Tuesday, September 9, 2008


The pillow still holds the shape of my face. My face holding the weight of my body. My face pressed against the pillow without the aid of my arms to take the pressure. Arms held by you, hands held by you, unable to keep the shape of my face from being left in the pillow.

The bed still holds the shape of my knees. Knees bent holding the weight of my body. My ass in the air waiting for you. Your gaze heavy on my back, tracing the curves of my hips, following the line of my spine down to where I am open for you. Waiting. Exposed and wet for your touch.

Your fingers were not soft. Nothing tender or gentle about you. Reaching to find where I was hiding from you. Plunging deep and claiming me as yours. The sound of the wetness against your fingers as you teased my pussy. Lapping at my clit, your tongue rough and possessive.

Your cock dancing before my lips. Just out of reach of my tongue. You were not mine. The sheen of the drop of cum teasing me from the tip. Not mine to taste. Wasted on my cheek. Your hand on your cock, where my hand should be. The hardness I can't feel, the firmness I can't touch. Not mine to feel.

The coldness of the lube dripping past my ass. The shiver that ran through my body not from fear or cold. The pressure of the plug as you slowly slid it in. Full, but not full by you. Tortured by you, because of you, wanting you. The need to feel the warmth of you, the depth of you.

Your head tipped back and your hand stroking your cock you watch. My pussy dripping wet. Wanting to feel you inside. Needing to have you touch me. Your other hand on my clit, rubbing faster in time with your pleasure. My eyes pleading for my own release.

You groan. Ribbons of cum spread out across my back. I feel the warmth settle into my skin. Your fingers stop. The plug comes out. You stand up and walk away.

I roll over, on edge, needing to cum. Needing to scream. Needing to release. I hold it. Just as the pillow holds the shape of my face.