Far, Far Away

In all ways, I am completely turned inward. This introspection taints every part of my life. Here and there, a brief respite from the continual analysis, the wiggling of loose teeth, the prodding of a bruise, the peeling of a scab. I feel so removed from my life.

I had a short fling with a man who claimed domination, but reality proved feeble. Our first encounter was....satisfactory. He took his time, but his method was crude. Domination, apparently, is the sexual portrayal of misogyny. At least to him.

Our second encounter was disappointing. My capitulation to his previous crudeness sparked some vague romantic notion. There were strawberries and chocolates. He did not brush his teeth prior to my arrival. I removed myself further.

He demanded, I retreated. It was cat and mouse, physically. I left immediately after, his eyes were barren and hard as I said goodbye. We never spoke again.

Dubliner

Last night, after drinks, I walked back to my parked car with my date. At my car, he leaned against it and pulled me into him. He whispered in my ear that he was about to find out just how responsive my body could be. As he kissed me, ran his tongue along my neck, I could feel my body weakening. The warmth between my legs turned liquid. He whispered again, I want to hear you cum. He put his hand beneath my skirt and raised it until his fingers were brushing against my clit. The slight pressure was enough. My breath caught in my throat and I felt his eyes on me. I came against his fingers. One last kiss, and then the whisper again in my ear - take off your panties, I want them. I complied immediately, dropping them, pulling first one ankle out, and then the other. I felt like a lady, I felt like a whore. He took them and pressed them to his face, breathing in my scent.

Wild Nights, Wild Nights!

I've been gripped so tightly by my desire
that, in the mornings, my legs run
with the cum squeezed from me
in my dreams.

Fuck from Afar

A man in another city, who came to me after developing a fascination for my face and ass. When he arrived, he knelt behind me, pushed my skirt over my hips, and buried his face between my cheeks. I could feel his tongue probing, so I pushed back against him. His hands were on my thighs, I felt them tighten around me at the moment his tongue reached my anus.

He pushed against me, indicating that I was to lean forward. I obliged, giving him full access. His tongue laved against me for what seemed like hours. His cock I could see through my spread legs, hard and ruddy. His hands moved up and down my legs, fingers pawing at my toes. He turned me around, steadied me with one hand, and pulled my right foot to his face. He took my toes, all of them, into my mouth. I put my head back, not in ecstasy, but so as not to show my suppressed giggle. I looked back down at him, with his mouth stretched wide around my foot, at his purplish cock bobbing below, and felt myself move away from my body. I could participate, but my mind was removed.

We shifted to the bed, his cock was deep in my ass. It was not large, there was no struggle. His face as he attempted to hold his cum. His hands with their long fingers on either side of me. The feel of his balls against me. I could not help myself, I came.

He flipped me over, pushed into my cunt. His face, still, contorted. He was at it and at it. I came for him. And came again. His face was so emotive. His cock growing larger in me, his eyes squinched, sweat dripping from his brow. I am on the ceiling looking down, and underneath him looking up. My body is all around him. I speak to him, filthy. Things that have no right to be said. He cums instantly, lip tucked under his front teeth, grunting. I fell back down into my body, and pushed him off me.

Gently

An acquaintance has mentioned to me that my eyes are gentle. Loving. He says this as he imagines grinding his pelvis into mine. He finds the liquid warmth in my eyes to match the liquid warmth in my cunt, and a counterpoint to his rough hardness.

I was describing the taste and texture of his cock. His demands were simple. Say it. Say what you tasted. I tasted cock. His groans were his undoing. He said my name as he came. I drew my breath in sharply, it seemed so intimate too quickly. My fingers twisted my nipples.

I told him I am neither gentle nor loving. I have to give him something that is not me. His pause and disbelief. It's in your voice, he said. That is lust. Ah, so you do lust for me. Giving him more and more. My fingers return to twisting. He says my name into the silence. Coaxingly.

I continue to twist.

Recollections

Recently, I related this story to a friend and potential lover. I'm not sure how I managed to recall it.

I used to get a prank caller. At first I would just hang up on him. But he kept calling. It was always late late late at night. It would wake me, the phone. I'm sure I sounded groggy. His voice was deep. I don't recall now what he said when I would answer. I only remember that it was offensive, and I would immediately hang up. But over the span of a few weeks, I came to look forward to his calls. And I found myself waiting longer each time before disconnecting. Until one night when I just waited, without hanging up. I stayed on the line, and eventually he spoke again. Without his standard opening line, he seemed more human, less crank caller. We began to speak every night. He would push me gently toward the topic of sex, but I was younger then, not sure of myself in that manner. I would turn shy and hang up. I was probably 22 or 23. I remember that he asked me to describe myself, my entire body. He wanted all the details. How long my hair was, the texture of it, the color, my eyes, my lips, my nose, how long or slender was my neck. what the skin on my arms felt like as I rubbed them. if my nails were long or short. Were my breasts full or small, what size were my nipples, how curly was my pubic hair. It went on and on. I felt like he could pick me out of a crowd. I never asked anything about him. I never wanted to know. I just answered his questions. As he asked me to describe myself, his condition was that I had to be touching what I was describing. I felt.....submissive. It was incredibly erotic. If I concentrated hard enough, I could imagine it was his hand, not mine. He led up to it for a few weeks, but eventually I was touching my cunt. Telling him how wet it was. That my clit was swollen. That my finger was slipping inside myself. That my nipples were erect. That night I came for him.