maybe someone will enjoy this. maybe not!
my eyes escape my book for a moment to glance across the couch, where they meet yours staring back. in your eyes i catch a look that i know well. it finds its mirror, its inverse, in mine, and the gravity between our glances draws you across the couch, on hands and knees, towards me.
the book falls from my hands, as i shrink from your advance, from that glimmer in your eyes and that hard, straight line of a smile on your face. my skin starts to buzz and crackle, and i put my arms out. you grab them and pull me towards you; i growl and pull, but your grip is irresistable. i cry out as i am ensnared, but you are quiet.
oh, i need to submit to you, to this, to what i know will become of me in your clutches, but i also need to know that i fought. however, i know, with a certainty as holy as faith, that i can never win a fight with you.
we wrestle on the couch, a cluster of limbs. the friction of your arms against mine makes my belly burn. i flail and shout and make noise, but you are silent and focused, and you handle me effortlessly. we teeter on the edge of the couch, and then fall.
the noise makes the impact seem more than it is. a dull ache spreads through my belly, warming my body. then i become aware of a weight on top of me, my arms twisted against my back, and then i know our fall was engineered. i grunt as i pull away, but your strong hands wrap my wrists and keep them captured, and my thighs burn wet and hot at the knowledge that i am caught.
as i feel the ropes lash around my wrists i start to curse, struggling under your beautifully solid weight. you have my wrists tied tight within minutes, and as you start to truss my elbows i begin to cry. my cheeks hot with tears, my voice cracks, and i start shouting, wordlessly, over and over again.
i yell until you grab the hair on top of my head and pull my head up, your hand pushing your balled-up socks into my mouth, and then staying there, over my lips, snug between my nose and chin like they were designed to accomodate you. the smell of you dances on my nostrils, the gentle strength of your warm palm covers my face like a blanket. i moan, into your socks, into your palm, by you. the moan comes from the same place the growl did, before, but now - finally - it is allowed to be a sound of submission.
i groan with want as your hand slides from my face. then your strong hands are on my shoulders, one wet with my tears, and you turn me over, onto my roped arms. i twist them under me, trying to find a comfortable position, but there is none, just the friction of rope against skin. you climb onto me as nervous excitement flutters through my tummy, teases itself into desire.
i look up at you with wet eyes. your face is so calm, so beautiful, those eyes of soft steel and that straight little smile still sitting on your lips. you just watch me as i squirm under your gaze and under the weight of your body, under those strong, rough hands that have wrestled me into submission.
and then those strong hands move down to the hem of my tank and gently, and so slowly, begin to slide my tank up and off. i wail into the wet mass in my mouth as my belly, then my lower chest, then my breasts appear from under my top, pale and white and bare and vulnerable. they roll with my staggered, nervous breath, trapped by your weight and beneath your gaze and beneath those hands. my panties get slick and tight as i think of those fingers digging hard into my soft, trapped flesh.
and then you do, you dig in deep, you make a handhold in my skin with those sharp, cruel fingers. i bite down on my gag as i scream, writhing on my tied arms but trapped beneath your body as your fingers work deep into barest and tenderest clefts. i try to kick my legs but you hook your feet around my knees, and i am pinned, here, beneath you, as the tickling sinks inescapably in.
you work my sides, up, and then down. you work me hard. i am the friction of your fingers against my skin, and the tickling is all i am conscious of, that and the real, steady weight of your body on mine. i'm screaming but i can't hear it. my vision has gone white; streaks of yellow cut across it, then waves of blue. your fingers are the ocean rolling over my belly, the tide.
a slap on the crotch of my panties and i jerk to awareness, cringing as i bite my gag. the wetness made the blow sting. your image shimmers in my wet eyes as i hold myself precariously upright on my bound arms to watch you. your belt is undone, and you push off your pants. between your legs, your lips are dark and wet, and i groan with longing. your strong fingers reach and pluck the socks from my mouth. i swallow, flex my jaw and lick my lips.
then you take me by the hair and guide me to you. as i strain to follow i struggle to climb onto my knees. my limbs burn from the tickling and the bondage and it hurts to move. finally i find my place between your thighs. i close my eyes as your scent fills my nostrils, your hips lifting and your skin soft and warm on my cheeks. i moan as i put my mouth to you, my lips sliding against your wet labia. then i extend my tongue and search out your clit.
i find it tense and wet and attach myself to it, lapping desperately and hungrily, your fingers curling tight in my hair. then i slow, focusing my efforts, finding a rhythm. soon your hips match it, then your throat, a low steady moan that remind me what you sound like. it is the most beautiful thing i've ever heard. i want to worship it, to grow it, and i keep licking until it becomes longer, deeper. i keep licking until your fist grows tight in my hair and your muscles tense around me, then relax. i sigh into you, nuzzling weakly.
then you push your hand down into my panties and sink your teeth into my neck and i am rocking, thundering wet within moments, and the last of my strength leaves my body.
soon we are curled up on the couch, damp clothes cast off in a pile, your fingertips tracing the rope-marks on my wrists. i turn my sleepy eyes up towards you, and i see your straight smile blossom into a grin.
