the fight
When you make me cum that way, I fight it. You tell me to let it go, but I keep fighting.
I don’t like coming that way. It makes me too vulnerable, so I hold it in. It’s not yours, it’s not even mine. I have this notion I am saving it for someone, for the next man I love, for that man who turns my world inside out, who makes me want to go on a crime spree. You know that man who I want to stay up all night with drinking scotch, smoking cigarettes–even though I quit–drawing nude pictures of me sprawled on my couch–then switching, taking my turn–in between romantic passionate raw fuck romps, that’s the man– I want him to make me cum like this.
Oh, but you. You had to go and do it, you had to take it from me because I was unwilling to let it go. You had to draw it out, pull it out. Your fingers deeply buried, C shape hitting my G shape, that ache, that quiver. My body in a pained numbing, but full of come sexual energy. When you hit me there it instantly feels as though I may soak. I tell you no, tell you to stop, I beg, beg and beg. My hips raising off the fuck sweat soaked, sex smeared mattress. More than raise, they lift my lower body attempts to consume you, I am balancing on my shoulders and neck, begging you to stop. Tears begin to stream down my face as I feel the orgasm begin to build being pulled, extracted from my inside. My mind strains to bring it back in, your fingers keep working, and though my mind is working one way in opposition, my body still arches to meet yours. The pressure you hit, that sweet spot that few men hit, I can’t see–everything has become static and tears.
I come in a wild bucking explosion, and let loose with a full on cry. I am crying, I never let anyone see me cry. My eyes and pussy are equally wet, my cunt controls. I come so hard my body is a tingling mass of flesh, my thighs spasm out of control, my pussy jerks hard from the core out. This is not my body. I am exhausted from my fight, I sleep. I sleep and I sleep. When I wake up you have been gone for hours, I realize over six hours has passed and part of me is gone, just like you are.
Finally posting about Chicago or more fun already since you’ve been back?
On the morrow,
may you be someone’s Feast;
may your glaze cover their drumstick…
May your dessert be sweet!
Let it go.
Let it go because when you do find that someone special and you do cum that way, this instance (and any others) will pale in comparison. You’re trying to save yourself for someone special and that’s incredibly romantic. Indeed I find it to be tremendously sexy. However, only when you find that guy will both mind and body sing at once… And there will be no comparison Vixen, I assure you.
Let it go.
“My eyes and pussy are equally wet, my cunt controls.”
There is something intrinsically beautiful about cumming so hard you cry. I know that feeling and it does make you feel vulnerable but at the same time it’s a simultaneous emotional release. I’m usually completely spent if I’m crying after sex!
Paul: thanks for dropping by.
IHS: thank you love.
Woeful: hmmm? thank you for the thought you put into your comment. I read it many times and I will try. I promise.
blackpearl: I was so spent, I slept for hours and hours.
This…this full release, this complete abandonment of yourself, is something I can only aspire to with any partner. You are so guarded and controlled with respect to your emotions usually (although freer with respect to your body and its hungers) that to read of an experience that affected you in this manner is incredibly powerful.
I am tempted to say “don’t fight it, let go”, but I think that you would get a perverse sort of pleasure in battling against it for as long as you can, and then falling with a shriek. More power to you.
Thanks as always for sharing yourself with us.
– PB
Oh yeah but what a fight, and a good one to lose