I cannot wait to feel you. You push your body into mine, and I can taste sweat on your neck, and it drips down my spine. You fill up every single hole and I come and go, so many fucking times. It feels so good. So intimate and visceral and innocent and it feels so good. You talk to me, stitching fear and desire into my flesh and wetting my lips. You make me talk to you. I chat in my usual apocalyptic drawl about nothingness and the pursuit of my own dissolve. My acid bath. It hurts, when you fuck me on my back, and it makes me hope I'll bleed.
You are such fun. You chastise and berate me and make me feel like a very desirable whore, like a fleshy ball of sex and shame, a cute sweet innocence. An equal player in a game. You make me drool. You push your fingers into my mouth. You make the room beat and sweat. You shake my flesh and smack my cheek. You stall my breath. Every time I talk to you. I stall my breath
No comments:
Post a Comment