Inspired by the brilliance of Carl Sagan
It is rare for me to raise my eyes and not be disappointed. From this mortal coil I see heaven waiver but remain unchanging.
To soothe myself my tongue swirls around Justin’s velveteen tip — my lips are cool, his cock hot, I am privy to his pleasure.
This vast and intimate space, so unimpressive from below, is where my throat relaxes and Justin’s shaft slides down like honey.
In a stew of stars and cosmic dust he cums like an eclipse, so slowly here and so quickly gone. I am immersed in comets of shadow fuck as my lover brings me along.
Out there in the twinkling darkness, my clit, my slit, my tits and lips are not private to this man. Justin owns all of me, and to him I selfishly relinquish my flesh so that my spirit can rise.
For cupping my breast, I kiss his neck.
For his hand on my belly, I kiss his chest.
For every finger that enters me, I bow my head and pay my tithe.
With his prick in my cunt I cease to die, expanding and contracting in my absolved absolution I can taste my soul.
For every flick of his tongue, I open myself to shared cries and sparks, co-mingled celestial ecstasy and pain on this undulating plain of sex. In space no one can hear you. In space we mutely guide one another along.
I smell the melody of Justin’s flavor. I nibble the rainbow of sounds from Justin’s gut, the utterances from his groin. I hear the vision of his cock gliding in and out of my brownish, reddish, moist, slick folds. Heart to heart. Pink to pink.
My cunt is battered by the ethereal waves that his ardent prick provides. With loosely closed eyes I can see that blue dot, that pale dot that is us, the dot that is our home. In my arrogance I despise and roundly denounce it. Escaping when I can only to be captured and returned.
Love and life is meaningful when you float and bathe in its gifts. Life and laughter are hollow when your toes wiggle in the sand, and you pray to become Icarus.
Justin, my Justin, please enter and fill me with motion. Please fuck me and fill me with the joy and sadness, love and hate, that only breath and death can provide. Gladly I will be singed by the sun.
If your cum spills or drips, I will gather it with my fingertip and suck it clean. I am neither saint nor sinner. I am nothing, yet I am everything. I can create, and I will destroy.
Justin hears my thoughts and his prick pulsates and teases, resting the velveteen head in the mouth of my folds, but no further.
We are suspended in a sunbeam, we are glowing vibrations. Sadly, stillness and forever never last, and madly my lover plunges and stings. My lover’s fingers pull me along.
With every thrust a new star is born. In the coalesced pinpoints of my embryonic bath I steep like tea as his hands spread wide my loveliness, enhancing his view of the drenched universe that I share with him.
On that minuscule dot I only live to leave and swallow his cock, kink and kindness. When I am unfettered my lungs expand and my blood flows free, no longer dormant and stagnant under a soulless burden. I impatiently wait to cum, it is my oxygen.
Remaining in limbo for as long as I can, I ponder that pale dot. Everyone I have ever known, who have lived out their lives in the dust, become once again important. It is only when I fuck and scream that I can again feel my humanity.
Within every brutal thrust and slap are a myriad of delicate emotions, blood red and rose white. My cunt is wet fire, Justin’s prick is piston friction, together we blaze while we blend. We whisk each other along, and our fragile wax wings begin to melt.
The pale blue dot is a very small stage, and gravity is cruel. I seek not to conquer it, for it is invulnerable. This speck is where destiny decrees I must return, to make my final stand and save me from myself.
With love my dear Justin lowers me down, I hate him as I adore him. But when tomorrow night comes he will rouse me again, arouse me and carry me back to life.
With all due respect to Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994