Fuck Me Til I’m Empty Inside

2 min read

photo: SexArt

It’s freezing cold outside.

I run from my car to his front door and wait on the porch. He comes to the door in a robe, freshly showered. He hugs me hello as the door closes behind us.

He watches my movements as I nervously remove my shoes, briskly making my way to his darkly lit bedroom. I want to speak but I can’t find any words to say. It’s been three months since I’ve seen him. Where has he been? A million thoughts come to mind but I say nothing at all.

I push him on to the bed and wrap my legs around his thighs, locking him flat against the mattress.

Time to turn my animal instincts on.

I turn off my racing mind and focus. I start with his skin. I press my hand against his chest and draw down his pelvis, lifting the weight of my fingers as I close in to his cock. I lift up my fingers and lean down to kiss his tattoos. I start by tracing the design on his arms, I forcefully spit on his chest and pull my wet tongue down his abdomen. His cock is fully erect and dripping. I have him right where I want him.

My mind short circuits for a second, flickering in and out of the unanswered questions I had been rolling over the last few months. I withdraw for a second and sit up. He intercepts and pulls me in. I follow his lead.

The further I fall into my mind the more I rely on his lead to pull me in. He notices but he refuses to overcompensate for my absent mind. He makes me work for it. He wants me to want it. Fair enough. I suppose I’m not here for games. I came here for sex.

I understand both sides of the coin. I get why men call women confusing. I’ve never asked for anything other than sex, I come over with the intention of only having sex, so why would any other details about our lives matter? Why all of a sudden should I care about him drifting away with no explanation? It shouldn’t matter and I refuse to let it matter.

But the thoughts, they keep creeping in. I look into his eyes searching for answers. The room is pitch black but I see right through him. He’s colder. He’s distant. The small connection we shared before and after sex is gone and I’m the only one of us who notices. I feel the emptiness in his eyes filling me up from the bottom of my toes wrapped around his feet. I let go and let the instincts take over.

I fill my mouth with his cock, the pleasure I know he loves. I flick my tongue against his shaft, tickling his balls, as I move down pushing my tongue inside his ass. He moves around moaning with pleasure, but I won’t finish him until he cums inside me.

I want his hands on my hips, his dripping cock pulsing inside me and his lips against mine. I want that fake love to fill me up and empty me out, leaving nothing behind.

He opens his eyes, and I see them shining briefly, starry and bright. He grabs my hips, guiding me up and down slowly. He lifts himself up, pressing against my cold hard nipples, kissing my neck and pulsing his cock against me. Our hands are all over each other, each touch more heightened in sensation than the last.

I put my hands against his face as I feel him cumming; he looks at me.

Those starry eyes draining me and pulling me into the void.

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