Spring

He says…

“I’m still hungry”

as I’m about to walk out the door and his kisses hold me captive up against the wall whilst his tongue traces the groove of my watermelon hued lips as he closes the door, and carries me to the kitchen table.

I’m already tender & swollen from the hour we spent pleasuring one another since daybreak, a daily ritual that keeps us dreamily anchored & bound to one another, and I’m mesmerised by his ability to charter my tidal shifts.

The truth is, I can’t resist his rock hard notions as he proceeds to peel my peachy soft bare flesh open, noting his drowsily content state of being whilst gazing at the glisten that beckons him to determine whether he takes his time, or greedily takes me hard & deep until I’m gushing all over him.

Until my pulsating walls grip his autonomous thrust, and his need is matched by my want as I whisper

“fuck me harder until it hurts so good”

and he doesn’t know what that means until I’m grinding harder against the roll of his hips in the opposite direction, and we find our groove as we both watch the way he penetrates me, and I can’t help but think about the seasonal changes.

Gaped as pulsating raw honey slides upon the width & length of his devotion as he triggers an avalanche of little deaths until I’m incoherent as he whispers filth to me whilst drilling me balls deep, and I’m somewhat fascinated by the borderline ultraviolence he deploys to trigger his orgasm, until he fills me deeply.

And he proceeds to eat my creampie ever so gently whilst fingering the love notes hidden within my cascading flow, and he scribes his name upon my engorged clit until I find the calm in our storm, and straddle his pulsating devotion.

The words

“I’m late again”

escapes my lips as he hints at the probability of wasted sick days when I die, and I don’t need to be convinced any further as I’m destined to be ravished all day, and I dare say, into the twilight hours in between showers & naps.