waiting to pierce the vessel of your flesh. Then, sensing my flesh ridden needs would you turn your head to the side letting your hair tangle more before falling gently against one ear and lift your ass higher in the air as on your tip-toes you pirouette in place. Would your hands clasp the roundness of your ass to part the way for my hard member so it can pass in one quick thrust the soft wet folds of your labia. And if I thrust just once and came inside you because the anticipation was to great would you be satisfied? Or would you need my pumping vessel to thrust again and again hungrily into you stretching the yearning muscles of your insides as you tighten and squeeze me to your own gushing climax. After being spent would you force my withdrawal before I had come only to turn to face me and fall to your knees to show me your appreciation with an animalistic show of passion. Your mouth enveloping the head of my throbbing shaft. Would you devour the salty droplets forming at the tip of my cock mixing with the wet lubrication of your exhausted pussy. Would your tongue tickle the ridge of my hardest extremity as deeper into your mouth you take it until it throbs its hardest and spews forth the full potential of its moment. Would you swallow gently to remind me that I am yours because I can fulfill your fantasies and needs and because you have always fulfilled mine?
Posted by pghrain , Mon Aug 15, 2011 04:32 PM
The perfect cream skin covering the shell of your flesh. The round curves held by your bosom and by your hips. Those curled toes held tight and taut. To that over-encompassing ache and pleasure coursing through the veins of your soul. Coursing through the nerves on electrical overload.
The small of your back dipping gently to the curvature of your spine. The tiny hairs raised in anticipation on the nape of your neck. The circle around and center of your petite navel. The long knobby joints of your gentle fingers interlocked into a rougher, stronger hand. The texture of your red full lips, pursed and pressed, then opened and receiving the intimacy of another's mouth. The long tendrils of your hair tumbling across your back, your breasts, your shoulders.
Slowly, then hard. The wetness of your inner folds receiving the rough texture of a mans hardness. The shape and curve of a girth ridden member pushing deeper. The depth of penetration along with the tickling, nappy hairs of a taut scrotum pushed hard against your inner waist. The sweat streaked skin of strong arms wrapped tight around the softness of your flesh.
The entirety of your body bouncing back and forth, up and down, to and fro from the thrusting hard, muscle tightened body lying over, yet against you. Explode in powerful waves and let the crest roll to a slow trickle as out pumps the essence of sexual ecstasy exuded from the hard thrusting member now buried deep inside the tight walls of your garden.
Posted by pghrain , Sun Aug 14, 2011 06:54 PM
It was an open door you stood in front of. The night caressing your back with its all enveloping embrace. A smile playing at the corners of your mouth turning a soft rose into a wanton crescent. Lips that have not yet met mine. Surely I see their plush exterior with rolling mounds, subtle creases and a pink moistness that begs to be consumed. Your cheekbones stand high and regal just under the double pointed ellipses of your eyes. Eyelids half drooped and full of thick dark lashes curved in obtuse angles defying gravity. The night shade expertly applied to those thin mobile membranes. Blinking coquettishly you reveal to me the effervescent glow of speckled azure reflecting sparks of diamonds or orient pearls. Small pinpoints of midnight black impenetrable and unrelenting retracting and contracting with the belabored rhythm that my heart pounds against its cage begging freedom, release, harmony. That is what I shall call you, my unnamed lady, Harmony. For your face is music. Music set to an off 2/3 beat. Your hair long and draped cascading like distant waterfalls down and down and down. Parted and wisped the strands do not fray but speak to me promises of silken caresses and memories that should not, but will be, had. A gentle draft preternaturally drawn wafts through those dark and glistening tendrils that tumble around the symmetry of a heart shape with a rounded point. The deep intake of breath slow and steady through my nostrils fills my mind with the scent of hidden vanilla with a dash of an unknown spice. It speaks to me of foreign markets, mysterious women, veiled and chaste smiling where no one else can see. And times of old where barter is the only true currency. I invite you in with your scent. To draw you away from the unknowable into the unknown.
