Funny. Period.

You push your fingers into me, pull them out and draw a thin red line, down my sternum.

I am leaking. Come and blood and embarrassed excitement. Every time you touch me it feels like a shock. A blistering burn.

My body, my blood, my lack of control.

It begins with your cock in my mouth. It starts to unravel from there.  Gag and wretch and drool and dote. You kneel up and play with my breasts. Heavy and soft in your hands. I sink down and you tower over me. You pin me. You smack me back and forth across my little cheeks.

You tell me that I'm disgusting. I am. You tell me that I'm bleeding.

You throw yourself inside me. I can feel it. Do it for me. Lose yourself. You fuck me on my back and on my knees. You plunge your sodden fingers, into my mouth.

Rag me by my hair. I look at you and I spit blood at your face.

It drips off your chin
And down your neck.

I can see the anger heat you up. The sheer disbelief. You gob spit all over my eyes and mouth and force my head back onto the bed.

Strands of perfect red and white ooze from my body. I am ecstatic and perched on the edge. Just sitting, sat there. Riding on it, as you force me to ache.

Blood on my back, bloody prints on my hips and arse. Blood on my hands. There's blood on my hands. We climax in a magnetism. Stuck together and forced apart. Primal and raw and full of disgust. We come and crash like rivers. Rapid and barren and wild.

Red
Your hands
There's blood on your hands

We smoke a cigarette on the porch.  It never tasted so good.