Souse (In Progress)

Apr. 23rd, 2008 at 1:03 AM

She had been at it again, stuffing my cunt with each of her fingers the night before. She left my cunt bruised and aching the day after. Still, greedy little bitch that it was, it wanted more of her. It always wanted more of her, a trick of fate I could not yet determine was because of my need for her, or because of my fascination with her. She was the matchstick flare to my candle's withered wick and I was only too glad to ignite and illuminate for her. She could leave me spent, dry cold smoke coiling from me on her bedside table night after night for all I cared, just so long as the next night she took her furious flames to me again. Hell, she could burn me at both ends and I'd sigh for her just the same, melting into hot pools that would stain satin sheets and send sprinklings of goose flesh over soft skin. And the impact of each sinking fingertip inside me left its indelible marks within my mind scrawled in red glowing ink on the backs of my fluttering eyelids, "More." I always wanted more, I always wanted it deeper and harder and faster. Or maybe I wanted more of her kiss, slow, languid, the way mist unfurls from the mouth of a champagne bottle when it's been de-corked quietly. And tonight, I wanted something specific from her again, not the taste of champagne or the feel of satin sheets ripping, no. I wanted something far more visceral than that. This time, I wanted her words. "Speak to me," I taunted her in a whisper over burdened with lust, crooking my finger under her jawline and drawing her lips closer to my ear. "You want me to speak to you?" she whispered back in the dark, my eyes half cloaked, all I could feel were her fingers inside me, I could smell her perfume. I moaned my affirmative softly, almost inaudibly, nodding my head against her lips. Violent, unmerciful words poured from her mouth in a tone I did not quite expect. And their nature, even more startling, set me on fire. The were so similar, so vaguely familiar to another time and place, one in which I did not feel aroused or safe as I did just then in her arms. Strange juxtaposition, the way I agreed with the sentiment of her words, how I welcomed them from her and was so repulsed by the same insinuations years earlier from a lesser foe. Too alarming, and too confusing, I turn my head away from her voice, when really I am aching to turn my lips to her hungry kiss. In moments, she has me close to coming, she is teasing me inside my sex, and I am panting for her. I want her to fuck me harder than this, in all the ways she just promised, the way she did last night: sliding all of her finger lengths out of me, making me delirious with how slow and sensually she did it, then fluidly but swiftly thrusting back inside of me to the hilt, fucking the back of my cunt just so. "Fuck me hard." I gasp against her, and she gloriously complies, making my legs shake and my cunt shiver. It is the feeling of her fingers sliding in and out of me that is driving me to that point past reason. I am lost, and the climax bursts upon me quicker than I realize, spiraling upwards in a way I can't quite understand, then dissipating just as suddenly. It affords me the release I was desperately needing, but its sensation is as confusing as the reaction brought on by her words. She asks me if I still want more, and for once I shake my head no, a smile spread across my face. For a while, we just lay there, uncharacteristically I am not jumping to the task of making her come in return right away. I am needing to come back to her from a place that is very far away. I am wandering out of this fog of disorientation, of dangerous nostalgia. I loose myself in the comfort of her embrace. She is soft and warm and I am all too at home with my face cradled to her breast, her chin resting near my forehead. I have gone lax, she has lulled me into some kind of peaceful calm near sleep and I could stay this way forever, blissfully content to be her aging Ripvanwinkle. But she stirs, and I mumble some question trying to see what she is after. "I just have to get off quickly," she whispers.

To Be Continued, I wave the white flag at sleep...