We aren’t supposed to be here. I could be humiliated. I could be fired. I could lose everything, if someone were to walk through that door and discover what we are doing. Completely naked: your ivory legs opened wide; my blackness coated in shining sweat. Our trespassing is a misdemeanor. Us fucking here is a felony. The slight possibility of getting caught is vastly multiplied by the sounds of your moans and grunts increasing in volume. God forbid anyone’s within earshot.
Drunken by sex, blinded by unplugging every possible lamp, I reach out and pat the ground. Searching for some article of clothing. Searching for something I wouldn’t mind drenching in saliva. Upon discovery, I ball up my tank top, pry your jaws open and cram the fabric into your whimpering mouth. You are ignited.
The closing of one door, opened many others.
Without the restraint to stay quiet,
Your sexuality was turned up to full volume.
Licking light circles around your nipple makes your voice buzz through the cotton. Pulling a tight fistful of hair fills your throat with electricity. Dragging you from the desktop to the floor fills the room with a quiet, muffled whistle. Something about the sounds coming through that shirt arouses me so deeply. The gag strips your voice down to its bare vibration.
Turning you over, your back looks amazing in the darkness. I love the way the impact from my thrusts ripple through your skin, muscles and bones. Your muted, rhythmic yelps are silent music to my ears. I delve deeper, pound harder; just to hear what your filtered cries sound like.
Part sadist, part scientist,
I wanted to sample the frequency of your sobs…
The frequency of your bawling…
The frequency of your safe ignored…
|"Fragments" by Exterface|