I wonder if we need words or if our eyes can speak a language all their own. A language perhaps older than time itself. Love is not what I speak of. Or maybe our bodies shall know the language and be able to communicate in ways that wind, breathe and chords never could. I search the supple form of your body. My eyes demanding clues, and cues, as to this esoteric primeval language. Surely the magic of words conjured by the sway of your hips will be a metered poem that stanza by stanza I can immerse myself in. The fullness of your thighs perhaps singing softly of things that only the nuclei of our cells can remember or endure. Your feet dainty yet proportional to the total five feet of your stature, say mystery, foreshadowing and indulgence. Or maybe my mind lies and its the buds of your breasts brassiere-less with two pinpoints from the cold nipped air that speak of indulgence. Never over indulgence for your body wasted not by making the pliant mounds a companionable size. Compact yet round and firm with skin taut and perhaps glistening when the candle lights eye may flicker just right, prismatic, through a thin layer of sweat that you exude in the cleft during exertion from the many trials and errors of this forgotten language. My own body begs of yours “Speak to me, tell me what you know not you know. Tell me what you have forgotten, what you remember, what you want to know and what we should not know. Speak to me so that I may learn.”
Your eyes have caressed my body as long as mine has yours. What do you see? Do you see the not yet fully taut muscles of my chest and arms. Or of my legs, slightly spread, that hold me erect although they beg to be supine intertwined with your own. It may be the first time that we have seen the contours of each others flesh. Yet the carnality of our looks speak for themselves. I want to show more to you. I want to show you everything that is me. Every tendon and sinew, every follicle, every pore. Every tear shed in pleasure and every drop of wanton sweat.
You step farther into my home. The silken sounds of your thighs in mutual caress as one foot is placed in front of the other. I watch your peregrination past my place at the door gazing longingly at the profile of your face and body, enjoying the show of curves rippling and swaying lithe and graceful. Like a young lioness in lazy play you move until I can see only the back of you. Your hips straining at the fabric of your mid-thigh pitch black dress. The rounded curve of your tush pulling the hem up just an inch hinting of hidden places that can only be warm and inviting.
Trying to keep my mind from jumping too far ahead I close the door with barely an audible click as the shaft falls home. My eyes never leaving you I watch as you stop at the doorway of my living room. Your head turning slowly eyes taking in the simplicity of the room while the musky scent that only a bachelors pad can hold for any seasonable length of time finds your nostrils as if insidiously planned. I walk towards you daring not to make a sound and disturb your thoughts. Five feet away, then closer until barely a breath separates us. My arms reach around you encircling your belly easily. I lean down and forward immersing my face in the mass of your hair. Inhaling your sweet scent I draw your body against mine until I can feel your derriere against my thighs and your head on my shoulder. In my mind I pause time not wanting to displace our temporal bodies form this simplistic union.
Your hands reach back towards me. Your dainty fingers light and almost playful fall upon my thighs. Your well groomed nails dig into the naked flesh. Not painfully but in a dominating way. Such subtle direction I feel as your blood pumps through you into into the tips of your fingers. The heavy pulse causing sensations on the surface of my skin. Our esoteric conversation has begun with this simplistic hello. My hardening member has a soliloquy it wants to shout out. It takes all my strength to restrain its ever eager voice. My hands have yet to sing to your breasts and to your navel and to the wetness of your innermost folds. My tongue has yet to make inquiries into the mysteries of your mouth and lips, the valley between your breasts and the small of your back. My member must wait until my mouth has spoken to your neck telling long soft stories up and down its length in all its harbors until I hear the echoes of that music against my lips. I yearn to master the syntax with every part of myself on every part of you. I need to know every nuance so that our bodies conversation is rich, deep, and full. A conversion and convergence of types. Let our bodies say all that they can until their proverbial throats are dry and raspy yet completely fulfilled. A satiation that is transcendent of all else.
My fingers curl against the fabric of your dress pulling the hem further and further up until it is within my very grasp. You release your nails grip on me and raise your hands above your head to facilitate my readiness for your nakedness. I draw the dress the rest of the way from you only to find an absence of all but flesh. Your beauty is truly splendid I note as our bodies separate for the distance necessary to have performed this act of disrobement. The caramel color of your skin accented by the many candles flickering to a rhythm all their own as they rest in strategic locations around the room.
