Superficial

Lying there, quiet, waiting. Hair tousled, falling across your eyes.

A few strands fluttering with each delicate exhalation from your nostrils.

Drifting off, the only way to quell your fear.

+

His breath on your cheek, startling you. But his warms hands traveling across your  shoulders provides solace.

Pulled to your feet, shying away.

His fingertips brushing your hips, teasing the curve of your ass.

Caressing.

Digging in slightly, as he stares in your eyes.

+

Anxious, hair in your face. Braced on your hands, taking most of the weight off your  knees.

If you were standing, you would fall.

But there you are.

Because you should.

Because he asked for it.

Because no one has taken you there.

Because you are on your period, string neatly tucked into you, out of sight.

+

His fingers warmed the lubricant, before he slid in between your ass cheeks, before his fingers somehow pushed into your impossibly tight hole.

His cock was much warmer than his fingers or the lube.

Pushing.

Your brain says you are not dreaming.

Stifle the moan, for it strips with pain and all you want to do is give.

+

‘Tell me if I hurt you,’ he says.

But it hurts more to withhold, to deny, to refuse.

You have given your heart to him. That mass of muscle beats in time to his pulse.

What is a band of muscles, peculiar in tonic contraction, gateway to a tunnel that will take you deeper into submission?

Because he wants it.

Because you wish to give it.

Because so much lies beyond this opened door.

Next to last

Shaking, breath rattling in your ears, your chest.

The slick feel of sweat on your neck, as you rip away the rope.

She told you not to do it without her.

But you could not wait.

Ever since she first choked you into submission, you need it.

So you think.

*

Riding you, late one night in your, during the heavy rain.

Suddenly her hands blocked your air, made you dizzy.

When the lightning hit the tree by your window, you thought it emanated from your sac, not the sky.

As your senses steadied, you saw the world with new eyes.

But truly, she blinded you. Took away your sight, replaced it with flickering images.  A mirage of falsity.

But like all things that cheaply shimmer, it caught your imagination.

*

You asked her to do it more often. And then each and every time.

Because it was new, it felt good. Because…because…

Because it got you off in a way you never expected.

She became angry. Chastised you.  Punished you.

So you hid your hunger. Like a petulant child.

*

Moving the small table to the side, you threaded the rope through the hook in the floor.

Taking the lush ivy down, already hard and leaking pre-cum, putting it out of harm’s way of your kicking feet.

Looping the rope around your neck, pausing to lean against the wall, so great was the rush of anticipation.

And finally, sliding the end of the rope through the ceiling hook.

Eyes closed, trembling like a pilgrim in front of a shrine.

Pulling, adjusting, stroking.

Rope, tension, cock.

Until right then.

Yanked it tightly.

Releasing, world exploding into a trillion pieces in your head, silence booming in your ears.

This is cumming, oh yes, this is cosmic.

But panic sets in.

You are losing consciousness, as your fingers struggle, lose purchase.

Somehow, you manage to stand a bit straighter, get 3 fingers under rope.

Air, blessed sweet air, pours in.

In the same manner the semen poured out.

*

Sinking to the floor, you began to cry.

Scared, relieved, ashamed, excited.

How much breath do you think you can stand to lose?

Console

Such an endless day. Like all of late.

The sun rises, hangs in the sky and sets. But it seems that I am facing a blank clock with no numerals, no arms but steadily clicking off the seconds.

I hear it but my eyes are blinded to the variations that truly mark the knots of time.

Like the cicadas  that I hear as I leave, as I return.

Here in the perpetual dusk, broken only by the yellow glow of lamps, give me sanctuary.

*

Open your mouth.

Take it away.

Take away the phones, reports, email, chatter, beeps, chirps, reams of paper that dog me.the voices, the shapes, the smells of people who inhabit my space yet really are only cogs in the eternal machine.

Enclose me, take me to the root.

Let me stand, leaning in the doorway, as your lips take my head away from the running numbers and into dead space. Let the hairs of my bush brush against your nose, as I feel my dickhead slip into the constriction of your sweet throat. Let my fingers rest in your silky hair, as you grip my weary thighs, sucking steadily and then fiercely.

Let me flinch from the gentle graze of your teeth.

Do I taste as silky to you, as your mouth feels to me? Does the slight musk of sweat clinging to my tightening sac inspire you to hum so gently as you suck me faster?

Look up at me, take me into the velvet darkness of your eyes.

Your tongue swirls, as you draw me deeper and deeper.

Until I fall into a momentary oblivion, gliding on a series of spurts that push the breath out of my chest.

*

Take me away from everything that is not you; your mouth, your lips, your hands, your skin.

Until I drop my head onto the pillow, only to rise and go back to the ticking, faceless clock. Marking off the path of the sun, in a rhythm that I cannot master.