You're so small and helpless. I know how hard you try to conceal your eagerness, but it's not going to work. Not with me.
As I wrap my fingers tightly around your neck, you press your legs together.
Do you have something you're hiding from me? I yank your legs even further apart, loosening my tie as you part your lips slightly, emitting a small mewl as you bend your knees.
I grab a fistful of your hair with one hand and use the other to yank down your underwear, and all throughout this, you've maintained your composure quite well.
I'm impressed... but, well, not that impressed. You'll be easy to crack.
All it takes is a few tiny gestures... small movements.
Something simple can drive you so crazy, mm?
I trace my fingers in little circles, just above your core, getting just low enough so that I'm almost brushing over your clit. Almost.
I'm only satisfied when I notice the impatience growing on your face.
You seem surprised as I drag you across the bed, towards the edge, and grab your wrists, using my tie to bound them together.
You seem even more surprised as I suddenly begin to rub my fingers along your slit.
Is it moving too quickly for you? Are your thoughts in a blur?
My fingers aren't stopping, sweetheart, and, oh-
3 are already inside you now.
It doesn't seem like you're handling it very well at all, I can feel your pussy constricting desperately around my digits, but guess what?
I'm not going to stop.
You're rocking your hips against my hand, but that isn't doing much for you, obviously, because I can practically see that adrenaline building up inside of you.
I can see your frustration in the flush of your cheeks.
You'll cum when I decide.
As I hook my fingers inside of you, dramatically speeding up my pace, I can see you believing you're almost there.
"Yes, yes, yes, that's the spot, faster, faster--"
Then, my fingers are gone.
I hear you mutter "fuck" underneath your breath, and that pulls a chuckle out of me.
Where's your composure now?
One finger slides inside of you once again, much slower than before. Your eagerness is still at its peak now, but you can't reach your high this way, honey. I curl and uncurl my finger, adding another, and another, and you moan in satisfaction.
You can't even rock your hips once I've held them down, and my spontaneous fluctuation in pace can only leave you wondering when you'll finally be relieved.
I rub my thumb in circles around your clit, once again rotating my fingers inside of you, and you're just about a mess at this point.
You're screaming, whimpering, pleading me to have some mercy on you. Your voice fills the room to the brim.
I only increase my pace thereafter, and your voice gets caught in your throat,
is it washing through you now?
reading your dirty text
like love letters
the words take over me
with a vendetta
of turning me on
like your body
every line gets better
picturing you in my mind
as I'm reading every line
using my fingers skillfully to reply
wishing it your body I was touching on the whole time
sext: i can still smell your sweat on my pillow. my blankets tangle around me but they should be your legs. come back.
sext: when people have near death experiences, in those minutes before doctors bring them back to life, i imagine they hear your voice. i wonder if you’re why they think they found god.
sext: you’re still in my dreams but my roommate is worried because i sleep all day, all night, all weekend. i cannot escape the only plane where we both still exist together.
i. Everyone’s hungry for the world. Except for me. I’m hungry for the feeling of your hands pressing down on my thighs, and the sound of your tongue whispering “love, love, we are love” into my empty mouth.
ii. Your heart is leaking on me, and I know you are ashamed. This is what I love the most; you pouring yourself all over me. I wish you knew of your own magnificence.
iii. Every time you are close, I wonder if I am dreaming. Every time you dig your teeth into my skin, I know I am not. We are alive, and we are breaking each other open.
sext: there’s not enough coffee in the world to replace the feeling you gave me.
sext: by the time you read this, i’ll be too drunk to respond, but you probably won’t text me back anyway.
sext: while i was driving last night, i tried a cigarette to remember how you taste. it burned my lips and i spent the rest of the car ride trying to get the smoke out of my mouth.
sext: all i’m ever trying to say is that it fucking sucks to feel this way.
I often wish you met me first.
If only we met before
they gave you promises of desire
they were never sure they'd keep,
before they used you
to fill their boredom in between.
I wish there was a way you'd
let yourself love me,
or try to.
I want to give you
anything and everything
you could ask for.
But you only strip off the parts
that you feel can't hurt you.
I can only guess that
the part of you that wants me too
is the same part that doesn't want to
lose yourself in someone else like them.
I just wish you met me first.