My fear is palpable.
I want to explore your depths, but the mind behind you scares me.
I want to love the brain behind the beauty, but my tongue is too busy exploring your curves to make conversation.
Please excuse my frankness, when I say, I want to bury my face in your goodness, soak in every drop you expel, feel the depths of you, from the inside out.
I want to run my fingers along your spine, direct my attention to every so-called flaw you see and kiss it until you no longer see it as a blemish, but gritty perfection.
Stretch marks that I will glide my tongue along until you realize I’m in love,
with your every movement and imperfection.
The way your back arches and your cheeks flood with blood as my tongue approaches.
The way even though you’re not at full attention, I still see you, hiding out there under that hood,
And know it’s good.
That all I have to do is lick, suck, devour like it’s the sweetest candy I’ve ever tasted, telling you in the process.
Watching you squirm under my efforts,
Trying to hold back my own leaking parts from dripping in your face. Wanting every part of me inside your mouth. A part of you.
Blissing out, rocking against you, paper tiger, scissoring our way into each variation of your mouth on my lips and my lips on yours, and neither has anything to do with French kissing, though it certainly does feel French.
I just want you. I want to feel you slowly, carefully, artfully. Knowing what each direction will elicit when I stroke, touch, push, pound.
Your shape, irrelevant to the overall goal, which is to envelop you. Each vulva a unique specimen of glory, but yours, like a sculpture. Ready to be carved away with my tongue. Shaping the pieces of you with its trace. Knowing the places to go to make you go “ah”. An expert cartographer in you. Studying the map in front of me, as the only way out. Needing your juices to sustain my trip and really taking my time learning each route to go for each situation.
I want you in my pants as much as I’m in yours, but only because I long to feel every sensation together, as we shudder and cum in sync, our legs shaking in unison.
Can it just be this? Our bliss.
Forever?
Apparently, I have thoughts about desire. What does yours make you think about?
If you enjoyed this, restack it for someone who needs a little more honesty about desire, vulnerability, and the beautifully messy ways we experience both.
Leave a Reply