Digging Into You

Pleasure tends to knock me out a little… And not all the way to the unconsciousness of sleep, but somewhere in limbo between there, and being fully present and attentive. It’s like my system sends all my focus to the pleasure points, and my brain in turn loses some of its power.

It’s a weird one to understand, because obviously we all want to fuck someone who is present in the moment. But I’m there, believe me, you’re not missing a centimetre of my body, or spirit. But, me — the funny, talkative and sarcastic women, she’s left the room. And it’s as if all that remains is this primal energy, with the sole purpose of mutual satisfaction. Hesitation, insecurity and shame left along with the women. The body holds tightly onto curiosity, determination and eagerness for defeat.

I hadn’t seen ‘M’ for about two weeks because I was out of town. Finally back, I made my way over as soon as I could. We had been teasing each other for way too long. I felt like I could bite into his skin and tear a chunk out, you know? I was frustrated, horny, impatient. I walked straight from his front door into his room and laid myself on his bed. I watched him shuffle around for a bit; packing away laundry, putting on some music, what ever the fuck else homie was doing. And there I was holding in a plea for him to get inside of me.

Admin finally aside, he joined me, and asked me what I’d like to watch. ‘I would like to watch you eat my pussy sir… I think it’s on Netflix?’ is all I was thinking. “Maybe just some music?” is what I thought was a little less horndog of me to say. Once play was pressed, my politeness wore off, and I lunged into him, filling his mouth with my tongue. Sucking, and pulling, at his lips sent me into a frenzy. What that bed had to endure for those 20 or so hours, was honestly savage.

I am a loud advocate for regular sex. But damn, I cannot deny how fucking good it is fucking someone you haven’t been able to. Starving bodies in desperate need of each other. I needed him to fill me so badly, deeply, roughly.

I am not a huge talker during sex, but, my face speaks volumes. In the midst of great sex, my face conveys a kind of anguish almost. My body being challenged to exceed its limits. The pleasure so overwhelming, I could break into tears. Every single time ‘M’ and I have fucked, I have felt like I could cry. Our sexual compatibility is insane. It’s that nasty sex where your sweat, and come, and tears, and spit are all indistinguishable. And all over both of your bodies. That sex where pleasure drowns out pain so he can spread your legs practically double as wide as they usually can. That sex that has you digging your nails into his skin so deep that he bleeds.

I will never forget that feeling of seeing those scratches on his back and shoulders the next morning, lines of light red on raised skin. He looked like he’d survived some sort of ferrel animal attack. I was apologising, but honestly, it turned me on so much. The fact that he pushed me so far, that I didn’t even realise I was tearing into him? Oooof! His cheeky grin told me he felt the same. War scars, you know? In this battle of detonating each other into a bliss override, where reason vanishes and climax prevails.