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When you clamped my hand tight between your thighs and moaned into our kiss, I should have taken off your wet panties and finger-fucked you until you were exhausted. I should have let you suck me off, the way you asked to, running your fingers over the hard places between my legs. I should have let you ride me, your nipples against my cheek, your ass in my hands, your head back in bliss. I should have fucked you, both of us gasping and coming and biting. I should have kept my mouth on your cunt for a whole year.
Tied, spread, thighs glistening as you wait for me. I press my tip teasingly to your assó-you raise your hips, and it is so beautiful that I grow dizzy. Gently, I trace my fingers along your cunt. I know that you want me to be rough now, that you want my desire to be so outrageous that I cannot think. You want me in your ass, hard, pounding, exploding, obliterating us both in pain and obscenity. You arch, circle, as my fingers catch on your clit. I have lost the moment. ďFuck you!Ē you scream as you come, furious.
You ride me to a few distracted climaxes, then notice me again and everything changes. You slow down, sink deeper, rise higher, twist and grip me, really fucking. I feel the tight sweetness begin, and I focus, too, so we can be together. ďI love feeling you,Ē you gasp. I pull you down, nuzzle your breasts, set up a counter rhythm with my hips, and now everything begins to speed up and melt. I feel how you can come now, but I wait...wait...wait...wait, wait, wait. Not teasing, but wanting our coming to be
, not just simultaneous.
Itís hard to explain. Your cunt... Sometimes a flower, sometimes a galaxy. Sometimes a river, sometimes a river of fire. Sometimes singing, sometimes spinning, sometimes vanishing into thin air, sometimes appearing in the heavens. It is not a thing, it is not not a thingÖbut it is not a thing. It is like nothing else, and nothing else will do. It has fooled me a thousand times, but in a way nothing else could. I never know if I am touching it, but it feels like nothing else. I never have enough time with it, and I never ever will.
I caught sight of you under the covers, your knees raised and spread, wavering, your head back, mouth open, your shoulders rolling in time with the work of your unseen fingers. I watched quietly, not wanting the magical scene to vanish. When you came, so freely and beautifully, I hurried away feeling both guilty and blessed. There have been extraordinary moments, but I donít think anything can excite me as quickly and purely as the memory of that one. Even now, writing about it, I know that I will come soon. And I know that you werenít thinking of me.
Remember when she sat on my cock and you sat on my mouth, and we ground our way through the afternoon hours, sometimes coming together like a choir, sometimes rising in succession like the chairs of a ferris wheel? Remember how afterwards we were each furiously jealous and horny whenever we thought about it? Well thatís still true for me. I was so pleasure-drunk I wouldnít have minded dying. I was so jealous it could have killed me. It felt complete, but it must not have been. Come grind on me again-ómaybe we can get the ends to meet.
Things we bring when we fuck: alcohol, porn, vibrators, dildos, handcuffs, blindfolds, lubes, condoms, fingers, unspoken fantasies, whips, painful memories, bottles, random thoughts, icing, biting, dancing, tongues, sex words. Things we keep away from when we fuck: cats, dogs, kids, clothes, blankets, TV remotes, semen, long kisses, third parties, cameras, hot food, telephones, ex-partners, nipples, baby talk, blood, voyeurs, spoken fantasies, facials, painful memories, family members, bugs, anal, music, paddles, feet, eye contact, missionary, snowballing, religion, flashlights, urine, tinfoil, windows, furniture, wires, rulers, your unexplained late nights, othersí names, promises, sand, knives, mirrors, money, medical utensils, cooking utensils, inevitable mortality.
Sometimes fucking is like a kiss underwater, sometimes it is like being wrapped in white noise, sometimes it is like slamming on the brakes, sometimes it is like jumping out of a window, sometimes it is like a fistfight, sometimes it is like smashing glass, sometimes it is like being devoured, sometimes it is like a handshake, sometimes it is like breaking the law, sometimes it is like holding oneís breath, sometimes it is like balancing on a high ledge, sometimes it is like scratching an itch, sometimes it is like being lost, sometimes it is like kneeling in church.
At first it was the strangest. She loved the swallowing, loved it more than I understood. It was more than sex. And I was less than necessaryóthat was clear. I asked about it, but never got an answer. Then once, when I was still in the throes, she snaked up and kissed me, and her mouth emptied into mine. First, shock. Then, disgust. Then, it was like my cock was made of steel and our mouths were still glued together when she climbed on and rode forever. Again, and nonstop for months. But we could never talk about it.
Itís fucked up how youíll fuck me even though you hate me. Like you get off on hating yourself by fucking me. Fine. But once I get you tied, face down, and your ass is striped from the hard spanking, youíre writhing and your cunt is soaked, by then, when you beg me to fuck you, I ram into you from behind, and I donít hate you. I fuck you hard and I know each thrust hurts, and I know that youíre already done coming, and I only pretend to come. I am not into it. I donít hate you.