I take you by the shoulders and turn you to face me. You peer up from beneath those long dark lashes and I enjoy the power the coyness of that look has on me. Tilting your chin up closer to my face with the tips of my fingers I look fully into your eyes. You seem not afraid and surprisingly not even inquisitive. You seem to know what is going to happen next even before I do. Almost as if this was merely an occasion of deja vu that I'm not privy to. So I take the moment to exert free will if such a thing truly exists. I lean down and embrace your lips firmly with mine. Our eyes close and our mouths open. Of what do we speak? Beauty. Your tongue soft, yet confident knowing when to push, when to pull. When to hold back teasing, and when to beseech yearning. We have already begun to dance to our own sensuous music. Our hands seem to find one another. The soft places of our flesh yielding to each others touch. Your nipples harden in excitement against my torso. You place one leg between mine. The top of your thigh brushes against my scrotum as my hardness is pressed tighter against your abdomen. You snake a hand between us lowering it until you find the tip of me. Your draw it tighter against you almost as if you intend to merge it with yourself through the skin itself. There is so much turmoil I feel inside at the newness of this once spoken, never understood language. I break off our contact pushing you gently away from me although your hand lingers on my fully extended extremity. Your eyes glint knowingly seeing through me into the weaknesses of my flesh. My urgency is not foreign to you. Maybe you know of ways to subdue that urgency until we have had ample time to explore the vast repertoire of words of this other language. I can't help but smile at your seeming expertise yet in my mind I dream that I am the first that you will explore this old language with. Our lack of actual verbal communication enhances my fantasies. I crave you even more for your indulgence. For what stories could be told if it were not for the mind of man and his passions.
You let me push you farther into the room. Walking backwards your eyes never leave the area of my gaze. You read my responses so well that if I but think of something you do it instantly without hesitation. Like smooth jazz we interact; Ever responsive, beautiful and building to a climax of counterpoint proportions. Your body running out of space falls back onto the couch that has been folded out in a makeshift bed. A thin mattress overlaid with white cotton sheets protecting you from the thin interlaced metallic bars that can be felt no matter in which position you lie. You tactfully ignore them even though I myself have tossed and turned upon their sleep encumbrance often enough. Still your eyes smile at me and I cannot seem to escape their hypnotic spell. Lying down over top of you my scent glands again remind me of sweets that my tongue longs for. This alone has the power to break my gaze from your face. I look longingly at the hollow of your throat. To either side I can see just beneath the skin the steady pulsations that keep you alive. My mouth falls upon those soft places lingering as my tongue presses against your skin firmly enough to feel your beating heart as blood is forced through those vital arteries. Louder that beat infiltrates into my skull. Resonating and echoing throughout my body as I become paced to your rhythm. I feel like the peculator of your life force as my mind fails to determine the difference between your body and my own. Perhaps its the significance of myself that is lost in the language that hast not been named. Because something is only significant when it is solo or perhaps more aptly put – unique. Together with you I lose my own significance. It is the music, the voice our bodies make that is now significant.
