Patience

I lie in my bed and think about his fat, wet dripping tongue, sliding down my ribs. I think about his lips and spit on my soft stomach and his mouth pressed hard against my pulsing cunt. I languidly fantasise about his bristled chin pushing into my tender flesh. Hearing noises like tasting and eating and enjoyment. In my thinking, he grabs my breasts in his palms. Squeezes them like raw meat. Pinches my nipples and tweaks the sore flesh. I think about the heat of his breath on my genitals and my mouth. How his skin feels pressed against mine. I close my eyes and a breath catches and I hear soft, demanding, nurturing words curl around my ears in wisps of white smoke. "You are mine. My girl". There is a burning and bubbling ache that I long to touch. I think about the sated way he smile's and sighs when I am spent and leaking on his lap. He how pulls me in and kisses me as I curl my spine and whimper. Time stretches out so far in front of my eyes and hands. Not long now. Be good and wait. Be good. Be a good girl and he will reward you.

Good form

He strokes my body, resting his hot palm on my cunt. I quiver and let him pet me and beg for him to eat me. He smiles at my desperation and indulges it. He licks me and I squirm and enjoy and ask after a short while, if I am allowed to fuck him. He leans back on his elbows, flattens to his back and looks at me. I feel desperate and over eager, such a silly slut. I ride his lap, he tells me he is enjoying this. He pinches and twists my nipples untill the bruise and the skin dries and crackles. I wince and yelp in pain, already over used and sensitive from previous clamping and gentle tortures. He pushes me upright. His heavy palm against my ribs sitting me up. He frees his other hand and smacks my breasts. He hits me hard, several times across the face. All my essence flicks free and is replaced by compliance and pleasure and submission to him. I snivel and my vision clouds and I come in gushing excretions onto his lap.

Hm.

blind and low and ugly

the slugs fed up and angry

her slimy trail, against the pale

is lost in all the shrubbery

garden gnomes and broken pots

grey and shiny sniffing dogs

broken stones upon the path

and a long salt bath

snails have homes and friends

the slug is tired of her mes aimes

bored and brown, and on the ground

slugs dont suffer growing pains

eating leaves, chewing bark

waiting for a pick me up

warmer weather, fleeting pleasures

Wetter in the muck