He made her feel like a pornstar,
the way he hyped her
while she was on top.
His hand touched her soul
when it wrapped around her throat,
or went up the back of her neck,
And when that delicious tattooed hand tightens into a fist
with her hair woven through his fingers
She melts.
He pushes harder, pulls harder
she’s his even if he doesn’t want her.
He strokes the depth of her aura
when he strokes her skin
those hands
go straight through to her picean waters,
it ripples through her being.
He's a disaster
and he makes a mess
she giggles at the idea of serving him.
She can stand on her own,
but what joy to be carried.
Her need lies only between her legs
her want is written all over her.
Legs wrapped around his torso
arms around his neck
Lips meet, tongues dance
Spirits soar
if just for now
if just for fun
She happily lost
He happily won
-Er
About the Creator
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Playing With Fire Pt. 2
Amber and Justin went outside to smoke and calm down. They talked for a bit while they sat on the porch of her four-bedroom rental home, but she knew if they went back in and got on that couch things were likely to get hot and heavy again. Plus, it was really late or early, and Amber had to work tomorrow. Amber and Justin shared one more hot kiss and she sent him on his way. She sat down on the couch still dripping wet from their make out session and she had to do something about it. Whoever said women don’t get blue balls was an idiot. If she didn’t take care of this right now she’d be a wet mess all night and half the day tomorrow. She dipped her fingers in the puddle of lustful wanting that Justin left between her legs and before his headlights left the window, she imagined his face between her thighs and made herself orgasm. It wasn’t enough, of course; she probably could have cum three or more times, she was still so turned on. She hoped that would tide her over until the next time he came over.
By Evelyn Rose8 years ago in Filthy
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm6 days ago in Fiction
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