Tasting your body piece by piece my mouth works down towards the swell of your breasts. Engulfing one engorged nipple at a time I suckle gently. Maybe my body is mocking its early stages of development whereupon only moments from the womb I had suckled to gain strength and sustain life. A moment at which I knew not that I was alive; as now. This language belies knowing what it is to exist for that is never a formable question in its vocabulary. Always assumed in the nuances we cannot ask “if”. We cannot ask “when” or “how” or “why” for they pertain not to now and the all encompassing rapture that is union. A union so strong that I can no longer feel your fingers traversing through my hair or the palm of a hand that slides down the nape of my neck across my shoulders until it finds and holds a firm tricep. Nor can I comprehend the exactness of my own hands. One cupping the breast that my mouth suckles, the other tracing the outline of your form, rib by rib, across your waist to your hips finally reaching around to grasp a cheek of your ass. Nor can I discern where my abdomen ends and yours begins when you arch your back and thrust your hips to push against me. The urgency no longer mine alone but ours. Even the air in the spaces between us is no longer separate. It too feeds on our music until it becomes a liquid membrane that surrounds us. Thickening until it to is like flesh. One flesh that is contained within itself. No part can escape from any other only the sensation of movement in the form of synoptic electrical storms raging unchecked through hills and valleys, stone and earth, water and air, and blood. Only a small part of my subconscious tells me which of those hills and valleys are mine. It remembers for me my shape so that I can return to form once our song is sung. It also records for me these movements as events in time so that I may later understand them for now there is no time. Only urgency, sensuality, carnality, and ever changing notes and chords, beats and melodies, rhythms and crescendos.
My mouth moves on tracing the valley of your stomach to meet at its epicenter. Your navel is not the common circular shape but is instead like a thin ellipse standing on end. Almost drawn into a straight line. My tongue fills the hole trying to illicit more shock-waves and sensations from you. I am rewarded with tiny blasts that echo through you into me. Reverberating back and forth they grow until contact is broken. We try to hold onto those ever so slight waves basking in the comfort of the intensity of their flow, although I still yearn for other aspects of a language I never knew. I long to hear the deep notes sung throatily and the high notes sung shrilly.
Farther down my mouth finds an unfamiliar place. A place that is not on my own body. A carefully groomed place where all hair has been removed to better facilitate the sense of taste and the sensation of tongue on raw flesh. A place of open flesh. A place of parting flesh. My mouth finds a quite unfamiliar taste but certainly not unpleasant. On the contrary quite intriguing. My tongue explores this parting flesh quite ruthlessly. Pushing past soft folds into deeper recess where a wetness not of my making lingers. A growing wetness that all but demands to be tasted. And what sensations attack our union as my tongue happily thrashes in its new found place of warmth and wetness. Deep and high notes interchanged as my tongue dances deep and then shallow brushing repeatedly against an almost imperceptible outcropping that has hardened by some unknown force. Inquisitively I examine this new protrusion from every angle. From above and below, to each side and directly on top. I wonder if maybe this is some fruit or prize that I have been awarded for my endeavors so I take it fully into my mouth sucking gently as I once was on your nipples. And such similarity with the buds from your areolae. Yet I still can't help but wonder if maybe there is something I'm missing. Maybe I'm not doing what is necessary to procure this prize and call it my own. Fueled by your ever increasing cries I suck harder and again begin to explore its intricacies with my tongue. Higher and higher the notes of our mutual voices rise and I become more fervent in my actions waiting for the blessed outcome of my search for an unknown treasure. My only fear is that a breaking point will be reached before I have found what I'm looking for so I steady my tongues action. I keep a constant rhythm still searching, ever searching as sensation after sensation courses through you back to me and through me back to you. Then as I fear the breaking point approached. I felt it coming but only to late. What a wondrous sensation befell us as the breaking point was breached. A sensational explosion of insurmountable size erupted within you from I know not where for it felt like it came from everywhere at once. Shock-wave after shock-wave pouring this way and that feeding off each other like a row of firecrackers setting each other off only causing larger, more grandiose explosions. The feeling was incredible but I was mildly chagrined for I feared I would never know the true nature of the hidden protruder that I though was my reward. I separated my mouths embrace from its little form although my tongue remained gently caressing it a few last times to better memorize it so that I could find it again. Perhaps exploring the next time would yield better results.
You seemed to sense my mild dejection. It seemed you wanted to make it up to me by giving me an alternate reward since I failed at understanding the hidden one. You draw my head towards you with your hands letting my lips stop every few inches to kiss and taste the parts of your skin I had almost forgotten in my urgency of exploration. You draw me up until my face is above yours and I notice a new glint in your eyes. A soft glaze that sparkles across the whole of your cornea instead of just against the irises. Your pupils dilated fully to a size matching the explosions of sensations felt only a few breathes before. Your lips smile at me but not mockingly. Perhaps I did do something right although I know not what. I only hope I can discern what it was before our time has finished.
