1d
he's sitting in his desk chair
the comforting, quiet drone
filling the quiet of the early morning
the air was cool, albeit, carrying the faint scent
of stale coffee and sterile cleanliness
he didn't dislike his job.
this morning, however
was disrupted by a slow, almost languid pace
his stack of files remained stubbornly untouched,
his mind is captive to forbidden territories.
he pictured his little girl
in the soft light of her bedroom
the curve of her bare back as she stretched
a kittenish grace that belied
the sinful paths his thoughts were ravenously pursuing.
a jolt of
pure
illicit desire
shot through him
leaving a tight feeling in his groin, which was unwelcome and undeniable.
he imagines kneeling between her thighs
the warmth radiating from her flushed skin as she slowly awoke.
his fantasy plunged with a dizzying intensity
to the slick, swollen flesh
still damp with the essence of her own wet dreams.
the idea became vivid, tactile
an experience engaging all of his senses.
he imagined the delicate sounds she would make--
the soft mewls escalating into desperate whimpers
as his tongue relentlessly explored her most sensitive places.
the comforting, quiet drone
filling the quiet of the early morning
the air was cool, albeit, carrying the faint scent
of stale coffee and sterile cleanliness
he didn't dislike his job.
this morning, however
was disrupted by a slow, almost languid pace
his stack of files remained stubbornly untouched,
his mind is captive to forbidden territories.
he pictured his little girl
in the soft light of her bedroom
the curve of her bare back as she stretched
a kittenish grace that belied
the sinful paths his thoughts were ravenously pursuing.
a jolt of
pure
illicit desire
shot through him
leaving a tight feeling in his groin, which was unwelcome and undeniable.
he imagines kneeling between her thighs
the warmth radiating from her flushed skin as she slowly awoke.
his fantasy plunged with a dizzying intensity
to the slick, swollen flesh
still damp with the essence of her own wet dreams.
the idea became vivid, tactile
an experience engaging all of his senses.
he imagined the delicate sounds she would make--
the soft mewls escalating into desperate whimpers
as his tongue relentlessly explored her most sensitive places.
piece two
WHERE ANGELS FALL.
piece : SWEET TREAT
(this is my work, based on a coarse and heavy hearted narrative i wrote. based on true events ! ha.. haha...)
[it's also why the dude in my banner photo is sitting in the gothic cathedral. you're welcome for that visual.]
--- EXCERPT FROM : SWEET TREAT
The imagined scent of her arousal intensified, a potent and intoxicating aroma– a cloying sweetness underscored by a sharp, almost animalistic tang, filling his senses so completely he almost believed he could smell it in the sterile office air.
In his mind, it was the very essence of his precious girl's yielding, a blend of milk and honey, thick with a forbidden ripeness. He could almost feel the shuddering anticipation building within her, the subtle tremors in her thighs as she neared the edge, the quickening of her imagined breath.
He’d tease her gently with his tongue, circling the most sensitive spot, drawing out her pleasure, making his little love whine and beg for release. "C'mon, Angel," he'd think, a cruel tenderness in his imagined gaze.
His groin began to stir against the confines of his cotton boxers, a wet patch soaking the front. "Just for Daddy."
Then, the imagined her ******. He could almost feel the violent clench of her muscles around his imagined tongue, the hot, thick liquid flooding his mouth as her head thrashed against the pillows, her eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated surrender.
"Oh, you like that, don't you, little girl ?" he'd silently gloat, watching his precious Angel's imagined face contort in the throes of pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the sounds echoing in the quiet office. “This is our little secret, hmm ?” The pressure in his slacks intensified, becoming undeniably present.
A fierce wave of arousal crashed over him. His breath hitched, and a physical manifestation of his mental indulgence. His breath hitched, and a flush crept up his neck, the heat spreading down his chest.
Beneath the smooth fabric of his slacks, his bulge hardened with a stubborn insistence, straining against the fabric, a blatant and inappropriate presence in the professional setting.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the growing ******* a stark and shameful counterpoint to the sterile office environment.
A wave of self-loathing washed over him, a bitter counterpoint to the lingering warmth of his fantasy. This is wrong. The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts. This is wrong. Utterly wrong.
The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts, a physical betrayal of his vows.
With a frustrated sigh, Yunho glanced around the quiet office. The early morning light offered a cloak of privacy. Shamelessly, his hand dropped beneath the edge of his desk, the rough fabric of his trousers doing little to quell the insistent pressure. He palmed himself, the motion urgent and fueled by a potent mix of lust—
The shrill ring of his desk phone cut through the silence, the sudden intrusion shattering the fragile walls of his fantasy.
WHERE ANGELS FALL.
piece : SWEET TREAT
(this is my work, based on a coarse and heavy hearted narrative i wrote. based on true events ! ha.. haha...)
[it's also why the dude in my banner photo is sitting in the gothic cathedral. you're welcome for that visual.]
--- EXCERPT FROM : SWEET TREAT
The imagined scent of her arousal intensified, a potent and intoxicating aroma– a cloying sweetness underscored by a sharp, almost animalistic tang, filling his senses so completely he almost believed he could smell it in the sterile office air.
In his mind, it was the very essence of his precious girl's yielding, a blend of milk and honey, thick with a forbidden ripeness. He could almost feel the shuddering anticipation building within her, the subtle tremors in her thighs as she neared the edge, the quickening of her imagined breath.
He’d tease her gently with his tongue, circling the most sensitive spot, drawing out her pleasure, making his little love whine and beg for release. "C'mon, Angel," he'd think, a cruel tenderness in his imagined gaze.
His groin began to stir against the confines of his cotton boxers, a wet patch soaking the front. "Just for Daddy."
Then, the imagined her ******. He could almost feel the violent clench of her muscles around his imagined tongue, the hot, thick liquid flooding his mouth as her head thrashed against the pillows, her eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated surrender.
"Oh, you like that, don't you, little girl ?" he'd silently gloat, watching his precious Angel's imagined face contort in the throes of pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the sounds echoing in the quiet office. “This is our little secret, hmm ?” The pressure in his slacks intensified, becoming undeniably present.
A fierce wave of arousal crashed over him. His breath hitched, and a physical manifestation of his mental indulgence. His breath hitched, and a flush crept up his neck, the heat spreading down his chest.
Beneath the smooth fabric of his slacks, his bulge hardened with a stubborn insistence, straining against the fabric, a blatant and inappropriate presence in the professional setting.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the growing ******* a stark and shameful counterpoint to the sterile office environment.
A wave of self-loathing washed over him, a bitter counterpoint to the lingering warmth of his fantasy. This is wrong. The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts. This is wrong. Utterly wrong.
The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts, a physical betrayal of his vows.
With a frustrated sigh, Yunho glanced around the quiet office. The early morning light offered a cloak of privacy. Shamelessly, his hand dropped beneath the edge of his desk, the rough fabric of his trousers doing little to quell the insistent pressure. He palmed himself, the motion urgent and fueled by a potent mix of lust—
The shrill ring of his desk phone cut through the silence, the sudden intrusion shattering the fragile walls of his fantasy.
