5:51 p.m. :: 2002-05-01
vicious teeth, bruised thighs

the aftermath of sex is this:

every time i glance down at my bare thighs, whether in the shower or on the toilet or while climbing out of bed in the morning, i see the bruises left there by her wonderfully vicious teeth. it draws up the memory of her roaming mouth, which drew from me such writhing, yelping ecstasy as to make me come rather too soon, but so sweetly that how could i complain? her deliciously rounded body called out to my fingers and teeth and tongue until she pleaded with me to fuck her, drawing my hand to her wet cunt and fiery clit and crying out continually for more, more, harder, could you add another finger? until finally i was fucking her so hard my arm ached and she came, back arched mouth open screaming wordless noises that meant nothing to anyone but her or i or any creature which understands the burning for another to coax such sounds out of it.

all of these things flash through my mind as my hands brush across my warm thighs, bruised purple by her wicked, smiling mouth.

~foxchild

spent :: fresh

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