Wait. I ask you to wait.
You never do.
All that matters is what you want.
And me giving it to you.
As you went deeper and deeper into me, your nails dug into my soft fleshy hips. Holding so tightly, you shuddered and came, breaking my skin.
~
Your fingers gliding up and down my thighs, as you press your lips against your nail impressions.
Lying there, looking at the ceiling. You bathe my tiny wounds with your tongue and murmur your sorrow at hurting me.
But I know you like it.
You like it.
Tired, anxious to get home. Stopped at the store, anyway.
Running my hands along the tops the neatly folded stacks of crisp denim, I grabbed a few pairs. I ignored the chipper, chattering sales clerk and headed for the dressing room. My size is always in stock; slim. Lightening-fast metabolism attributes to persistent ability to wear my jeans a few inches above the promised dick land.
Dropping my bag off my shoulder onto the supposedly soothing marbled clue carpet, I heard a chirp of a text on a phone and a resulting chuckle. Someone is amused.
Great for them.
Kick off shoes. Easily, I was out of my pair and into the new ones. Freeballing has its benefits.
Need to see full body view, so I slipped out my glossy rectangle into the center area, to the three-way mirror.
I looked good. These sit just a bit lower across the hips. Yeah.
Then I saw him. Standing in the room opposite me, watching from the door.
I watched back.
Steadily, he held my gaze. Sleepy grey eyes, dark hair curling at the collar, lips just a bit thin. Angular face, clean-shaven. tanned. Looked like real island trip version, not safety sun from a can. A bit taller than average height.
He smiled, ever so briefly. His parents sprang for the ortho work back in high school, obviously.
Then he unbuttoned his jeans. Slides them down his hips, lets them fall. Steps out of them.
No underwear. Not worried that someone besides me will see him, either.
Nice size package, low hangers. Natural untrimmed pubes.
Smoothly, he shook out his new pair, bent a bit and stepped into them. His gaze never left mine.
Shifting his cock to be comfortable, he zipped up, smoothed his hands down his thighs halfway. Just a slight edging up of his lips, on the right side.
He walked forward, stood next to me. I slowly let my eyes trail from his face to his shoulders, down his smooth chest and along his defined lean abs. He had that line of dark hair from his belly button to his bush that I love so well.
I paused at his cock, looked up into his eyes.
Desire hit me. Felt it in my gut, caused my balls to tighten and my cock to grow.
Moving away, I stepped into my rectangle. He came right after, as if we were tied together already.
Backed against the inadequate mirror, balanced with one foot on my bag, I braced on hand on his right shoulder, the other at his waist.
I opened my mouth to his and the world bloomed.
I.
It is windy and wet. The temperature is falling. I went and stood in the middle of the street.
No one drove by, the birds are tucked away for the night. Even the ghosts have crept back to their crypts.
My hair, a sodden tangle, hangs around me, wishing to be fastened into a noose.
For my neck only.
Such a personal thing that should not ever be transferred, unlike a candle flame.
II.
I nod and tell others I am well. My laughter cuts my mouth as I expel it, sharp slivers of gaiety that have no meaning.
No truth.
I look for that elusive truth. In the deep soulful eyes of that one, in the strong supple hands of the other one- his black painted fingernails gleaming like a beetle’s carapace. It is not in the puffed lips of him or in the riotous long hair of him either.
Nor is it find with the tender yearning of this one, the harsh promises of that one. Not even the turgid cock of the favored one, dripping cum like a faucet in the barn, holds it.
III.
Offers of flesh, fidelity, debauchery, submission, cruelty, gentleness, lust, desire. All the same: Nothing.
Syllables that can be arranged in any and all ways but equal a simple word: non.
IV.
To touch someone, is to caress warmth frozen by my breath and reduced to stone and watch it crumble with each stroke of my fingers. Wind and time converge and condense, wearing them all away in the twinkling of an eye. They receive the rapture at my cold hands. Could we have known?
V.
I am trapped, struggling to break through this looking glass that has been ground for me. My mouth belches out words in water-that same water falling from the skies that I stood in. My eyes are fixed upon the moving forms that cannot see me. Nor do they wish to do so, for who among them is strong enough to gaze into nothing?
VI.
My heart is ashes, pumping dust through the thin plaster shell of my body. My eyes leak trails of sand, such tiny grains of silica, down my carefully composed cheeks.
I wait for the wind, that pushes the rain, which will one day disassemble me and blow me back to you.
No matter what I may think or feel, my mission is complete.
Through blood, sweat, tears, pain, anguish… I saved you.
I bear subtle scars and the twinges of anger that came from beating back the horde.
It was all worth it.
You are free.
Fly…
~~~~~~~~~~
Procedamus in pace
In nomine Christi, Amen
Deeper. Harder.Faster. Rougher.
your teeth, on my neck, digging into my flesh.
More.
your hands, in my hair, pulling me, anywhere you wish to lead.
More.
your cock, violating my uncharted territories.
More.
your words, penetrating my mind, laying me bare.
More.
The suffix will do, to amplify what I need from you.
More.
Defiler, destroyer, reaver, reaper, owner.
your love, carving my soul.
Does it matter that I will give, will bleed, will wait, will cry, will ache?
I do those things.
Daily.
When I sleep, I leave my bed, my body and speed to you.
I stand there, waiting. Sometimes you notice me, reach for me.
Tender kisses, gentle caresses, imminent penetration of my soul.
