Short story

She nestled in,  
Nose pressed to my shirt,  
 
Breathed me in  
Like petrichor,  
Or the faint salt-smell  
Of the Yeosu sea  
Rolling beside us;  
 
Pillow talk  
Turned to  
Cuffs and collars;  
She softly professed  
Her longing to feel  
Sticky leather and  
Cold metal  
Amplifying her experiences  
Under my care,  
Her figure fettered,  
At the mercy of  
My free fingers and  
Carnal caress;  
 
We laid silent a while,  
Her nose now at my neck  
 
Her gentle kisses began;  
I felt a tremor within her,  
The desire to ravish me  
Constrained, just,  
By the longing for  
An agelong night,  
Hours of  
A ceaseless ebb and flow  
Of pleasures given  
And pleasures received  
 
She rose,  
Elegantly lifting off her shirt  
And leaning to lay her breast  
Soft upon my lips;  
Her nipple firmly aroused,  
She whispered:  
‘Bite me.’  
My mouth opened to inhale her  
And I gently teased her  
With a sloppy suckling kiss;  
Her arm ran beneath my head  
While she let me continue a minute  
Before repeating herself:  
‘Bite my nipples.’  
 
I cautiously obeyed,  
My teeth in place,  
Slowly sinking in to her tender point;  
She had straddled me,  
I felt her rubbing against me,  
Growing more vigorous  
The longer she occupied my mouth;  
She lifted my head,  
My senses happily smothered  
By her tender breast:  
‘Bite my nipples,’  
She insisted,  
Drowning me in the a wave of elation  
 
I bit a bit harder,  
And then I bit harder;  
She suppressed a cry  
With a giggle  
And I stretched for her  
Untouched breast,  
Which she eagerly pressed to my lips  
And I bit,  
Harder;  
 
She cried out,  
A commingled cry,  
Pain and pleasure,  
And as I resumed my  
Gentle kisses,  
I realized her body had stilled;  
I reluctantly opened my mouth  
And she withdrew her breast  
To lean down upon me;  
 
She breathed heavily;  
My hands formed  
To the small of her back;  
She gave a sudden shiver  
And I heard her cheery voice:  
‘That was great…’  
 
She had come;  
 
I turned to look at  
The red numbers  
On the analog:  
11:22  
 
She mewed innocently,  
‘Tired already?’  
I playfully smacked her rear,  
Tugging at the last  
Little bit of cover she had;  
She smiled,  
Sweetly stroking my cheek:  
‘What next?’