Sometimes Play Is Not Just Play

1 min read

photo: SexArt

I love feeling your dominance. I know it’s not forever. I know it’s only a moment in time, or two, or three, when and if I see you again. These are moments of surrender when I get to let go. When my whole being exists solely for you. I can kneel in full display if all you want to do is watch, make me long for your touch, rough or gentle. Or I could be your pleasure slave, fully available to please your every whim.

I crave the tugging of the hair, the slap on my behind, the whips, the crops, the straps. One, two, three… fifty, fifty-one… what comes next? At some point, I lose track. But I know you are keeping track. Your senses heightened as I endure what you deliver. As the pain becomes my pleasure.

But despite the appealing side of rough and harsh, I confess I also love the times when you park your lips on my neck, to then let them travel up and down the curve of my left side, from the shoulder to my ear, as you stand behind me and gently warm me with your soft breath. The kisses you softly plant are felt as if delivered on my bare naked body since your presence would strip me of any clothing that may stand between us.

Oh, and how I love feeling the tips of your fingers travel from the cheeks of my behind to the cheeks of my face. They do this with the slowest motion, as they find each part of my womanhood as they move. They feel the wetness of my pussy, and taste my sex with the pores of every tip, and harden you with naughty images your mind creates. Slowly and gently your fingers travel with the innocence of your shy side.

I’ve resisted your lips for as long as I could, knowing they’d detonate the passion of a beast if they met mine. But it happens anyway. And I love each and every one of your kisses, and how your tongue awakens after our lips seal. It finds mine, and they dance a melody that only those two, us two can hear. You taste divine. I can’t resist. You can’t either.

And of course, I love the ecstasy of your thickness inside of me. And the intense pounding of our fornication. But I also love when I get to rest my head on your chest, and you touch my hair softly and sweetly.

Play is play. But sometimes, play is not just play.

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