Friday, February 3, 2017

Weekend Wake-up Call – The Font

She felt how he ached for her, that he wanted to bury his flesh within her and gain his own relief.  But Elisha was too determined to master her, and he would endure his own misery until she submitted.
Please, please, let me yield.  

Yes, my lovely Naya.  Show me you trust me with all your heart.  Give up everything to me.

She looked down her body, her gaze meeting Elisha’s.  His expression was so many things:  confident, adoring, demanding, imploring.  

You must trust me with all you are, or we will not make eternity.

Naya bit her lip and nodded.  “I’ll try.”

His face lowered to her sex once more and she readied herself for another round of torment.

Elisha wasn’t kind.  His fingers set up a quick, brutal tempo, and his mouth latched onto her clit, trapping it so his tongue could lave it with vigor.  Tears streamed from the corners of Naya’s eyes as she fought her own will that shouted she had to seize power, she had to insist he let her come.  Once more she was closing in on that starburst of mind-stealing delight, and her body strained, reaching … reaching…

Elisha backed off once more.  Naya groaned.  She’d been so close, and he’d taken her to the brink.  She knew he’d do it again and again and again until she was insane from need.  And she’d let him too, because she wanted to give him everything.  Even her hard won control.

Good girl.  Now show me, his thoughts whispered in her head.

Something inside Naya relaxed at that moment.  As Elisha drove his fingers within once more and his mouth did the terrible, lovely things that made her want to scream, Naya lay trembling, but she no longer struggled to control herself.  As tentacles of violent pleasure curled around her insides, she whimpered in reaction.  But the part of her that wanted to seize power was quiet, subsumed by love.  She would give Elisha everything, including control if that was what he wanted.

Only in this.  Only to provide you the greatest pleasure, my sweet Naya. You are your own woman, and I would never take your power otherwise.

            He stopped the luscious torture.  Elisha crawled to crouch over her.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  “Thank you for giving me your trust.”

            “Always,” Naya answered, releasing her legs so she could wrap them and her arms around him and pull him down so that their bodies melded together.  “Now end our agony and make love to me.”

            With pleasure.

            She was so swollen that he had to work to enter despite the copious juices flowing from her.  Naya nearly swooned to feel the doubled pleasure:  him slowly piercing her womanhood, filling her delightfully, plus the sensation of how tight he found her, clenching forcefully on his eager flesh.  Elisha’s mouth opened wide and his head reared back.

            “Naya!” he groaned, overcome by their shared ecstasy.

            Somehow he continued to push in though they were both trembling on the edge of culmination.   As pleasure spiraled tight in her womb, Naya felt how Elisha’s scrotum drew up, tensing against him.  Both their loins grew heavy with the swell of bliss, and it only increased as he traveled deeper into her.

            We’ll never make it.  In her profound ardor, Naya wasn’t sure which of them thought it.

            Somehow they did.  At last Elisha was fully seated inside her, their bodies merged along with their minds.  Now there was no division between their shared arousal, no knowledge where one ended and the other began.  

            As one they worked together, tangled in body and consciousness.  All intelligent thought ceased as they thudded against each other, chasing exultation.  There was only tumultuous pleasure, growing closer and closer to its end.

            Billowing heat and expanding ecstasy.  Jabs of rapture so sharp they were almost painful.  Merciless friction.  Swelling jubilation.  Upsurging.  Exploding.  Flinging wide.  Plunging.  Erupting again.  Pulsing.  Waves of bliss.  Undulating delight.  Clinging to another’s solid body.  Belonging.  Softening flutters within as sound returned, gasping breath, soft moans. 

            Love.  Warm, sweet, homecoming love.

            “Forever.”  That single word that meant so much more than time.

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