This happens to you often doesn’t it? You’re going about your busy day and all of a sudden your skin clamors for your fingers to trace a spot that reminds you of me. Spots that I have feasted on, spots I have kissed or have brushed with the lightest of touch. It doesn’t matter if it happened three days or three months ago. The memory is there as soon as you touch the spot and it all comes back, flooding your body with something very close to the original sensation.
And you smile as you realize that even your senses belong to me.
Photo (by .Zia)
When it comes down to it you don’t claim her with chains or whips, or pain and humiliation. Those things are enjoyable and allow for great upheaval but you really make her yours in the aftermath. With small gestures and a gentle touch. With adoration and tenderness in your every move.
When you make her feel like your princess you become indispensable in her heart.
You’ve always claimed to be my insatiable little slut. Today I plan to put that to the test so we can experience together that moment when pleading for more turns to begging for it to stop. When your body, overwhelmed by sensation, can’t take it anymore and your mind reaches the breaking point.
If your moans and thrashing about have satisfied me I just might listen to your pleas.
Gosh, this is where I want to be. You don’t have to be in suit, but it was a draw no question. But whether my head is between your legs, whether I’m just laying my head between your legs— or wrapped with your arm, between your legs, that is the most precious space you can share with me. Your hold me in ways I love, you provide such a comfortable place to be anybody I need to be. But this shot, is one of a position that I know— If I needed you would give me, assuming it didn’t come to you first. I selfishly lean on your strength so much, even when your strength meter is on overdrive in other needed ways. You still let me feel that, you never refuse to give me what you think I need. I may need this now and again, but right now— I just want it. ♥ Smile.
Is it so terrible to like the rabbit hole? I think not. I like when you fall down behind me. ♥
Your hands have spoiled me, another’s touch will never be enough
Your lips have branded me, burning trails along every limb they touch
Your love has left me with an unquenchable thirst, for I will never be satisfied
You must know that you will ruin me, but such a beautiful death it shall be.
I will confess i find it hard to resist slipping my hand into the dress of a well presented girl… Naturally, just the ones that I have a particular… familiarity… with. But generally with littler regard for surroundings or circumstances.
There is something particularly sensual about feeling that slide, feeling the softness of the skin, the weight of the breast, the impression of a nipple on one’s palm… And the expression it tends to provoke is rather delightful to. It can be shock, surprise, indignation… But a good way to give a reminder - you are just care-taker of this body, it belongs to me. To be used whenever, wherever, and in whatever way I choose. Your blushes, squirms or complaints are really nothing to me. My amusement outweighs all of that… Remember your place, and your function.
“Sometimes a man just wants to explore what he’s conquered.”
Pin me down and assault me with your mouth.
Ropes and cuffs aren’t necessary when your body is equally as capable of enslaving me. Your bare hands and sheer force would be enough. That’s how you’d fool me into thinking that I’m in for a night of roughness, by aggressively pinning my wrists to the mattress and immobilizing my legs with yours. Little would I know that you’re not about to fuck me until I’m sore. You’re not about to leave vicious little bite marks across my writhing body, like you’d done before. No, tonight you’re going to contrast the force of your touch with the softness of your mouth. You are going to be painfully slow and unbearably gentle, and that will be my torture.
For a girl like me, the feeling of your lips slowly moving from my jaw to my neck would be agony. I’d shiver and squirm against your grip, wanting you to move faster, lower. You’d lick me across my collarbones, and I’d expect you to bite. I’d want you to bite. You wouldn’t, not this time. Instead, you’d continue on down to my heaving breasts, flick your tongue over a nipple and harden it. Oh, you’d spend a long time there. You’d spend decades just licking and sucking and grazing your teeth over my desperate tits. I’d be pulling against your merciless hands, practically wrestling you, but you’d be much too strong. You’d order me still and I’d feel my skin throbbing against your fingers, feel the red marks they’d undoubtedly be hiding.
It wouldn’t be until you got to my navel that I’d really start begging. I’d beg you to fuck me now, to give me your cock, to stop the ruthless movement of your mouth and take. You’d tell me to hush. Sometimes a man just wants to explore what he’s conquered. The lower you’d go, the slower you’d go, and the more time you’d spend on the most sensitive parts of me. Like that little spot above my abdomen, the spot that makes all my muscles clench. Or that little crevice right above my clit, so close to where I ache. My pussy would be so wet and needy for your lips, but you’d evade it. You’d concentrate on my inner thighs, on anywhere but the soaking wet hole you own, and I’d be powerless. So powerless.
Once you’d give in and finally lick my needy pussy, once you’d bring me to the edge with that torturous mouth of yours, only then would you loosen your grip a little.
But you wouldn’t let me go until I let go, screaming my gratitude.