Is that you? Yesóis it you? It IS. Do you have it in your hand? Yes. Do you have it in yours? Iím fingering myself. Mmmm. That makes me so hard. Are you wet? Let me hear. OKÖ.ÖÖÖÖ...Did you hear? Fuck that is so hot. Unnhhh. Are you close? Getting there--yes. Are you? Yes, Jesus. I want to fuck you so fucking hard. I want you. Mmmm. Yes, take me, fuck me, fuck me. Come inside me. Ram my cock into you again and again and againó Fuck, yes, fuck, fuck!ó Can you!? Yes, you!? Yes, NOW! FUCK!
Let me get my tongue inside your tight ass and my fingers inside your bold cunt and my cock inside your electric mouth. I want to get the center of me inside the center of you, whatever our centers are. I want to feel you come at the center, where everything happens first and nothing is a wave or ripple or cry from someplace else. I ache to get at your core. Every shove, gasp, grip, grind, rub, bounce, bite, slap, arch, grunt, shudder, jut, scratch, shock, spasmÖthey all come from somewhere. I want to be there. Let me in.
Sounds to fuck to: furniture creaking, heavy breathing, torsos thumping, wet penetrations, toy drawer rummaging, encouraging commentary, thighs brushing, condom unwrapping, luxuriating description, slappings, unzipping, laughter, lube squirting, close-now querying, incoherent obscenities, joints flexing, fantasy confessing, surprised yelping, clothes falling, timing requests, birds singing, climax shouting, pleadings, neighbors fucking, lubed stroking, nails trailing, crying, between kiss mumbling, sucking, first thrust OHing, vibrators humming, passionate growling, linens slipping, involuntary gasping, lapping, cum splashing, teeth grazing, legs flailing, urgent commands, hair crumpling, thrust grunting, feverish praise, close-now moaning, wet withdrawal, background porn, spanking, snap unsnapping, mattress squeaking, airplanes crossing over, again begging.
If we give in to our desires and piss on each other during the shower, we never make it to the bed. We never even fuck. We just masturbate furiously, watching each other, provoking each other, over and over again. I come against your racing fingers; you double over as you come, then jam your wet fingers into my mouth while I come again. Eventually we are sitting, facing, water pouring over us, grinding our hips in the air toward each other, jerking off. Your cunt is bright fire red. My cock is angry-bruise purple. We wake up sore, embarrassed.
A blowjob is fineóvery nice. But it is not what I want. I want you to sit on my face, grab the headboard, and ride until you canít come anymore. While youíre at it, tell me to tongue-fuck you harder, to slide fingers up your ass, tell me that you can feel my tongue swirling across your hard clit. I want to drink from you, to feel your hot swollen lips against my face, to feel your hips rock as you fuck my face. I want to feel the wet slow motion shock of your orgasm again and again.
Now that I have found you In the cools of your evening smile The shade of your parasol And your love flows through me Though I drink at your pool I burn for you You and I are lovers When night time falls around our bed In peace we sleep entwined And your love flows through me Though an ocean soothes my head I burn for you Stars will fall from dark skies As ancient rocks are turning Quiet fills the room And your love flows through me Though I lie here so still I burn for you --Sting
Iím afraid of coming too hard, hurting her. But even if not hurting her, justÖmaking too much of a racket. Like the unhinged version would be out of place, or ridiculous, maybe. So I keep myself quieter. A past girlfriend of mine used to get really inside herself when she came, almost silent. And I believed her when she said it was good, but I wondered if it was good
. But now I think that maybe she felt like I do now, afraid of being too big. When Iím alone I roar like a lion, let my body explode.
Once I danced with this girl, and she seemed to be very drunk. Sort of dazed, maybe a little unsteady, sort of out of it. It wasnít sexy dancing. But at one point I leaned up to her ear and said, youíre having a good time. And she laughed. Then after a long moment she leaned into me and said, I can come anytime, without touching. So I laughed and told her that I envied her. And I asked, is that an invitation. She looked at me and said, little late for that, Iíve been doing it the whole time.
I swear Iíll fucking tear everything off your body, rip apart your seams, pop off your buttons, break open your zippers, stretch out your bands, twist over your clasps, smash your snaps, split your ties, separate your cuffs, rend your collar. Iíll shred your panties in my teeth, destroy your bra in with my fingers, jam my cock through your nylons. Then Iíll fuck you fuck you fuck you like a sudden midnight thunderstorm. Then youíll start to pretend you never came here for this. But you won't erase it by getting dressed again. Youíll never wear these things again.
You rise up until my cock canít reach you anymore, and then you press it between us and sit back down, riding me like a broomstick. Your wet lips glide up and down the length of me, until you settle your hard clit on the ridge beneath my cockhead, and you start the small circles. We will come like this, and we know it. You set your hips circling, and I set up my own opposite motion, and we groan together as we begin to hear the wet sounds we make. Oh Fuck! Can you? Fuck me! Now! Yes? Now!
