eros, logos: Pulse

Friday, June 09, 2006

Pulse

I'm angry with him. When he comes over I'm twitchy like a cat; I feel like sliding away under his hand when he goes to touch me. I don't feel like I'd claw him for trying to pet me, not that kind of cat, not yet anyway, but I want to be evasive, I want to be not present. I'm angry also because like that reluctant cat I rub myself against that hand anyway, before stalking away. I'm not moving away physically. I can't do that with him. I'm just moving away in my head. I want to withhold my self, and I do that not by not fucking but by not talking. This is a test too: do you notice, if I am present or absent? Do you notice when we talk whether I give you anything of myself, or am I only to reflect your own image back? It's surprising how many people fail that test; maybe that only means I am better at being solitary and a mirror than not.

On my couch he undoes my jeans and slides them partway down my hips. I can't open my thighs, and he slides his hand between them and inside my panties, holding his palm just over my pussy. I know he wants to feel the heat there. He teases me. I know he wants to make me squirm, to arch my back, to push into his palm. I think he wants to see it, to see me like that reluctant cat rub against his hand despite myself.
I do.

Like that cat i'm still wary. He holds me still, and pulls my panties aside, not down. His fingers just trace me, just open my labia. I lie still and don't breathe, I won't look at him. Only my cunt is answering him, this wetness and heat I don't control. It's like something breaks in me though and as his fingers find my clit I am unbuttoning him, unzipping, pulling his cock out. I don't want him undressed. I don't want to look at him either. I turn over, kneeling on the floor now, bending over. I rub his cock against me, showing him without saying where I want him: I want him on his knees on the floor behind me fucking me, my ass in the air and my arms stretched out on the couch. I hear his hissing intake of breath. His hands grab my hips, my hair, the span of my waist, he wants to pull me back on his cock now and I arch my back and push my ass toward him, I want him to fuck me, hard and deep, I want him to pull my hair, and I will bite my own hand or muffle what I'll say then against the couch.
But he doesn't do that. It's like I can feel him gathering himself together, the remnants of his self and his selfcontrol. Instead he stops me, grabbing my hands. I want to pull my jeans down and off, I want to spread myself open for him, and he won't let me. He holds my jeans in place around my thighs and so I can't open my legs as wide as I need to, and when the head of his cock parts me I have to bite down or I'll call out. My legs close together like this means I can't bear this, I will have to come now, so much sooner. I struggle, I squirm. His hand now on the small of my back pushing it down, I tilt my ass up further toward him, and oh my god i love how he fucks me. He can see my fingers digging into the couch, he can see how white my knuckles are and how my nails are biting down. I won't talk but I can't control my breathing, and he doesn't stop. He tells me to come on his cock, he tells me to call his name, he tells me to beg him to fuck me even harder.

I want that, all of that. I won't do it. I'm angry. I tilt my ass higher up, he thrusts into me deeper. I push back on him, on his cock. I won't give him more than breath and sounds and movement, I won't give him words. He fucks me hard and fast and deep, I want to be fucked into oblivion. I can always come, but that doesn't mean I'm here with you.

Call my name, he says now, urgently, insistently. [O], tell me to fuck you harder. You want me to. Please.
...jesus fucking christ, he says, [O.] [O.] Come on me, come on my cock. Your cunt--now he groans--ah god, you're split open like a ripe mango, fuck, I can feel you running all over my balls.
He breaks me open, these words and the others that follow are where I begin to unlock, this debauched and profane sacred poetry an axe for the frozen sea inside me.

I spill over. I come, I cant help it now. I come on him and he keeps fucking me like he doesn't feel how im spasming around him. I come on him and around him and I say his name and I beg him to fuck me harder. I can feel him stretching me, the head of his cock bumps my cervix, he slides over my Gspot. I push back on him. He fucks me so hard and sinks into me so deep its like I'm coming apart.

I come all over him and I don't want to, I spill all over his cock and his balls, I come completely and helplessly though I wanted only to come with the body and not also the rest of me engaged, and now his hands are on me, I'm still shuddering and he flips me over, now I'm sitting on the floor and lying back against the couch and he wants now to fuck my mouth, to pour come down my throat, to gag me with his cock now when I might finally speak. On his knees over me and I need to have my hands on his slick cock, and then on his hips and ass pulling him into me, I want him in my mouth. My cunt is still split open and wet and puffy and spasming and when I take him in my mouth and feel his cock begin to pump againt my tongue and my throat as he comes, his eager hands find me, spread me open. His fingers push into me his and hands greedily open and spread me like a book, his hands are open like he holds them out for a gift he is confident of receiving and I come again helplessly into them , all over his hands. I feel unwrapped and completely taken but i come into his hands, my cunt and ass spread open and juicy soft wet for him, all barriers down.

After coming now he pushes his softening cock back into me, he just wants to feel that heat there, feel me gripping him. We slip down to the floor and his warm mouth is on my throat now, seeking that fluttering pulse, and he raises his head only to say quietly to me you know i crave you, don't you. It's not a question.

His lips now find and trap my pulse beating there in my neck just under my jaw, it rises and falls and is caught like a bird would be, pulsing just like my frantic beating heart, trapped and pinned like my cunt was when I came into his hands and around them, just like the words I won't ever say to you are also caught in the cage of my throat when my hands find the back of your neck and I answer you, all I say and it's everything is Yes.

Out of Ireland have I come
Great hatred, little room
Maimed me at the start.
I carry from my mother's womb
A fanatic heart.
W.B. Yeats, Remorse for Intemperate Speech

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Tags: sex, sexblogs, Erotica, cock anger, silence, oralsex, love, Fear

posted by O @ 14:47