Note To A Lover

Would it make a difference?

If I told you, plain and simple, that I just wanted to fuck you?

That I wanted to fuck you so hard and so fierce in every possible way, to claw and bite and suck your flesh and fill every hole you have.

To bend you to breaking, to fill you till it hurts and to tell you how magnificent an animal you look as I watch your limbs stretch, your body squirm and your sweat bead as you fuck me just as hard right back.

That I’d relish every gasp and cry you make as I watch and feel you cum. As I tell you how I’d tear the skin off you and swallow you whole if I could.

Till there’s not a single part of you that isn’t bruised, or scratched, or bitten by the time we’re done, So that your bones and skin ache with the memory of it for days after.

So every time you move its like I’m still fucking you, still inside you. Every step or gesture you make bringing a reminder of the pleasure and pain.

And the next time…

How I would bathe your wounds. Kiss and caress each and every inch of your skin so gently, so reverently, as I tell you how beautiful you are.

Tell you what a sweet and loving goddess you are to me. How I worship you, give my all to you.

Taking my time to find every place that makes you sigh, gasp, or shudder with delight with my lips, tongue and fingertips.

Till the softness and the warmth of it makes you feel like your melting, becoming liquid, and your overwhelmed and weeping with the joy and lovingness and safety of it.

Surrendering to the gentle but wild energy between us, letting it wash over and through you. Until there are no words that can express it and no body’s to contain it anymore. No you, no me, no separation.

If I told you that I’d be both Devil and Angel to you and anything in-between.

Would it make a difference?