Monday, January 18, 2010

Postcards

Arrival. The moan that escapes from your lips, pressed to mine, as my hand runs down your back, under your waistband, separates the sweet curves of your cheeks, and finds the entrance we both prefer.

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The white lines of the rope across your flesh as you lie bound to the table. The matching lines, red, which arrive one by one as the tools do their job, the whimpers that come with them. Your hair falling around my cock as I force it deep into your mouth. And your greedy ass, opened so wide by my fingers and your lust that my cock almost falls into it. As I thrust and remove, thrust and remove, using you for my pleasure.

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Lying nose to nose, breasts to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock.

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The look of glee and concentration on your face as you ease your cock into me. The way you drift off to another plane as your hips get the rhythm and our bodies and minds melt together.

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The proud triumph as, kneeling between my knees, you raise your left arm and circle it with your other hand to show me how your hand, wrist, and more had just been deep inside me.

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The arch of your back and feel of your glutes as you thrust back at me, spoon fashion, your ass open and wanton, my cock buried so deep I can feel your organs. The tremor that finally starts in my toes as my body spills over the edge and floods you with my hot cum.

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Lying now, at peace. Spoon fashion, my hand cupping your breast, my belly in the curve of your back, your nates in the curve of my groin. Two as one, my lips brushing your ear. Murmuring the words you are such a clever girl.

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