Do you ever look at someone and think that she’s the most beautiful creature of our existence? That her orbit completely derailed you into the tension of her sweet lips? The urge to just want to know everything about her, and yet figure out what’s underneath the alcohol, the sexual tension, and her mommy issues. I met her at an art gallery, and the tension could be cut with a knife. Her glasses hid the darkness in her eyes, which hide the inner deep meaning of her soul. The teasers of her soul would be when she would entertain her vices. I for one loved the mess she was and wanted her anyway. She was a tomboy with such a great sense of style. That is what gravitated me most to her.
We knew each other through our friends in the galleries and followed each other on social media. She had beautiful black onyx hair, a broken demeanor, and these circular black glasses that if you looked closed enough, you can see the broken prospects you will feel for her. We approached each other amongst friends and I think we both knew. She stood up at my height and she wandered off to look at one of the pieces. Her eyes were inviting me to come closer; to feel her presence come into me. I follow her and we converse about the painting. She begins to smile brokenly and say.
“I love the way the sporadic movements of the paint remind me of the movements of rain. Wet and yet so quenched to the thirst. She began to bite her lip. I didn’t want to give in. So I decided to respond.
“Well, I think wet and sporadic movements bring up a thirst for an artist. You can see thirst with everything.” As I continue to talk, I circle around her touching the sides of her shoulder. I continue to speak.
“The thirst of an artist is a hunger-filled thirst of dichotomy.”
She begins to tremble a little bit as the drink in her hand is empty. I began to tell her that if she wanted to discuss more then to give me a ring. She gladly took my number and to my surprise, I got a text from her.
She drove me crazy. From the moment I met her, I knew she would only want me when she wasn’t in her right mind. She wanted to use me. The text she sent me was sending me her address. A pen house in Chelsea. As I took a cab to the city, I was greeted by an open door and her sprawled on the white couch, with a half-empty bottle of Whiskey, freshly opened. At this point, it was all clear. I walk to her and begin to sit right on top of her. I pretend to whisper in her ear and begin to bite the side of her ear. All I can hear is her heavy breathing. She is nervous; pensive. As I trail back to her face, I gently grab it and proceed to go into the kill. I kissed her with sheer intensity. As I began to tongue her, bite her lip, my nipples perched up and I began to get wet. It didn’t help I was wearing a sleek black dress with a mink fur coat. As I began to take off my coat, she flipped me over.
I was in trouble as she flipped me and began to feel up my dress. She felt my warm filled juices and met them for a drink. Her head disappears in my legs and I try to keep my composure. I squeeze my legs on her head and she pulls them apart. She licks my clit and it begins to intensify. My body was in shock as she knew she wanted me for dinner. I bring her back up and kiss her with my juices on her mouth. I make out with her and trail her body, licking her nipples. She’s over me, and her smell permeates of bad decisions and whiskey. I was willing to endure all of those risks. I get up from sucking her nipples and she proceeds to get something from her pants pocket. I get on top of her and she tells me…
“Open your mouth.” I open my mouth and she places a pill under my tongue as one is under hers. Assuming it’s drugs, I began to trail down her body, waiting for this experience to kick in. I finger her with 2 fingers and suck on her nipples. She moans in straight pleasure as the wetness of her pussy intensifies. I love the individual curves of her body. She is just surrendering to me and I am worshiping her white flag surrender. I choke her and come back up and lick from her mouth to her forehead. I pull the rope from my dress and tie her hands up and flip her over. I begin to eat her out from behind and she is screaming. I am alternating from tongue to fingers. Tongue to fingers; fingers to tongue. I am passionate about her pussy and I’m just navigating her spaces. Not even lovers from the past could grasp. She becomes more and more swollen as she is about to cum on my hands. I get ready for the release as I am fingering her pussy and licking the hood of her clit in circles. I look into her eyes and she squirts sweet waterfalls. If I were a canvas, she would have made a masterpiece on me; a watercolor hunger of magentas, blues, and butterflies. She is the weakness I crave; the kryptonite I want to consume to my end. I could get used to these texts, this desire for her. I am just wanting you more. I want you to want me to.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/poim1o/the_dichotomy_between_lovers_ff
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