The knock came late with an urgency that scared me from my stoned out slumber.
“Who is it?”
Nothing, no response. I knew who it was. I could hear his nervous hands fumbling with the screen door. Almost simultaneously his fingers clasped the doorknob as I twisted the lock to open pushing the door open, perhaps more abruptly than you anticipated. I could see the agitation, revulsion and want in every part of your being.

Words that make no sense sputter out of your mouth in bleats, stutters and notes thrown around off key.
“Fuck, Fuck, fuck you.”
Your lumbering hand swings up yanking me into you. The sweat from your hand pulling out strands of my sleep hair, tangling, uprooting my body bringing it to yours by my neck, by my hair.

The kiss is hard and wet, making your already solid cock throb– I can feel it mashing against my thigh. Every part of you is raging, and I know you hate me and I know you love me– and you don’t want to be here, and you cannot stay away.

The tangled in hair fist yanks me to the floor, to my knees. Your cock to my mouth like the strongest of magnetic pulls. My tears start to flow, not because you are hurting me, or because I hate you–because I do, or because I love– because I do, but because I know your cock is about to fill me and I cannot, in that moment, express the ache that is filling my body, my cunt, my mind. I can smell you, the pulsing of blood pumping through you culminating in our throbbing flesh. I become that woman– twisted with my own want– licking and sucking the fabric of your pants, feeling your cock trapped, getting so fucking hard, straining behind denim and zipper.

A slow whimpering pained yell passes your lips.
“Take my cock out.”
My mouth gaped, my tongue dropped out, always ready for your cock, always ready to taste your sweat, brine and cum. I become that hungry little fucking slut, devouring you. I fuck you with my mouth, as always like it is the last time. 

With the firm grip to my hair, you rub my face into you, I inhale the smell of you as deeply as I can. A sick growl emanates from you as you pull me up and off your cock.

Our eyes lock for a moment and the love and pain fills us, you can’t take my gaze.

Your violent hand slaps across my cheek, and that wave of relief spreads across my body, everything grows silent — like snow falling in the middle of the night.

My head becomes slack. The hand that struck me wraps around my throat and begins to squeeze the air away from me. My body then become slack. In the moments of you chocking me I can feel your cock become raging hard, it always does when you choke me.
“you bitch, why do this to me?”

This flash of utter want and realization causes you to release the throttle you have around my neck and bend me over the back of couch. Grappling and tearing at my panties, getting them pulled away from my cunt just enough to plow into me. Of course my wet pussy takes every inch, greedy, insatiable. It hurts, I have not been fucked in a long time, your slamming into me stretches me open and fill me up. I can feel the tip of your cock ramming my cervix over and over,  feeling you in my belly with each thrust. Fucking me with violence, calm, confusion, hate and love.

The couch moving and sliding from its position, is not adequate for the type of pounding you need to give, so I brace myself to the floor, a firm strict downward dog– ass up, pussy sloppy from being fucked, my wet pubic hair matted with my own cum and liquid, the smell of cock and corn muffins fills the air. From this angle your cock sinks even deeper into me, causing a yelp of pain- yet I continues to meet each thrust. I want as much of your cock as I can get inside of me.

Between grunts and growls the weak and whimpering cum slut I can be manges to stammer the words,
“Please please–cum in my mouth, please.”

Really–it is more just a prolonging of the night– a longing I never want to end.

I don’t want you to cum, that is my cum and I am not ready for it yet. My interest lies in keeping you in a state of want– cock rock hard and ready one moment , to a place of–my god her hands feel incredible, what the fuck is she doing to me? state of being. I could keep that up all night, literally.

My mouth brings you to the point quite often, but I get too determine when I taste you–determined to let my mouth drop and pleasure you until the heat of your cum fills my mouth. However; the thought of not getting to feel your cock again, makes me want to prolong every moment I can get. I want to give you the slowest, pleasurable and tortuously delicious hand job, just so I can set to memory every ridge and vein. I just need to feel the velvet skin grow taunt, then firm, the soft flesh becomes bone.

“Bone me daddy.” yeah I say daddy…

With your hard shaft ready to be fucked, I hover my slit over you, feeling the heat of your cock reach for my pussy. My hand guides you to, but not in. I like to slide you around, feeling your pulsing head split open my full lips, and flick at my clit. If I were not looking down into your eyes from this vantage you would be nothing but a toy.

