Saturday, April 11, 2009


I face her, and slide my hand up the inside of her thigh. She is hard, her cock pushing against the skin of her jeans, as I trace her desire with my fingers. She is pleased knowing that I cannot resist her relentless need or my own overwhelming desire for her.

We both know where this will end, the two of us, exhausted and thrilled in this continuous discovery and surprise at our compatibility, this shared happy expression of the growing depths of our emotional commitment and love for each other.

I have oft heard that sex is a form of communication, and for us it is both the bell and the echo, not just the bell or just the echo. When I stroke her cock with my lips, feeling her palm pressing softly on my head, knowing how much she loves to see her cock slip glistening from my mouth before she groans and pushes back in, again and again, it is just the start of this wordless hymn, this poem that I sing for her.

She answers my song as she pulls out and lifts my mouth to hers, and we kiss, mouths wide open trying to take as much of each other in as is physically possible. Her hands squeezing my tits, my erect nipples, my ass, grazing every inch of my skin, as she presses me back onto the bed. She dips her fingers into my pussy, as I moan, and she feels me slick and wet for her.

She watches my face and my body as I lift my hips to urge her in, groaning, begging. I like to feel the weight of her body on mine, to look up and see her smile at me. Her smile is an intense mix of cocky and hungry and loving, and tells me that in a few moments, she will enter me, getting closer to me than I allow anyone else, joined to me physically, as we are joined emotionally.

When she fucks me, it's her song, her music, her rhythm and pacing that we dance to. She leads, and I follow. And it is effortless. Sometimes she fucks me hard and fast, her rigid thick cock pounding and pounding my dripping cunt, and sometimes she fucks me slowly and gently, my pussy aching for her, trying desperately to keep her in deep, I never know which it will be, but I am always transported, freed from the bounds of gravity, to go willingly wherever her body takes me. Sometimes she just teases me with her fingers and her cock and her mouth, until I am on the excruciating brink of orgasm, wet and slick, suffering in the agony of pleasure, until she releases me and allows me come for her, again and again and again.

This is our duet, our paean of love and adoration, a poem of joyous exultation.

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