That Thing You Do

1 min read

He writes to me
tells me of his hunger and his need.
Sends me whispers of his desire
I read them, thighs pressed tight, unable to sit still,
desperate to move.

Darling, he writes. I see your name and I am eager, ready, aching.
I type to you with my cock hard and standing tight in front of the laptop.

He tell me that no matter the subject — physics, nature, philosophy, or wild wanton phrases — it all has the same effect on him. I read it as though coded in the spaces and the words he skips, he is telling me where he has stopped to touch himself.

Lover, he writes. I feel the silk of my skin stretched over my hardness and feel your hands, your mouth, your tongue and breath.

He says he dreams of turning me around so I am on all fours above him, my pussy wet, dripping over his face.

Slide over me, he whispers, and it is though I feel his body trembling and electric with anticipation under me, slide the whole lovely wet length of you over me. Feel my tongue, lizard like, flicking in and out. My fingers slippery exploring your ass, your pussy, holding your hips to press you close and closer. Wanting to inhale you. Wanting you out of your mind, out of your body, out of control above me, exploding in a liquid flood, your hair brushing my thighs as you sway, tempest swept.

I know he is seeing himself, as in a mirror, standing before me
the tip of his cock shining from my mouth
me falling back to writhe on the bed
Waiting, waiting for him to slide between my legs.

Oh, my lover, he writes. I see myself
slowly sliding in
fitting
filling
holding deep inside so you feel the beat of my heart within you,
the pulse of blood calling to blood.

It is as though I feel the gleam in his eyes then,
sharp as my nails when I reach back and rake his thighs
urging him on and in

No darling, no lover, no my dear then,
no, the gentle time ends
out and in like a spear, a shaft, a loving dagger
again and again
long and hard the thrusts,
to the hilt, and grinding deeper still
kisses devouring
hands grasping

How we hunger for one another.

How each bite only intensifies the desire, the appetite, the hunger.

You turn me now so our eyes may meet,
turn me so you can bend to suck my breasts,
feel the tender hardness of my nipples.

Not now, not now. I buck wildly, shove you back, straddle you.
Mine the rhythm now.
Mine to lean back or forward as my mood and need take me.
You have unleashed my power,
Now you will submit.
Now I take the spark of your power within me.

Oh, how we burn,
how we shine,
how we burst and shatter.
My breath harsh and ragged
I reach where we are joined and clasp you,
Together, I am you and you are me,
sliding into me.
One finger.
Two.
I hold them up,
bejeweled,
a spiderweb of lust between my fingers.
Then reach down to paint your lips with our sweet gloss.

Leave a Reply