Often my written words articulate my passion for rough sex, dominance, and submission, the beautiful aspects of the feminine form, or just my role in life.
Yanking a woman by her hair, tossing her down, pinning her down by the neck while I finger her pussy from barely wet to Schlitterbahn status.
Face-planted into her sweet wet garden of nerve endings, staring up into her eyes and seeing her facial expressions change as I rock her with one more orgasm. Giving my all so I can make her body physically wiped out from the endorphin rush I released inside her.
But sometimes, I just want to be one with you.
Foreplay is not needed.
I just need be inside you.
To kiss you, look into your eyes, and slowly push myself into you, speaking to you with an intimate language only we speak.
It’s not about the orgasms. It’s not about pushing our limits or anything like that.
It’s about Love.
It’s about passion.
It’s about our bond.
It’s about telling you, with who I am, that I would not rather be anywhere else in the world but filling you up.
My hardness in your softness.
Staring right into you as I slide back and forth. Knowing you need this just as bad as I, and seeing in your eyes your deep emotional fulfillment.
Also published on Medium.