Pilgrimage to Elysium

Fucking is power.
Fucking is vitality
in its most primal sense;
it’s an explosion of energy,
hips thrusting and colliding.
A primitive need for life,
yet also an approach to death.
You can feel your blood
rushing and heating.
Your breath is shorter, yet crisp —
a cleansing of mind and body.

The pleasure varies in intensity:
heavily in your center, your asshole,
the part of your chest that brushes hot skin,
along your armpits,
the soles of your feet,
the base of your skull,
and along your fingers and arms.

Your mouth! God!
Your mouth is on fire.
Your tongue throbs in the same place you enjoy dessert.
Your scalp ripples — waves of heat.

Your muscles clench powerfully
over the intrusive part inside you,
heightening your arousal
and sending waves of hot pleasure up your glistening back.
The deepest muscles squeeze harshly over and over again —
the hottest friction radiating all the way up your spine and ass.

Your clit feels like an actual button,
stuttering your nervous system on and off.
Pulses rush into a space in the center of your groin,
coming from your ass, vagina, and clit —
also from the pressure high on your pelvis,
forcing an orgasm on all fronts.

Your hips are wild,
heedless of anything except reacting.
Your ass tenses in anticipation.
You feel sharp fingernails
over your shoulders,
then strike back.
The thrusting gets faster.

Muscles start to twitch traitorously as they tire,
and blood redirects to other places.
In fact, you’re as taut as a bow —
escalating, going higher, tighter,
then bucking wildly
as your brain is wiped clean.
Your heart stutters,
threatening to give up.

It’s a hiatus on function
for the most productive parts of you —
starved for air —
while your most intimate parts are worshiped;
your heart is finally fed with blood
as climax electrocutes your entire system -
voltage thrumming throughout your body.
Your heart and pulse points are pounding.
You start to feel muscles you hadn’t previously noticed unclench.

Your shoulders and legs feel the cool cotton of your bed as they relax.
Your breath is heavy.
Your walls are still squeezing erratically.
Your head swims.
You relax your hold on your lover;
your claws retract from their flesh.
Then, the sigh —
that heavy sigh that echoes your satisfaction.
You feel a little liquid flow;
it feels amazing,
just gliding through pleasure.
One touch, then another brush,
then all over.
It’s the intoxication of every system in your body,
for just a moment,
Yearning to stay suspended as long as possible.
It would be torture to slip back into reality.

The explosion starts inside your body
and ends in another realm,
jarring your heart and soul.

The tide ebbs and flows,
a leisurely float on the surface.
The aftershocks tickle of water —
a gentle slosh.
You’re taken in the movement.

Your asshole twitches,
demanding your attention,
But just then, hot, slippery kisses
paint your neck.
Your torso is compressed
as your lover grips you.
While you bask in Elysium,
your lover drags you back up.

Although unwilling to get sober,
you wonder what the next feeling will be,
so you attempt to focus again,
then jolt when you feel a pinch on your nipple suddenly,
making you giggle.

There’s another gush around the almost-still cock inside you.
It causes more waves of contractions.
Your head fogs up again.
Teeth nip at your jaw,
and you’re squeezed even harder.

Want blossoms afresh,
and it feels like your clit is huge.
A bite on your throat,
followed by a thrust into you.
You cry out.
You’re close to blacking out,
but you’re wet and want it again.

Your fingers claw at a round ass,
feeling it tighten and relax.
You get louder.
Your throat’s starting to get a little dry.
It feels so good, though.
Your nerves are alive —
all of them.

The sweat is somehow highly arousing
because neither of you care.
It’s not a priority,
but you surely are.

That thought spikes your arousal,
then your heart pounds.
Your legs pull at your lover,
and they know it’s time to make you come.

Your ass receives even more pleasure
as they pound into you.
You feel like you’re under a wave and need air,
gasping in a desperate lungful.

If the previous orgasm was an electric blast,
this is a tsunami in slow motion.
Your body rolls in its depths,
unbalancing you with no direction,
undulating in pleasure as you come.

You’ve never felt more taken —
more satisfied.