With a hidden strength and mild playfulness you push me over so that now I am on my back. You lean over top of me and ravenously attack my mouth with yours. Your lips and tongue tasting the wetness I had tasted between your legs. The wetness that lingers on my lips and chin that I had forgotten about. Something about your animalistic cleansing inspires sensations that originate somewhere in the depths of me. Again you check my urgency by slowing your pace. Your mouth leads your tongue down my chin to my throat where you mimic my actions. Your tongue now feeling my heart's rhythm, fast yet strong. New sensations well up within me until they course through our unions fluid viscosity. Yet unlike my efforts you pace those sensations never allowing my body a reprieve between them. My hear beats even quicker until I can feel it throb in the long thick shaft that stands erect quivering with each pulse of blood.
Again it seems you sense my thoughts as you reach a hand towards my engorged member. Your fingers wrapping around it squeezing tighter and tighter and then relaxing gently. My own cries began to form. Foreign syllables in a syntax still young and underdeveloped but growing breath by breath. I suddenly realize in my throes of sensation with your hand engulfing my protrusion and your lips and tongue dancing upon my neck, that you can read my thoughts because we are one in our sensations. You merely read the sensations and flow with them pushing or pulling them in whatever direction you want to take. Such advanced syntax skills and such a large vocabulary you seemingly have although I still imagine that you're learning as you go like I am. Only you seem more adept. Although I suppose women have always known more about extramongra then men. Extramongra I now know is the name of this unionistic language. Now knowing the vocabulary I only hope that we can from some neologisms that no one else has ever formed. I believe we can for that is the nature of extramongra. As a language it is always changing and is never the same. Perhaps, and this may be merely fantasy, but perhaps extramongra is the embodiment of chaos.
I cannot dwell on these thoughts for more then a breath for your lips are now near my navel and an organ of mine that has never been embraced by anyone before. My stomach trembles in anticipation as your lips traverse its length. You coax such frantic sensations from me biding your time before you let me experience the sensation of your lips on my cock. I can't help but call it a cock in my urgency for it longs to crow. The sensations of anticipation become too much and I feel forced to act before every fiber of my being breaks down into a quicksand like substance. Somehow my hands find their way through tumultuous sensations to your head. I certainly can't see anything with my overtaxed retinas for my eyelids lay heavily closed, pushed shut by a force I still do not fully comprehend. And somehow my hands find the strength to push your face towards the embodiment of my desires. You resist at first maybe out of coyness, maybe for dramatic effect, maybe because you aren't ready or god forbidding, unwilling. Through all that I think you sense my urgency and foregoing all resistance you let me guide you. Your lips part wide for a long awaited kiss I've never experienced. The head of my cock slides easily against the plump wetness of your lips until half my shaft is engulfed by your warm mouth. Then drawing yourself up you prepare for an even deeper plunge. This upheaval is met by a whimper from me. With my hands guiding you and one of your hands cupping my scrotum, the other sliding against my shaft with your mouth, you take me into you again. Deeper and deeper I pass into your mouth with a deep moan and cataclysmic sensations until I can go no further. Your lips encircling the bottom most part of my rock hard cock and it is too much. The sensations explode within me tearing through every inch of my flesh into you and back again. The explosions are minor compared to those you experienced before but they are strong enough to open a floodgate that I never knew existed. Hot rich fluid pours out of me into your mouth filling it giving you no other option then to swallow once and then again. Somehow I think you expected it and, dare I say, wanted it. You seemed quite pleased to receive me in this way. Yet you nor I are finished yet. After the gate has closed you keep my shaft in your mouth using your hands in ways that will make me sweat just to remember. The one cupping my scrotum gently rubbing and caressing, coaxing the skin to loosen so that the pressure could be relieved. The other hand squeezing and drawing up with your mouth the last of my fluid. You never withdraw me fully from your mouth. In all actuality you draw me deeper into your mouth once again, your tongue spreading the juices along my shaft until once again your lips are at the base of my still erect cock. Then I felt a curious sensation as your throat muscles constricted