You wrestled the orgasms out of me like fighting titans and now I remain utterly powerless within my frame of flesh. Knocked down eighty-five notches and totally without complaint, mind or reason. I've been fucked to the point of loss of self.
Damn, it feels good to be alive.
|The hours before twilight are the best for their dying rays.|
This is worth going to hell for, answering to your morals for and making excuses for. Make your arguments to your piety and your morality and your salvation but this is the moments we all look for. A moment when you cease to exist in any of the pain or doubt of your life, your body, or your intelligence. My flesh does not feel compromised by this invasion but it completely reborn from it.
You stroked me. You licked me. You grabbed me. You invaded me. You bit me. You slapped me.
You erased me, even if just for a few post-coital moments.
I can feel every hollow, valley, and joint in my body; they all are asleep and only my brain gently lolls around in my skull. I am tired, sexed out and done for the night.
Your cock was so hard as it drove into me and even if it wasn't like the fairy tale love stories, I relive it to find my body quaking with the passion of it. My hand can feel the texture of your hard cock slipping into my warm, wet slit. My lips are sore for taking you there too, my throat as well and I will smile to myself when I awake in the morning to still feel that ache from taking you so deeply.
This is for now but not for always. I'm ok. I'm glad. I'm happy. I'm elated