Wallowing

I have a couple favorite images I've evoked before to describe how I feel with Daddy. Touching him, being fucked by him, immersing myself in the experience of being with him are such hedonistic thrills for me.

When he dominates me and pulls me down into the raw sexual pleasure of our connection I'm like a hog rolling in slop. I want the smell of him on me. I want to rut and grunt while he takes all my body offers him. When we're done I feel sated and languorous in much the same way the hog would feel after a full trough of vittles.

When I've come down from sex with him I'm in a different world. Whether I found subspace or not I've been transported. Every nerve ending is awake. His grazing touch on my skin sends ripples of goose flesh across the canvas of my body.

I am also a shark feeding on chum. I swim through the blood and gore rolling in it to coat myself in the scent. I thrash and eviscerate all control I had to act as a lady. I debase myself in whatever sinful way he desires.

All these are meager ways to describe the feelings and sensations that blanket my body and soul when we connect. Our chemistry is like nothing I've ever experienced before.

Advertisements