This move always makes me want to fuck, to ride, to grind down on you. But I opt for a slow fill, allowing me pussy to spread and take you in, like she too, is trying to put to memory every inch and girth of your cock. Looking at you as your fill me, I feel my eyes begin to slit, and my head fall to the pleasure your cock is giving me. I always want to start slow and do, but then something happens to me and I am fucking you, trying to get you inside of me as deep as I can. Wanting your cock to fill me so much it hurts, I want to feel it.

“Your gonna make me cum, if you keep doing that.”

I slow myself. No cumming for you.

My hands, lips and tongue replace my pussy– I taste the tartness of my pussy on you as I swallow the length of your root. I work slow allowing the cock to come down a bit, still hard, but not rigid and ready to cum. Hard enough for me to enjoy fucking with my lips and hands. My mouth scoops up your balls, filling my cheeks as my hand works the branch and tip.

Again, I bring your cock there. Filling my throat with you, at first I can easily take all of  you, but the harder I make you– the more my mouth fills and I choke a little, small tears begin to well as my mouth bobs up and down.

“Do you want to cum daddy?”

There is this man, who I seem to be inexorably linked to, like sleep to dreams. It is this connection that has made the sex, what sex is supposed to be–electric, connected, hot, and surprising. Sex is easy, it is finding this connection that is difficult–this connection that makes sex true–that gives me that feeling of wanting to drop to my knees in want of his cock. This cock is nice, big, thick and hot damn I do love making it hard–but it is not exceptional or extra extraordinary in any one way. It can only be that he is the exception that makes me long for a good old fashioned dick slap.

I spent my weekend, hell a week, doing just that, worshiping like a cock sucking devotee. Most of of my time spent with my mouth turning him from soft to hard, edging him close, then backing off. When his cock was not passing my lips, I was wishing it was–all I could think of was tasting his come slide down my throat, splashing across my tongue and making a mess of my promiscuous slut girl face. I almost, almost, had little concern for my own gratification, his cock seemed gratification enough. Lucky me though–he took care of me just fine.

There are moments with this man, when time comes to a stop–or when it spans beyond what I know as time. For the most part I am an eye closer or at least they drop to slits when fucking, and especially when getting close to cumming–but with him it is different. When my head tilts back my eyes are still on his and when his cock enters me our eyes lock and I can see this barely there strand–silver and clear that shimmers slightly in the flicker of the light– that connects from his retina to mine. The power of it all is really quite strange, wonderful and overwhelming.

And yet while I feel this insane closeness and connection to this man, it also seems like he will only be a moment. I think he is a bird. Not able to resist flight, but too habitual to fly off forever into a life with me. So…while I feel strongly about this man, I have been trying to keep in mind my New Year’s vow– to “let it be.” To let myself enjoy while I can, to love him when I can, freely and to accept him and his cock as a rare gift–that was perhaps not supposed to be given to me at this this time, or even not at, but somehow a rift in nature made the exception possible.

Languidly playing on my bed, rubbing, touching, looking, attempting to find some form of understanding–that we will never understand anyway, we talk causally and free.

Lackadaisically the words roll out of my mouth, “Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass?”

“No, I’ve tried, but it never did work. A few women said sure fuck me in the ass, but when it came right down to it…the pain was too much, my cock was too big.”

I thought out loud, “I would never say you could fuck me in the ass, not with that cock.”

We laughed and played some more.  I guess a seed had been planted and I was now thinking about my ass, “Why don’t you slip a finger in my ass.”

Drawing his finger to my mouth to coat it with spit then back down he slowly slid it into my ass, as he did so I could feel my pussy opening, breathing, wanting more. I love how my cunt feels when a finger or more is filling my ass. It is not the sensation I feel in my ass, but the sensation that my pussy feels from something being in my ass.

Soon I am slow grinding on his finger, and my fingers and his slip around my ever slicking pussy, my clit grows firm and tall, and I want more. Between my thighs he stands, I reach for his hard cock, and guide it to my pussy, sliding it around in the folds of fat flesh, coating it with me, then I slide it in and we fuck for a bit, while he continues working his finger my ass. I could’ve come like that, but I wanted more. I began to guide his pussy covered cock to my tight ass hole, first the head.

“Slow,” the words push out in a heavy breath, and we switch gears into slow motion and our eyes lock, between breaths of pain and lust,  his cock begins to fill me, and my greedy pussy is loving it, growing, blooming, wanting more and more.

It took time, the connection was strong, it made it possible for his big cock to fill my tight ass. Everything worked, soon his cock was fully inside me, and soon after that I was thoroughly enjoying riding his cock, bucking my ass into him.