my eyes escape my book for a moment to glance across the couch, where they meet yours staring back. in your eyes i catch a look that i know well. it finds its mirror, its inverse, in mine, and the gravity between our glances draws you across the couch, on hands and knees, towards me.
the book falls from my hands, as i shrink from your advance, from that glimmer in your eyes and that hard, straight line of a smile on your face. my skin starts to buzz and crackle, and i put my arms out. you grab them and pull me towards you; i growl and pull, but your grip is irresistable. i cry out as i am ensnared, but you are quiet.
oh, i need to submit to you, to this, to what i know will become of me in your clutches, but i also need to know that i fought. however, i know, with a certainty as holy as faith, that i can never win a fight with you.
we wrestle on the couch, a cluster of limbs. the friction of your arms against mine makes my belly burn. i flail and shout and make noise, but you are silent and focused, and you handle me effortlessly. we teeter on the edge of the couch, and then fall.
the noise makes the impact seem more than it is. a dull ache spreads through my belly, warming my body. then i become aware of a weight on top of me, my arms twisted against my back, and then i know our fall was engineered. i grunt as i pull away, but your strong hands wrap my wrists and keep them captured, and my thighs burn wet and hot at the knowledge that i am caught.
as i feel the ropes lash around my wrists i start to curse, struggling under your beautifully solid weight. you have my wrists tied tight within minutes, and as you start to truss my elbows i begin to cry. my cheeks hot with tears, my voice cracks, and i start shouting, wordlessly, over and over again.
i yell until you grab the hair on top of my head and pull my head up, your hand pushing your balled-up socks into my mouth, and then staying there, over my lips, snug between my nose and chin like they were designed to accomodate you. the smell of you dances on my nostrils, the gentle strength of your warm palm covers my face like a blanket. i moan, into your socks, into your palm, by you. the moan comes from the same place the growl did, before, but now - finally - it is allowed to be a sound of submission.
i groan with want as your hand slides from my face. then your strong hands are on my shoulders, one wet with my tears, and you turn me over, onto my roped arms. i twist them under me, trying to find a comfortable position, but there is none, just the friction of rope against skin. you climb onto me as nervous excitement flutters through my tummy, teases itself into desire.
i look up at you with wet eyes. your face is so calm, so beautiful, those eyes of soft steel and that straight little smile still sitting on your lips. you just watch me as i squirm under your gaze and under the weight of your body, under those strong, rough hands that have wrestled me into submission.
and then those strong hands move down to the hem of my tank and gently, and so slowly, begin to slide my tank up and off. i wail into the wet mass in my mouth as my belly, then my lower chest, then my breasts appear from under my top, pale and white and bare and vulnerable. they roll with my staggered, nervous breath, trapped by your weight and beneath your gaze and beneath those hands. my panties get slick and tight as i think of those fingers digging hard into my soft, trapped flesh.
and then you do, you dig in deep, you make a handhold in my skin with those sharp, cruel fingers. i bite down on my gag as i scream, writhing on my tied arms but trapped beneath your body as your fingers work deep into barest and tenderest clefts. i try to kick my legs but you hook your feet around my knees, and i am pinned, here, beneath you, as the tickling sinks inescapably in.
you work my sides, up, and then down. you work me hard. i am the friction of your fingers against my skin, and the tickling is all i am conscious of, that and the real, steady weight of your body on mine. i'm screaming but i can't hear it. my vision has gone white; streaks of yellow cut across it, then waves of blue. your fingers are the ocean rolling over my belly, the tide.
a slap on the crotch of my panties and i jerk to awareness, cringing as i bite my gag. the wetness made the blow sting. your image shimmers in my wet eyes as i hold myself precariously upright on my bound arms to watch you. your belt is undone, and you push off your pants. between your legs, your lips are dark and wet, and i groan with longing. your strong fingers reach and pluck the socks from my mouth. i swallow, flex my jaw and lick my lips.
then you take me by the hair and guide me to you. as i strain to follow i struggle to climb onto my knees. my limbs burn from the tickling and the bondage and it hurts to move. finally i find my place between your thighs. i close my eyes as your scent fills my nostrils, your hips lifting and your skin soft and warm on my cheeks. i moan as i put my mouth to you, my lips sliding against your wet labia. then i extend my tongue and search out your clit.
i find it tense and wet and attach myself to it, lapping desperately and hungrily, your fingers curling tight in my hair. then i slow, focusing my efforts, finding a rhythm. soon your hips match it, then your throat, a low steady moan that remind me what you sound like. it is the most beautiful thing i've ever heard. i want to worship it, to grow it, and i keep licking until it becomes longer, deeper. i keep licking until your fist grows tight in my hair and your muscles tense around me, then relax. i sigh into you, nuzzling weakly.
then you push your hand down into my panties and sink your teeth into my neck and i am rocking, thundering wet within moments, and the last of my strength leaves my body.
soon we are curled up on the couch, damp clothes cast off in a pile, your fingertips tracing the rope-marks on my wrists. i turn my sleepy eyes up towards you, and i see your straight smile blossom into a grin.
