A Love Letter

I want to take it up my fucking ass. I want your hand at the back of my neck, pushing my delicate face cruelly into the mattress.

You can slowly press the head of your cock against the tight little ring that clenches and resists you even when I do not. It can't help squeezing itself tightly against you.

But go ahead and push it in. Make me uncomfortable, let me squirm as you impale me with cock that pins me by my ass and keeps me from getting away.

Skewer me so it hurts; I want to cry for you. I have nothing to give you but my body and my tears and they are all yours. Don't tell me this is not romantic. This is just like Shakespeare:

"I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well."

I want you to give me a little jab so it hurts the way I hate for it to. Make me squeal like a filthy little fuckpig doing nasty things on all fours. Make it so I don't feel like I'm on a plush mattress, but like I'm wallowing in mud.

Smear the tears on my face, make me eat them as you fingerfuck my mouth while jerking into my ass. Just don't tell me this is not romantic. Don't tell me Shakespeare didn't write about this:

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs, Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes, Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears."

I know it's twisted, the way I love my face squished against the bed, the way it gets me off to know you've chosen to hold me down and shove your cock up my ass, leaving my bare cunt lonely and clenching on nothing and drooling a string of lust onto the bed sheets.

How fucked up is it that I'd like you to yank me by the hair afterwards and push my porcelain face into that puddle, smearing it on me, making me lick it up. It's sick. It's fucked up. It's like Shakespeare said:

"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew."

I love cum up my ass. I love to look over my shoulder and know you're blowing a load where you should not, where nature has no purpose for it.

That's why I'd love for you to stuff me with the big plug afterwards, not the one I can squeeze out, but the bigger one. The one I find it hard to take. I want you to not only cum up my ass, I want you to make sure it can't leak out. I want it to stay there.

I want to be sealed up and know that you fucked my ass, you spewed cum up my ass, and that you're not letting it out. I'd be so embarrassed.

You shame me so completely and you even make me hate you sometimes. Hate you so much. Love you and hate you, and I think that's romantic as hell. Shakespeare agrees:

"Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares."

Would you like to push your cock up my ass so we could play games with my dildos? You could lay me on my back, hold me by my leash as you recline and look down at me. You would have an exquisite view of my ass stretched around your cock.

Maybe we could start small, trying to work a little rubber cock into my cunt. You could see my face, watch my hands, see the way your cock in my ass shrinks my cunt, steals the space.

Your cock and the dildo would be vying for my body and you'd get squeezed so hotly. You'd see my shame, my horror as I struggled to get that rubber cock into a space you've made too small.

I want a vibrator in my cunt so my ass hums on you. I want to be a human sex toy, making you shudder and spray cum up my tight ass. You could turn my toy on and my ass would quiver and hum on you so good you wouldn't even need to move before you filled me up with sticky cum. Don't anyone tell me this isn't romantic.

"Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong."

And it is wrong. It is so wrong.

I wanna take it

up

my

fucking

ass

for

you.

Just like Shakespeare said:

"My heart is at your service."