A view from below

I don’t know her name.  I know the first letter of her name.  And I know the last letter.

I know that she’s young, 24.  I know only a few bare-bones details about her life.  We rarely talk about anything other than one another’s bodies, about the things we want to do to one another.  She briefly flew too close to reality, admitting that, were I to pass through her town, she wouldn’t fuck me.  This devastated me.

We’ve recovered nicely.  I told her she needed to take it back, that the only reality I can accept is one in which we would fuck.  So now we mostly stay away from that topic.  My arousal can’t withstand the knowledge that it’s not affixed to a genuinely willing object.  (See here for how that feels to me.)

I love this view.  I love just writing, typing, watching the letters appear on the screen directly beneath her spread legs, beneath her panties, her cunt, her nipples poking through her shirt, her hair resting on her breasts.  I want to touch those thighs, to spread them further.  To smell her pussy through the panties, to press my hand, my face against them, to pull them to the side.  To taste her, to feel the hair of her unshaven pussy against my face, to plunge a finger, two fingers, three fingers into her.  To press my thumb into her ass as I lick, suck, kiss, to pull her by her ass harder, onto my face.

I want to bite her thighs, hard. They’re not small, but they’re wondrous.  I’ve seen them in dozens of pictures, and not a few movies, too.  They would absorb my teeth so well.  They almost beg for teethmarks in them, for little indentations, bruises.  Even as my hands snake up, under her shirt, to find her breasts, to pinch, squeeze, her nipples.  I want to push her head back, down on the pillow as I press against her, as I press down on her, my chest on hers, my weight pinning her down, straining her breath.

I want to slide my cock past her panties – pulled to the side? ripped off? – and into her waiting cunt, sopping wet from enthusiasm.  I want to pull her shoulders, her body, down onto my cock as I thrust it deep into her.  To ride her, hard, to turn her over, and use her ass as I used her cunt before.  I want to taste every inch of her, to mark her – with my hands, with a pen.  I want to own her flesh, at least for this afternoon.

To decorate her body – with my cum, with bruises rained down in affection and desire, with a Sharpie – black, I think, would be best for her pale skin.  To use her til she’s done, til she can’t cum again, til she begs for a break.  Til her jaw aches, her pussy’s raw, her thighs are sore and her ass burns.

Then, I want to do it all over again.


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