My pussy was electric, on fire, full and slicked out. It always astounds me when it gets like that. I could feel my come approaching, I could see his come taking over his body.

“I wanna come, baby, oh can I cum, cum with me.”  I probably mumbled some lovely filth about filling my ass with cum.

And we fucked and bucked into each others bodies, our eyes penetrating, my ass full and pussy in sever fluctuation–breathing on her own, alive and wet and full of want.

In a rare moment we come simultaneously, locked into each other, that strand connecting our eyes, the connection of cock to ass, he filling me and me open to all of it.

Living stems from two branches. One branch is the people, the art, the words and poetry, and the love we live for. The other branch is the bullshit we must go through to enable us to live for the other–work, bureaucracy, the assholes, traffic–the bullshit.

Well the bullshit side of my tree seems to be bearing an overabundance of shit fruit since the onset of 2011, nothing life crushing– just simple annoying costly bullshit. It’s all made me just an angsty bundle of nerves, in which there was only one cure. Cock.

Well, not just cock, but I wanted–no needed– to come at the hands of another. I needed the hands and mouth of a man devouring my cunt, I needed to devour some cock, I needed to just forget the bullshit branch of life for a few hours.

I get into this mood often, but do not always act on it–or at least not as much as I used to, but the feeling was too overwhelming for me to ignore.

There were drinks, there was an incredibly cooked meal–which lead to a whole lot of sucking and fucking. It is not always easy for me to let myself just go, to let someone I’ve only emailed and briefly met take me, to pass the threshold of letting go. To give over to orgasm at the hands of a stranger is not always something I can do. However; I came in with little expectations, just simply that if I felt a comfort enough to fuck this man I was going to do just that. I would let myself have this, let myself go, be free to cum at the hands of this man who means nothing to me other than the flesh, fingers and mouth that was going to make me come and I would reciprocate and treat his cock like it was the cock I really loved.

While rolling around this mans room, I could not help thinking about the men I actually have emotional connection to–while I attempt to make a connection with this guy, I am fully aware we are nothing but disconnected. I have to be disconnected to have sex like this and to allow myself to cum, and cum, and cum with a man I have no feeling for.

The sex was fun! I allowed myself have fun. I let him suck and lick my wet little pussy, his fingers filling and fucking me, I became lost as I bucked into his hand. As his fingers fucked me harder I could feel it happening, the creamy liquid dripping around his hand, into the crevices of my pussy and in between my ass cheeks. He certainly held some effective methods to make me cum, which I did all over his bed. I am not really squirter, really I’m not, at least not usually, especially with a near completely stranger.

That sort of cum makes me want to cry, it is a release of so much–particularly with the weeks I have been having. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t– I held back. It would have felt good, but the connection for such behavior was not there. I turned on my own emotion and became a slut, a whore. I devoured his cock with my mouth and with my pussy-I licked and swallowed his dick after he buried in my slit, tasting me off of him. I made him rock hard, bouncing on his cock like crazy, I let my emotion get stifled by cock.

His cock was fun to service though. Never before have I had the request to bite down.
“Bite? Really?”
“ Yes, bite,” he pleaded with a growl.
He liked to have his cock bitten. It was strange, but then I got into it. It definitely felt like I was biting into a sausage with a real tough skin, but hot damn it sure did make his cock solid and left me free to grasp and grab him with all my might, which I did. I like a dick I can grab onto firmly as edge him closer and closer to cumming. My mouth and hands slid all over his solid trunk, I filled my mouth with his balls, I let him feed me his cock, to choke me a little, to let my eyes water.  I sucked him off like the pro I can be.

We had a nice long romp, I informed him early on– I would need to cum three times before he did. I came four times. Throughout the romp I brought this man close to cumming several times, then backed off. Repeat. Being spent from all that orgasm release, laying to his side, I slid his cock into my mouth one last time–bringing him from soft to hard–it was time. I would not ride his cock again, I cannot be filled with cum and all of its potentiality so I wanted to stroke and suck him until I could watch his cum hit me in the face and onto my waiting tongue.

Perhaps it was all the edging, bringing him so close, but not ever over, that made his cum shoot straight past my eager slut tongue up to his chest, across his shoulder and to pillow behind his head.

With the cum splatter, it was all over. Dipping my finger into a little pool of cum, I tasted him, then rose to dress. As I walked down his stairway towards my car, I never looked back. I felt like a hooker that didn’t get paid. Disconnected.