lascivious25:raininjuarez:This is what I want, angel. This is my oxygen Not the lower-case “o,”
lascivious25: raininjuarez: This is what I want, angel. This is my oxygen Not the lower-case “o,” that rolling, sweet, gentle, climax Not the one in the theater balcony, hushed and furtive, your happiness known by the stifled little-girl whimpers and the puddle in my palm Not the waking-up one, tender and slow, a wet welcome to the day No, those are lovely too, and I will want those forever But not now. Now, I want the screaming, tearing, wailing one. The one that begins as a moan but ends as a weeping cry Where you are certain that if it doesn’t end soon your body, head to toe, will pull itself into a single cramping ball of muscle The one where your arched soles and toes begin to ache The one where you slap and grab at the sheets, yourself, me as you convulse, uncontrollably Where part of you prays the heaving and writhing will end soon and the other part prays it never will Where the pleasure comes in waves, each one swallowing the last like little nesting dolls The one where your face looks tortured Where your screams stop neighbors on the street Where, at some point those screams catch in your throat and you can’t gather the strength to actually mutter another sound, your mouth open wide but no sound escaping The one that leaves me with a swollen, bloody lip from wrestling your thrashing hips in order to keep your clit sucked hard on my tongue That one. Its the one that makes me feel like Superman. That makes me feel as if I deserve your devotion. ”See, that is what I can do. Me. No one else.” That one. Yes. That. -- source link