as you swallowed the remainder of my essence. In my throes I hadn't been able to discern all the nuances of this specific act but now I can truly appreciate its intricacies. I felt a pulling force at the tip of my member as if you were trying to dislodge it from its base and consume it. The sensations is quite extraordinary and I'm sure if it could be safely done without harm, I would let you complete it. What ecstasy to be consumed wholly without trepidation by such a beautiful form. But my flesh demands more. More experience. A union not only of the appetites but also of the whole body. To fill in all the gaps like a tight fitting jigsaw puzzle. The sensational picture of which I can only imagine. My hands thus inspired draw your still working mouth from the non softening member pulsing vigorously anew. I draw you up to me noting the smile playing at the corners of your mouth now that I have regained control of my eyes. On your hands and knees you kneel above me. Your hair dangling to either side of my face as if reaching to envelop me with their silken caresses. My hands explore the length of you stopping only to cup your hanging breasts, pressing their nipples into the center of my palms. You remain still for a few moments letting my hands and eyes experience you in this new position never looking away from my face. I can only imagine the childlike wonder you must see there. The amazement caused by new adventures and sights unseen by those who have only imagined. And then you kiss me. Simply and sweetly. Without malice or deceit. The touch of soft lips to soft lips without responsibility. You hold no standards for me to live up to. You expect nothing more from me in that kiss than me. The generosity displayed in such an altruistic act flips my soul upside down until east becomes west and never becomes now.
I reach my arms around you pulling your body tight against mine our skin not quite slick yet. A condition I yearn to induce shortly. I toss you over onto your back rolling with you so that I lie between your legs and on top of you. You gasp at the sudden position change and then moan closing your eyes for a few seconds as the head of my cock finds the outermost folds of your increasing wetness. I pause in that moment almost fearful that any movement of mine will cause you pain. I wonder if my infiltration into your deepest recesses will make you cry out and shudder in rejection as your muscles tens and try to expel me. Then I know. I want to hurt your body in this way. I long to hear you scream out and tense up and push against the thrust I will perform. I want to know that with my body I can take absolute possession of yours and so I thrust with every fiber of my being hard and fast into you as deeply as I can until we are fully joined. Your eyes shut tight in pain, your head thrashes to the left and right. Your nails entrench themselves in the flesh of my back..... You scream. The sound tears through the air into me and fuels the fire in my blood. I pull back and thrust again feeling the futile resistance of your softest folds as I force myself into you again. Blood trickles from the wounds in my back that the bite of your nails bequeathed. I feel it not, nor do I notice the small amount of blood that seeps from you. The grisly payment of our vicious union. It matters not for in these moments I own your body and my passions owns my soul. I pump hungrily into your body. The ever increasing wetness encouraging me in my endeavors as your muscles slacken to ease the brutal assault I'm inflicting on your flesh. All reason has left me and my mind no longer dissimulates the separate parts of my body. I no longer feel like a man. I am a machine now, or maybe... a beast. My right hand reaches out to take hold of the hair at the nape of your neck and I hold tight keeping your head steady. You reach out, your fingers dig into my bicep and you look into my glazed eyes pleading or submitting or both. Your labored breath pours in and out of your gaping mouth. Your vocal chords resonate offhandedly in moan or soft cries. The tension in your body relaxes with each renewed thrust as you fall deeper into submission. I feel your breath on my face as I press closer inhaling your every exhalation. I knows its in this moment that I have truly possessed you. Your body shudders under mine and I know you have been released from the physical into the sublime. Your eyes glaze, your lips swell, moisten, and part. Your mouth salivates and I feel the wetness between your legs magnified. I easily slide in and out of you at an ever increasing pace. Our bodies slam together audibly and you begin to cry. The tears salty on my tongue as I kiss them from your face in midstream. My own passion overtakes me as your pleasure is realized and I join you in release. I pump torrents into you filling you to a point beyond saturation. Overflowing our fluids spill between us and no longer can we claim individuality.
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