Monday, 4 January 2016

Sailor - Phone Sex

I can hear the catch of breath on the end of the receiver. I can hear the need and desperation in your sound. I twist you up like a lock of hair. Like a cog in a machine.

I want to hear you come. I want to hear it in my ear. I want to sense it and feel it and drill it into my spine. I want it to make me wet and make me want you.

I give you some apocalyptic chat, some sing song. Talking about pleasure, mine and me. My cunt and your service to it. Im going to make you desire my body and my happiness more than anything you have ever known, just for a second. In a moment.

We go up and down, I can hear that ragged frail increasing breath, I can almost see your body rise and fall. It is frantic. I bay you to come. I encourage you to lose your head. I make you run and then all self control begins to dissipate and you crack like an egg.

Sound pull back. The breath you exhale. The heat of it. The dryness of your mouth. I can almost feel it against my cheek. The outpour. God the pleasure in hearing you suck air.

You weave me a story. You know what I like, I am breathing and responsive. You teeter on new ground.

You talk about humiliation, embarrassment, anal sex, denial and patience. You talk about hurting me. Thats when I begin to float away. Your voice, you have such a beautiful voice. It purrs in my ear and I am absolutely sopping. Dripping, fucking, wet.

Im cutting breath hard, I must sound great and awful. Hoarse and desperate, as I am. You call me terrible things. You tell me in exacting detail just how you will make me feel discomfort... and I believe you.

I believe in everything you say and I shatter into glass.

I piss in the bathroom and then drink water straight from the tap. Its late or early, again.

We talked in a cool down, easy, almost intimate. Weird. How we talk.


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