Others, you do not.
There are nights when I fight demons, fiends, and drooling ferocious things. I know they are after you, so I bravely defeat things that gibber, that scare me to the depths of my mind.
Do you see me, standing there; bloody in my white gown, like the Lamb who has been slain yet is raised eternal?
There are nights when you wrap around me like a snake. Crushing me, hurting me with you need for me. I wake up, heart in my throat, and I see your lissome form fade in the dark, darker than the night.
I turn to the phone on those nights. Without fail, you call, saying that you were thinking of me. Or that I was thinking of you. It is 1:30, 2:42. 3:01, 4:22 in the morning.
Some nights, I am so afraid of that I have fought, wicked things I have seen, that I cannot get back to sleep, until the dawn.
That is when I most wish to be next to you, for I am never afraid, never disturbed, as I am sleeping in your bed. I sleep the rest of the holy and virtuous dead.
You protect me so thoroughly, so toughly, that we could be sleeping on stone in the cold, and I would be warm.
But it is not the night terrors that plague me, for those phantasms fade with the sun, with a walk around the room, with a glass of water.
It is the sinuous forms that slink unnoticed through daylight, that hide their true faces, which concern me.
They stalk you, easily sweetly. I scream at you to watch out.
But I am not sure you hear me.
Hear me.
You were waiting for me, as I opened the door.
Gently, you rubbed my face. You asked if I loved you.
In the blurry illumination eeking from the lamp, I could only see one side of your face, the rest in shadow But I flinched from the pain I saw there, spilling into the light.
My entire body screams at you all the day, “only you I love.” In that moment, you did not want to cipher or guess.
My mouth opens, the words tumble out.
Soon, more words pierced my ears and I started to cry.
You asked me not to, for that means you feel something that you do not need to right now.
You promised to not hurt me, not not lay me open, as you will others.
There, in the thick darkness, I licked the palms of defeat and loss and recoiled from the sour bitter taste.
If you are not you-not precious, good, receptive-then I have lost the ground I have gained.
You kissed me. You soul whisked across my lips, tickled my nose.
I buried my fingers into you hair, attempting to feel the texture of your heart, so that i can find my way to it, no matter how black the night gets, how blind I may become.
Give me pain. Burn away the loneliness I carry when you are gone.
Give me joy. Crush my terror of losing you.
Give me your spit, your sweat, your groans, your sighs and weeping, your doubt.
Give me your time. Bits, drips, nibbles, gushing chunks.
Give me tears-hurt me, so that I can let the water drain from my soul, onto my cheeks.
givemeyourcumafteryoufillmyass. givemeascorchedcuntfromhefrictionofyourcockbatteringme. givemecrampsinmyneck,givemeasorethroatfromgaggingonyourcock.
Give me the serenity that comes from being emptied by you of all that I don’t need.
give
me
your
love.
I can’t see you. The lights are bright but my heart is heavy. My eyes are clouded with tears.
I fear that you are slipping out of my grasp, like water evaporates in an open jar.
My tools are my body.
I use them, to gain more time, more strength, to save you.
You called me, angry.
Someone needed to bear your rage; I was closest to you in both space and time.
I was quiet, my lips burning, as you words scraped across my face.
Away you went.
I stared at the wall, seing nothingness.
Each second before you called was a deeper slide into the abysss.
Areyougone?Whathashappened?DidIdosomethingwaitwaitWAITWAIT!!!
You called back, to say you were sorry.
Urgently, you apologized and repeated your dismay at your reaction. I forgive you.
You have not yet discovered I am not strong enough to bear your rage. I do not know how to take it.
As I go to my bed tonight, I am accompanied by the fear that I will show you such a thing.
You won’t understand it at all.
I cannot cross the boundary erected between us. Constructed by you, fortified by my ego.
Subtle, not seen, until I am almost, just almost…I lift my leg to step over them.
Back. I am slammed, to that space where all we do is stare.
Your body, tensed, cries out for me to touch you, for that would cause the edifice to fall, the towers to be laid open, ruined and starkly bare.
You open your mouth. Smoke seeps out. It folds around my ears but nothing is clear.
Will you be able to speak when I caress the long sinuous throat that contains the words I need to hear, trapped like all the tiny sparrows? I see their wings beating, pulsing, against the fragile skin of your neck.
Before, in the dark, I have traced the path from your heart to your lips. Your breath gently escaped your mouth, causing frost to form on my lashes, in the fine hairs above my lips.
Somehow, it has wound into my chest, for I am still partially frozen, afraid to be in either a solid or liquid state.
I stand, I walk, I crawl. Towards that barely perceptible barrier.
Holding tightly to the image of your throat, the pathway from your lips to heart, in my head.
Open your mouth and cause the world to rotate for another day.
Your words burn my ear.
“Do you need me?” said so softly.
With joy, I nod, as the burning hole in my soul expands.
While you slept, I slipped my hands under the sheets and manipulated my clit, to the sound of our breath.
To watch the sun rise and gently illuminate your face, was the sex show to end them all, the porn I need indelibly burned upon my mind.
Later, in your bed, I used my massage wand on myself, until I could hear the juices spout and gurgle.
Burying my face into your pillow, I released tears from my eyes and mouth, as I trembled and shook.
Sinking down flat, lying on my stomach legs spread, I soak the sheets under me, with the tears from my cunt.
With every time,
with very action,
away from you,
I slide.
