It's the relentless heat of another summer night turned midwestern autumn, the leaves turned red as the blindfold across her eyes, dark tendrils of matted black pooling down, clinging to the cheeks of her heart-shaped face. Satin and strong. Crash back down to Earth, my perfection.
My Goddess.
Shibari and ropework, over her shoulders, lightly worked over her twice across her breasts, a light harnessing effect, and more rope wrapped six times over her elbows and the two tied to connect. And then there is her wrists, to the mid-forearm, wrapped up, and then tied over. Ankles the same way.
Her painted toes curl, phantom sensations stroking the soles of her feet. Her skin is perfectly tanned, and it's a livewire right now, as we speak. Everything is still there. So raw. So overwhelming. The clattering of wine bottles and the sloppy kisses and the dark promises and the heavy patting and we breathed the same air, and she coaxed strength from me, and she knelt in its presence, this animal thing. And now, as she glows, as she radiates, as she draws breath in after the aftermath, after my wanton needy paraphilia, after I got her to sing and laugh and give me what I want, what I truly want, all of her, her cum, by those careful strokes, from those lapping tickles, there she is.
Her. All of her. Too bright for my eyes. No. A Siren. And I miss her. Every day, I miss her. And I shouldn't say it, because the saying goes that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it doesn't. It just makes me search. It just makes me reach and reach and it's just out of there. Out of control. And she knows how little I like being out of control. And I'm foolish. And I'm selfish. I can't stand it! I'm going fucking mad!
You dominate my thoughts and my well wishes.
And she looks up, from beneath me, and I ask her if she's okay, and she says don't make her beg, please don't make her beg. Or maybe that's me. Locked in step. Blasted by heat. I can't control it. The marathon never ends. Come waste your time with me. The ropes leave little depressions across her skin and I want to feel her close. Get over here. Breathe life into me. The romance and the ache and the need. The whimsy little flirt.
“I'll suck the polish off your toes.”
Dark promises, again.
I will be whatever you want, do whatever you say. Your power is too final, too absolute. I feel your distance when you are gone and it fills me with apprehension and an emptiness and solitude.
When I draw the blindfold from your eyes, do you see the tears in mine? Before I kiss you? Before my lips touch against yours and we stay, until they've become swollen? Do you feel my strength as I hug you, like I haven't ever before, like I haven't seen you in years? Our fingers lace together so well. And I push you back against the cushions, and there is a different feeling, as I take you, and your ankles lock as your legs wrap around me. Eyes glazing over. This isn't play, and this isn't dark promises, and this isn't need so heavy that you grab hold and go for the ride. No. I want you to feel this. All of it. Through every part of you. Every bit of my pulse. Every heartbeat. I want it to resonate unfathomably deep. My hands aren't bracing you against the couch. They're cupping your cheeks. Another kiss, and this one, it will never end. This moment never will.
Do you feel it?
You may be what pumps the blood through my heart, but that heart belongs only ever to you.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3xee1a/my_kajira_mf
Mm. Lovely.