Deliquesce

"Things forbidden have a secret charm." -Tacitus

You stand in back of me, your breath a zephyry wind, gently blowing on the back of my neck. Chills of anticipation.

I can feel the warmth of your body through the clothes rubbing against my skin. Your hands, free to wander, grab a handful of ass, squeezing affectionately. Then, you slide your fingers along the crack and between my legs in an overt sexual manner. I lean against you wanting to feel the solidity of your form, its mass, its strength.

Your hands reach under my arms to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples. I push my rear even further against you in a slow, grinding motion-an effort to feel your growing hardness. The increasing pressure of your fingertips on my nipples causes them to ripen into swollen cherries.

My senses are on fire. Responding to your every touch. I want to turn to face you and search your eyes but for now you are an anonymous lover, my stranger of lust.

In front of me there is a table. You push me forward with only my hands for support against the wooden top. Bent over, my ass is distended in a provocative pose. You lift my skirt to delight in the full spheres, removing the belt from your pants and a blindfold from your pocket. You cover my eyes to heighten sensation, running the leather across my buttocks, massaging my skin with its texture. Taunting me with your power.

You punish my rear, flicking the belt with a savage fury. Tears form in the corners of my eyes as I try to remain still to your attack. You wipe them away tenderly, the magnetic push and pull of pain and pleasure.

Aroused by the scarlet marks, you ask me to kneel facing you. I obey without hesitation. You guide my hands along your body until I find a well-defined bulge. You set free your growing member and I stroke it with my hands, lips, tongue until my mouth is completely filled.

Forcing me backwards, you straddle my body tearing away at my blouse and bra with one, swift motion. Your cock again finds my mouth as I try to accommodate its tumulscent size.

You withdraw your weapon, dragging it across my face, down my throat, pressing my breasts together to create a soft tunnel, a hollow for your engorged prick. You slide your shaft with increasing ferocity and friction.

Juices flow between my legs, I long to feel you inside me, pounding me. You lay me on the floor, surrounded by pillows and part my legs, prying my knees up and apart. You let your cock penetrate just the opening, teasing me with your hardness and asking me to beg for it. I am so hungry for you that I cannot help but cry out.

With each vital, animal thrust, I recite your name. I am yours in body and mind, a possession, a plaything, a person, a perversion. You are my protector, my passion, my purpose. You make me feel whole. You make me feel alive. You make feel wanted. You make me feel.

I adore the brilliant mind, the dark and light , a master of the primary and provocative, a priapic, palmary presence. I try to imagine details. What do your hands look like, the length of your fingers or lines of your palm, the penetration of your yes, the taste of your tongue, the scent of your clothes...