And yet, I still want him. I still ache for him inside me. I still want to feel his weight press me down into the bed and for him to take me until there is nothing left of either of us but the ashes.
Last night was beyond…beyond words really. I will attempt to put words to the feelings, to the actions, to the play…but they will pale by comparison.
When I arrived at his place, we spent time relaxing and then went to the bedroom to lie down and feel each other close. I call the right side of his chest “Home”. I feel more peaceful in his arms than anywhere on this earth. It is a place and yet it is not a place at all. It is the connection of my soul to his, of my body to his, of my heat to his. Why does touch hold such a deep carnal and soul completing place in our psyches? I touch him and I am immediately calmed, relaxed, melting. I cannot stop touching his skin, feeling the soft fur that covers his body. It is as if my fingers are addicted and through their travels over his body their cravings are sated. Though, the satiation never lasts for I am an addict in this need for touching him.
When I was in the midst of this thrall of touch, he rose and pulled off my shorts. He put himself between my legs and I felt my body succumb to his lips and tongue. He has a talent for turning me inside out with the sensations that he sends through me from that very core of my feminine being. I lost myself to the waves of pleasure and the feelings that his tongue and mouth elicited from me. I am greedy, so very greedy for I ache for him inside me while he is having his way pleasing me. The longer his mouth is on me, the harder it is for me to keep still and allow the pleasure that he gives. That is hard to admit, for a submissive should not have the choice to allow or not. A submissive serves and in this service pleases. To acquiesce is what is demanded at this time, I do my best but ultimately I have an all stripping need for him inside me that I can’t not voice. I beg for it, then. At first, he denies me. He wants to give the pleasure, he is in command. I whimper but obey and the pleasure of what he does washes me further into the tide. But, oh, the need mounts. I bite it back, I tremble with the effort but in the end I am weak and I beg yet again.
At some point, he takes pity on my tortured psyche and allows my desire. Then he mounts me and I am simply carried away from all other thought but the feeling of him inside me, the stretching of my body to accept his. In this moment, all I can sense is the joining of our two bodies to one. The smell of sex fills the room, his weight pins my body to the bed, his legs push mine apart. Oh, how I revel in the feel as we become one. As soon as I have what I want though, it is not enough. Waves of pleasure roll from him to me and back. I am beyond the need and far into the want of him. I want him deeper and further inside me than is possible. This want of him fills my mind, my senses, my soul. I want him to abuse me until we are merged into one person. I want him to drill completely through me until he has mashed me completely into his bed. What is it that he does to bring this out in me? I don’t need an answer, just more of him.
I fear I will never be able to satisfy this addiction completely. But I do know I am having a sinful good time in the effort. And I have not gotten to the story of last night that I started out telling.
To be continued…