La petite mort

March 25, 2009 § 6 Comments

She needs release.

Her fantasies driving her mad.

Making her obsess.

She needs a mans hand to stroke her.

To open her up like a soft flower.

Coral pink and gentle red.

Beautiful.

Explore her with your fingers.

Write your name on her clitoris with the tip of your velvety tongue.

Or the end of your cock.

Tame her wild ways.

Make her wet.

Make her taste you with the tips of her rosy lips.

Devour her needs.

Tie the rope.

Fasten it well around the curve of her delicate wrists.

Spread her legs like the wings of butterflies.

She needs this now.

Begging.

Her head thrown back against a halo of cushions that surround her head.

Candles pushing her shadows against yours.

Thrust in deep.

Taste her nectar.

Push her.

Create her world.

As her eyes close.

Her lips part to your invading mouth.

Fuck her.

Gently at first.

Allow her silk to coat your cock.

Now faster.

Harder.

Allow your moans to dance freely.

Move.

Gracefully.

Make her cum.

She’s yours.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

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§ 6 Responses to La petite mort

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