When Thoughts Are Dark

My thoughts are dark often...

 An ornament adorning your neck with my long legs enhaling your tounges in epileptic fits of rage.

This room is a carousel slowly spinning the haunting beat of our moans periodically amusing the silence.

We are never cautious barreling into eachother over and over;
frothing over the fullness of your torment in my throat.

My want for you dripping from your grin, pulse of the beast trembling my skin.

Pain and pleasure are advesaries in our bed,
those hands picking up where your lips left off.
 The feel of hardness pressed too dripping lips.

"Please daddy!" Pertruding my hips into this,
 swaying into the need to cum to your terms.

"You want this little girl?" His eyes terrorizing me the growl in his voice unraveling my patience.
 
His tip indulging in the throb of my pleading.
"Mmm... please!!!"

He growls his strong talented hand grips my throat...
"Be good little girl!"

I am gasping for breath, tormented by an ache only he has brought.

The convulsions soak him in his reward.

I love the feel of him throbbing against me as much as he adores the way my body reacts to him.

He growls against my ear;
 hand tightening around my throat as he fills me.
My hips easing into the hard rage of need.

He lets the grip on my throat loose to grip my hips holding them in place to play with my walls with his veins.

"Fuck baby!" I moan
"harder"

His growls barrel through my body giving me what I ask.

I am a mess drenched in my pleasure embracing my place...


He is a tattoo permanently drawn to my soul,
 I am destined to take him till death, filling myself with the pain he cohearses in these sheets,
in this bed.

I am spent,
 he is evil continuing to fuck me to coma and back to life again.

I love the taste of my thoughts when they're dark,
when they're him,
when my body pleasures his hardness, when his pleasure makes me beg too be spent...

When I come back to the knowledge that no one else will ever touch me or feel me again I am content with the mind, the cage, the savor of your hands...

The fever that catches the breath gasping my lips..