she pushed me against the wall
i let her
she stared daggers directly into the soft gray matter behind my eyes
she snarled a lip up
put her fingernail against my throat and i felt her draw blood
the anger on her face doing things to me i couldn’t put into words
do you want to hit me
no
because you’re too much of a pussy to do it
because i was raised better
raised to be a walking vagina
i could do whatever i want to you and you would just take it
yes
what is it you want to do
hurt you
then do it
but that isn’t exactly it
is it
fuck you
that sounds more like truth
you’d let me
whatever i want to do to you
whatever you want to do to me
hurt me
you’d like that
maybe
maybe i would like how much you like it
maybe the thought of drawing my blood gets you soaked
it doesn’t
it does
dripping
your pupils have dialated
and you keep squeezing your legs together
especially after you drew blood
no
your breathing faster
that’s not it
i can’t stand you
can’t stand my tongue in my mouth and not inside you
tasting your teeth
no
tracing your nipples
they’re so hard
stop
i can see them poking through your bra
no
she slaps me
no
are you lying to me or yourself
i’m not lying
how about you lay back and spread those sexy legs for me
let me lick from your throat to your sweet wet little
slap again
no
stop
how did those words taste
bitter
kiss me and see how i taste
her hands went around my throat
tighter and tighter
do you want to taste something else i rasped little dots flickering at the edge of vision
a little lower maybe
i hate you so much
that wasn’t a no
she released a little and cool air went into hungry lungs
what do you want from me
everything
to lick you, to bite you, to make you scream
to fuck me
is that what you want
isn’t it what you want
i want you
any way you will let me have you
any way
every way
every way
yes
tell me what that means
it means my tongue over every inch of your body
tracing down your spine while my fingers pinch and probe and enter you
spread you open while my tongue buries itself in you from behind
you can lay on your back with your feet on my shoulders while i make you beg me to make you cum
writing poetry on your clit while my finger massages your g spot
until you lose the ability to speak
keep going
say please
please
i will tattoo my name across your trembling body and make you see divinity as your eyes roll back and your fingers dig into the back of my head
you will cry tears of unbridled joy when i finally allow you to cross the threshold of unholy pleasure
and you will beg me to take you
yes
yes what
all of it
everything
then kiss me
taste the blood on my lips
her hands never left my throat
and i don’t know if she was aware how tightly she squeezed as she kissed me
or how long she did
but i would leave every word i said as true
and i would turn her hatred into lust
her lust into need
and her need into something so explicitly exquisite
it would turn into love
if it wasn’t already
Bingo! You have done it!
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There’s something much deeper behind these words. I can see right into it. Like looking in a barrel of oil. At first you see slick, shiny black but the longer you look, you begin to see shapes and movement. Wait… are those my own eyes reflected back? Reaching in, my fingers dip deep, sliding smoothly. It’s warm and wet and it feels wonderful. Pushing deeper, I find myself tipping over and falling, headfirst covered, drenched, coated – slick lovely dark oil, I will happily drown here.
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i don’t normally write sexual themed pieces. or at least don’t share them. this really had nothing to do with the acts described but the driving force behind them. though, i mean, well, if you’re good at something you can share the recipe.
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Yes. That’s how I read it. Symbolism at its finest.
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Some of my erotica isn’t about sex at all but you gotta sometimes look deeper than just the black and white.
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exactly. sometimes a sheet of paper is an airplane waiting to be born. sometimes it is just pulped wood
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Haha! Yes! You get it!!
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Lol, yes. I’m feeling frisky.
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i don’t really write this way but the scene played out as i wrote and when it was done i hit publish before i could reconsider.
frisky in florida sounds like either a harlequin romance novel or some looking to an advice column for help.
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Hmmmm… I’m thinking neither of those, but you don’t know me well enough to come up with an apt metaphor
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*ahem* *fans self*
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is that good?
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🤪
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