Waves

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Oh fucking romanticism.
1.5k words
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I am on vacations in this typical resort in Mexico. I get out to the balcony and the night shakes me like a child who watches the mystery of his first porn. She The Night is swarming with clichés, the silhouetted line of palm trees, the caressing breeze, a spectral white on the deserted beach, the deepest blue of the ocean, and from it the panting breath of the waves that keep coming. Overall that known but incredibly stunning sky seeded with stars, constellations, the fucking galaxy staring at you across thousands of light years. But no matter how trite She may show herself with her firmament and such, she fucking gets me. She asks me a question that I cannot discern but nevertheless I look back at her and keep searching for an answer.

I let myself collapse back on a chair and breathe. I breathe to the stride of the waves and a soothing calm soaks me from my stomach up to my head. I get that serenity, the one that allows me to do the most terrible things to her, my slave. The most unthinkable things done to her because that is the way I should use her, like a second nature. I then call her and tell her to put a towel on the floor in front of the chair and get there on her knees. No more explanations needed. I unbutton the shorts and slide them and the briefs down and she immediately starts sucking avidly. In fact too avidly, my cock hardens all the way without transitions, like a spring that she had triggered with her lips and her also avid tongue below. In a hushed but admonishing voice I told her to slow down, much slower. She shudders for an instant as if I was already going to punish her, and carries out my instructions with all the exactness that she can present. That is so beautiful, she glows on her obedience, surrendered and so trained without even the need to materialize the punishment.

I may still punish her frequently, just because I enjoy it, just because her soul needs some lovely reminders, just because I will always keep perfecting her and taking her further, but she already doesn't need any of that to always follow my orders. And I don't wish anything extra this night. Along with sex I may normally submerge her on an overwhelming universe of pain and pleasure, or at least grab and pinch her nipples while she sucks, perhaps to the point of making her cry in pain, or in more than pain; such an lovely stance while she pleasures my cock. But this night I wish to reach an extended simplicity, I just want her to suck and suck my cock into oblivion. I let her move slowly and tightly up and down all so well by herself, rubbing and kissing every bit and every capillary of my cock. I keep a hand in the back of her head, not to push her but to let her feel she is there on my terms. It is much more than sex what she has in her mouth, it is her submission, her humiliation forcing her throat; it is the taste of my cock dousing a head that belongs to me.

I feel She The Night observing us, and I wonder which are her starry thoughts. Perhaps she is thinking in the stereotype of male dominance using and abusing a woman; but the corseted stereotype can literally suck my cock. Perhaps She is jealous. Perhaps She would like to join us in a threesome, but She is too cold and distant, too dignified, to ever do something like that. Oh, how many delicacies She would enjoy if She would willingly came down crawling from that dignity. But She knows that, She may know everything, but still She cannot do anything. She cannot move, only stay there ready to be raped, bound to the space with her white legs spread across the sky and her wet oceanic pussy teasing the earth. I may rape you She The Night. I may do and make in the world. I would rape you and love you; even I know you are never going to be mine. I will be yours some day, and you will eat me with your worms, but until then will I thrust you with all my lively passion.

I now look down at my lovely slave. She keeps on her endeavor with complete dedication. I am sucked into such pleasure. I wonder if she feels any of my thoughts, if she can taste the light of the stars thru my cock. I guess she doesn't. She appears lost in another world. I guess she is submerged down in the earth, her only taste being my prosaic precum and her own gag as she keeps pushing herself further. I guess she thinks on me, on giving me all she has. By now I can much read her, and she also knows me. I so much enjoy that connection, and take good pleasure on that mixture of flesh, heaven and hell where I take her. She may not know my exact thoughts but I can feel how she swallows all the sensations that come from my savage hands.

Look at her, now she is making those slurping noises that I love. I keep observing her, pleased of being so well pleased. She is just dressed with a sheer negligee and a g-string holding up a small plug in her ass. I put that in there hours ago, and now I perversely rejoice on keeping her a little fucked. I know that her pussy usually gets quite wet while sucking my cock, and I can almost smell that drenched spot on her panties. On another time I may check it and tease it, just to make it more desperate, but at this time I just want her to stay there, on her place. I love that perverse outlook, knowing that her pussy is so needed and anxious and still willfully neglected while she keeps pleasing me. And she well knows my depravity; in fact I think that makes her even wetter; and the cycle of twisted excitement traverse us both further. I then told her to look at me, and she moves her eyes up with difficulty while she keeps moving up and down. She asks me with her eyes and that deliciously helpless expression. I told her that she is doing so well, that she is my obedient whore, my little girl, mine and properly used. I then give this stare back at her, a stare that tells her that I will take care of her, in all the good and dreaded extension of its meanings.

I look back at the sea and think about all those waters interconnected. I have been up and down the Pacific coast, the Caribbean, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean from Morocco to Greece; all of them soaked in the same soup, the same salty fluids that now start involuntary dripping down her mouth. I wonder if some ancient Greek was thinking something similar while looking at the Aegean. Sure they were. Nevertheless they were the most prolific, sexually and of course on everything else. They already created everything. I guess one of them even wrote a manuscript about looking at the night and the sea while getting a blowjob. One that was stored in a corner with some luscious others in the Alexandria's library; and with the library then finally burned into oblivion as it happens with everything else that matters in the world.

I put my hands on the sides of her head, burying my fingers on the hair behind her nape, and then push her utterly down, holding her there. Look at me. Her eyes start deliciously crying while I can feel her throat and mouth badly gagging and gulping with such anguish. Still she stays there, without even trying to force an escape, the pungent memory of a vicious cane or an unrelenting pinch reminding her of never contradicting my commands. She is now drooling and crying awfully. What a delightful mess in my hands. She is crying for the lost of the Alexandria's library without knowing it. I tell her that I am so proud of my girl and that she should be also very proud of herself. It may be the crying, but I see a nice spark on her eyes. I let her move and continue sucking with as much devotion as ever. My cock fucking throbs and pulls from my innards. Dear physicists, I think I have just bended the space-time. A black hole has appeared in this balcony without even the need of a particles' accelerator. And it is sucking me down. All thinking goes away; just here and now, here and now. My hand fondly touches her face. I don't want to cum. Just to live here.

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2 Comments
estragonestragonabout 13 years ago
Good writing, good concept

but I wish I knew more about the characters.

traci_eliottraci_eliotabout 13 years ago
Hot and well-written

A nice story, thank you. If I have any complaint, it is that you didn't give yourself enough time to properly develop your characters; what you did write was very good. 4 *s.

traci

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