Maybe it’s not a suspension of life,
but more like a vacation --
going somewhere,
then traveling back.
It’s a damn good trip —
a godlike journey.

Their body relaxes against you.
Kisses pepper your jaw and ear.
Their head butts against your temple.
A heavy kiss pushes against your forehead,
making you giggle and push their head away.
You look in their eyes;
they are overjoyed.
It’s unmistakable.
It’s like a rainbow,
or Christmas,
or winning the lottery.

Your heart and brain mostly throb now.
You know every single line on their face
and every twitch of their mouth.
You can always read sadness, joy, and lust.
You always know when they’re about to pull a prank on you.
The emotional current rushes in a tunnel
through the surfaces of your not-yet-touching faces.
The perfect chaser to fucking:
an intense massage of the soul that feels like a feather in air,
then dipping into cool waters,
flowing through the space as controlled by the currents;
the astral salvation of the small death.
You left your body,
but you’d work together to get your soul back,
guided back gently into the mortal realm.

A kiss.

Breath evens out but is still so loud;
Arousal makes the lungs freeze,
then release a desperate breath.

More liquids flood your center.
You don’t mind drowning.
It’s calm and peaceful at the bottom of the Underworld.
Heat floods your face and chest as your lover summons you relentlessly.

Sounds all around go from unheard
to barely-there
to faint-but-undeniable.
Then you start to take stock of your limbs again.

You suffer one huge aftershock,
Making you buck.

Despite you trying to catch your breath,
Your lover steals your air in a kiss,
pressing just enough and brushing.

You get even wetter.
Your arms wrap around their neck,
kissing them back, grateful.
There’s a pressure in your groin.
They roll off of you gently,
then, between your open legs,
liquid squirts out of you.
There’s a little embarrassment,
but that somehow makes it hotter.
You lover lays a palm on your pelvis, gripping.
They use two forefingers,
pressing down at the bottom of your entrance,
then circle all the way up to your front walls.
The fingers leave you,
A middle finger and ring finger grip you.
Arousal flushes you.
Your lover tightens their grip on you, and starts to move.
Back and forth.
Squeezing, then relaxing slightly.
Your heart starts to pound,
like a fucking tribal drum,
increasing in tempo.
As soon as you start to lose control of your lower body,
Your lover vibrates their fingers against your g-spot,
and the pressure builds to ejaculate everywhere —
your walls contracting at the same time.
It’s overwhelming.
You pull at your lover’s jaw,
then kiss them drunkenly.
Their kiss softens, and they slow their hands to a crawl over your sex.

There’s a thumping in your groin,
throbbing in an unsteady tattoo,
like a gong being struck relentlessly
and reverberating.

It feels like warm liquids gush out of you as you give in --
give yourself over to the sounds,
to the pleasure,
to the colors swirling behind your eyelids.

You lie there as your soul returns to your body, beckoned by soft caresses and kisses.
Your soul feels like it’s being poured back into your body.

You feel a warm palm under your breast to stop you from floating away.

The fresh oxygen burns your nostrils with its purity.

You lie on your back,
caressing the sheets as tingles spark along your limbs.

Your lover looms over you again, smiling.

Your hands grip the back of their neck as you pull them down.
Soft lips cradle yours and graze oh-so-softly.

Your lover and you are done.
Caresses lead to sleep.
Maybe a soft expression here and there.
Limbs wrap together;
you’re using each other to get comfortable.

The veil of sleep pushes down on you,
beckoning with silk hands.
Sleep drags you into the mattress.
You happily give in,
sated and buzzing.

Fucking turns to tender love --
a primal need that is addressed carefully.
Firm thrusts contrast with soft kisses;
your lover plays with you as needed --
hard or soft,
desperate or deliberate.
That night is a mix of everything,
Now you are drowning in satisfaction.
Your sight goes black.

Whatever the tumultuous swells and wanes of the night,
You and your lover made it out alive.
The near-death of orgasm was just that:
a dance with death,
ratcheting up your pulse instead of stopping it.

Colliding, meshing, and forgetting about everything —
forgetting everything except your two bodies.
Every night is a trip —
a campaign from Olympus to the Underworld
in a matter of hours,
snatching your soul back,
unscathed.