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Tuesday, February 21, 2006

...and the gods created love

A feather. He dragged it across my body, making me giggle, then shiver and moan. The sensation was wide-ranging, vague, imprecise. I arched my back, yearning for a firmer touch. He obliged, that mind-reader: his warm mouth on my hard, chilly nipples. A solid, concrete place in a sea of light ticklishness.

My fingers. He kissed them, and my palm, and the back of my hand. He licked the webbing between them, a manoeuvre I wouldn't have thought I'd enjoy but found strangely arousing. And he placed one in his mouth, sucked, drew it out, and said: "Now you have an idea of what it's like to penetrate." Christ.

His cock. He impaled me with it from behind, strong and insistent. It was so deep inside me that I could feel it bruising my cervix, and I knew I'd be sore later but I didn't care. He slapped my ass: not hard enough, but it's a start. I grunted, he sighed and muttered "Oh, god." And came.

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