We never fucked, but if we had, I would have spread your legs wide, so I could see everything. I would have spread your lips with my fingers, until I could see your hidden wetness. I would have raised your hips so I could see the tight pink rose of your ass. I know that seeing isnít everything, but I would have tried to see everything, so that afterwards I could tell myself that nothing was hidden. We never fucked, but if we had, I know I would have felt like I missed it, like you disappeared in the middle.
I drink from you, and you go to my head like hard cider or a stumble near the roof edge. I follow the rocking of your hips, lifting and dropping me like the steep swells just beyond the breakers. Your tongue swirls around mine like a roller coaster diving and banking and ending all too soon. The first lethal slow-motion-instant, the tires losing grip of the iceóitís your hand encircling my cock. First entering you, your folds parting, sealing: like waking up in the summer forestóat midnight. You intoxicate me. If only I were a more attractive drunk.
The cum shots do nothing for me. And I donít like the thirty minute orgasm wails, either. The kneeling blowjobs, the five positions in four minutes, the ultra close-up of cock and cunt zipping along at mach 2, the joyless gang bangs-ókeep all of that shit. Let me see people really fucking, the way real people fuck when theyíre into it and into each other. That would requireÖequality, maturity, imagination, passionÖ The participants might have to know each other, like each other, even. Theyíd have to, like, care about getting each other off. Where is the genuine fuck porn?
I have jerked off ten thousand times thinking about the look on your face when you come. Ten thousand more times for when you reach the point of no return and tell me to fuck you harder. And again, ten thousand for when, at a certain point, you spread yourself wider with your fingers. Who knows how many times, thinking about the sight of your cunt descending to my mouth? Iíve emptied myself out, by the hour, thinking about you riding those others' cocks, coming with your clit rammed up against their stems. Have we fucked nearly as many times?
Iím sorry that I donít have an erotic poem for you, one full of mouthy sounds and moany pauses and almost closed eyes. Iím sorry that I donít have a perfect body, or sexy clothes. If I had a hot car, Iíd definitely give you a set of keys. I donít have a million dollars or a summer houseó-sorry about that. I cannot play the guitar (but not for not trying). Someday, though, youíll want more than anything a wonderful deep hot wet loud long
fuck. And that, my dear, I can give to you. Let me know.
My first time was with my cousin. I was 10 and she was 13, and it was not sexy. Mostly it was her attempt to be grownup and my attempt to be special to someone. She was not wet enough, I was not hard enough, and we were both afraid. When I think about it now, it does excite me-óor Iím excited by what it could have been. She wasnít a virgin, so I got in eventually. She held me tenderly, and I think that she really did like me then. I havenít spoken to her in many years.
Letís fuck in a big open field, only with no dirt or mud or ants or mosquitoes or wasps or noise from trucks or pesticides or airplanes or lightning or fertilizers or field mice or rocks or roots or farmers or wild dogs or locusts or sharp grass or spiders or cows or cow manure or crows. Letís not get sunburned or dehydrated or photographed or lost or stuck. Or maybe it should be a beach-ósuch a beautiful place to fuck! But with no gulls or shells or seaweed or crabs or sand or tidal odors. I love nature.
Hereís how to wake me up to fuck: Get naked. Lay back and spread your legs wide. Feel the cool air on your body. Picture yourself riding a thick cock. Lube up your dildo. Rub it between your lips until you are wet. Slide it into you with one hand and stroke your clit in circles with the other. Arch your back. Raise and lower your hips. Fuck yourself deeply. Moan. Writhe. Tremble. Shudder. Moan. Last as long as you can. Come loudly. Lean over and whisper that you want to get fucked. Wait for response. Repeat from the beginning.
I donít want to scratch an itch with you. I donít want to drug myself into calmness. I donít want to beat you at anything or to prove anything. I donít want to map you or conquer your map. I donít want to make you need me or to immerse myself in my need for you. I donít want to hurt you or fill you or brand you. I donít want to entertain you, or myself. I donít want to learn anything. What I want is to fuck you until we burn white hot--and then scatter on the wind.
I donít know how it got to be that my wanting it turns you offÖand vice versa. Weíre great once we start, but our approaches to it arenít exciting to each other. Like hungry people who would rather not eat once they hear each otherís expression of hunger. I am too direct, I guess. You donít want to hear me talk about sliding my tongue into your ass. And you are too indirect for meóI donít like deciphering hints, like a child looking for dropped bread crumbs in the forest. If not for this weíd fuck everyday, I bet.
Someone masturbates thinking of you. Whoever you are, you have friends or enemies or superiors or subordinates or neighbors or associates or family members or students or teachers or fans or ex-lovers or strangers who think of you when they come. They stroke, writhe, tense, and come, wanting you. All the time--just like you do. So much desiring, yet so secret. If we could see it, silver filaments connecting us all, then everything would be different. We so much want to be wanted. It raises us to our full height. Come for me. I promise to come for you.
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