Parsus

When you have been denied, you cannot rest.

Your dreams do not offer succor, only a harsh reminder of unmet need.

Waking from them into the grimness of the pre-dawn.

Mouth empty.

Heart empty.

Folding around the rumpled pillow, sigh of despair creeping out of your nostrils.

Falling back into troubled sleep.

Burdened with waiting during the day. After day.

Yet one night, you turn, tangled in your sheets.

To find her, see her.

There.

Half in the darkness, half-illuminated by the street lamps shining through your window.

Unbuttoning her blouse.

Beckoning your lips to clamp around her dropping swollen nipple.

Arms wrapped around her, cradled against her, you suckle and drink.

Your cock: harder than you think it could be.

Her sweet milk, filling your mouth, warming your throat.

Eagerly, you go from breast to breast. Afraid to stop, afraid she will be gone with the dawn.

Even you can be filled, can be satiated.

To slide into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Finally.

Pant

Wearing a groove in the floor.

Pacing, to and fro. The oak boards softly creaking under your bare feet.

Waiting.

On her. On him.

On yourself–for you seek liberation.

*

Settling on your knees, watching.

Eyes full of her. Of him.

Ears burning at the stream of consciousness pouring from her chapped and slightly bruised lips.

Smelling the tang of their mingled sweat, being pressed into your sheets.

Yet you are silent, except for your breath. So heavy it has a weight of its own.

*

Your moment arrives.

They call to you indirectly, as he bucks and jerks in her, his ass flexing with each spurt as he screws his eyes shut with relief.

She is the receptacle.

She receives.

She…

*

Offering to you. You approach the tabernacle of her well-fucked cunt.

Pausing there, all your anger dissipates. Your frustration at waiting.

Your stubborn refusal to see her guiding you by denying your instantly.

Eager, grateful, humble–you place your hands on her thighs, muscles tired from gripping his waist.

*

Lick.

Lick.

The saltiness.

Taste.

Taste.

Her juices.

Savor.

Savor.

Your place. Less than a tissue to be discarded.

*

After lapping away every bit of them -his nut, her pussy juices-you feel your breath.

Your breath. Lighter, barely discernible. Floating, like your heart in your breast.

Drop your forehead, rest your cheek against the velvet of her smooth thigh.

In the quiet, a still life of her, him, you.

Dream.

Dream.

Of the next time she lets you worship.

Ask

He called to me.

He knelt before me.

His tears wet my bare cold feet.

Stumbling on the words, he asked me to hurt him.

To love him.

I gave him silence. A long exhalation of moist breath.

He told me that he needs to be gently choked.

To be slapped, spit on.

To be overpowered.

His shame is great but his desire, greater.

To hear names of filth whispered in his ears.

Each word making him whole.

Every syllable washing away his false persona, his outer shell imposed by society.

I closed my eyes. Presented him with the curve of my lashes, my still lips.

His fingers wrapped around my ankles.

The outline of his spine under his smooth pale skin.

He begged me to to take him, penetrate him.

Take away the world, obliterate his boundaries.

Please. He said.

I replied with a lack of motion. Rooted in place.

I waited, like the statues in a hushed an dark church, until he pulled away.

His lean and spare form, fading from my downcast view.

He wants.  He aches. He dreams.

I am not an idol.

I do not want worship.

I sent his prayers into the skies, gossamer ribbons floating.

To be caught and answered by another.

Regressed {stage 1}

Barely awake, still holding on to my dream, I feel your hands, tugging, pulling at me.

You are hungry, aching for nourishment.

Undoing my buttons, you push he material of my nightgown aside, until the soft, full flesh is revealed.

My nipple-erect, ready-glistens with a bead of milk, in the barely seen light coming into the room.

With a pang that reaches from your mind into your soul, you latch on.
Sucking, drawing form me, you settle into the peace that you only have found in your most quiet fantasies.

Until I chose to bring you from there to reality.

Regressed{ in stages}

Stage one:

Shaking, you look up at me. Flushed, sweating.

Your eyes, heart and soul form one word, which breaks the barrier of your lips.

Mama.

Like your dreams solidified, the haze burning off dawn, I caress you face and offer you comfort.

My tits-heavy, full,engorged-leak precious pearls of milk.

Erection throbbing, you scramble to catch every prismatic drop.

Mouth open, you strain to catch every bit that drips.

Past speech, past coherence, you latch your mouth upon the right, cradling the weight of the left in your hand.

You were denied, so your mouth floods. Eyes rolling back in your head, you brain pops.  just like your tight nutsac, which erupts hot ropes upon my boots.

Pulling, suckling, murmuring. Lost in the rhythm of your lips and tongue, coaxing forth your sustenance.

Your mouth is full but I hear your unspoken adoration.

I am the Mother you seek, The Goddess that hardens your cock, the Logos of your prayers.

In your belly, milk splashes.

In your soul, truth is revealed.