A Woman’s Experience of Lust Part II

There are snakes in my eyes as I slither between these sheets to wind up the leg of some new beast, slurping up sins and sensation like a newborn Eve on her first night fucking Adam. And what does it feel like to eat meat, red, raw and dripping while white blankets carry the new stains of another night in heaven. I would like to know what it feels like to be good, but I am too busy being bad to ever stop and pause and consider any other alternative option. I just let my fingers do the talking, whispering sweet nothings to the buttons at the top of your pants, singing sweet songs to your zipper as I zip and unzip and pull down and around. We both know what kind of secrets are hidden therein, all those beautiful inches upon inches of – well, inches of you. My hand is so slippery as it slinks through your drawers, seeking flesh, seeking just the smallest amount of flesh, gripping on flesh, fingers around flesh. Flesh that tastes like you. Just like you. And I would like to taste you, so I slip down to the ground so you can bury yourself in me. In my mouth. Your dick in between these luscious red lips, which just moments ago were spitting tomes of poetry about how much I love you, oh baby, but that now are couched so comfortably on your dick. Your pretty fucking dick. And you moan, just like I knew you would. With your dick in my mouth. My lips on your cocks. My hands still fluttering, tugging balls, rubbing ass, while you streak fingers through my hair and you moan. You just keep on moaning, and I keep on sucking. This room is just teeming with pleasure. And you are just throbbing, perched on the edge of the bed, thrusting the back of my head fast on your crotch. Because we could do this forever. Me, leaning in, feeling that point at the back of my throat that your dick keeps slamming into, and you, lost in pleasure, lost from the world, reeling back into pleasure while I hold your hand and take you there. We are sinning in the best way possible, so I look in your eyes right before they role to the back of your head. And I know that you love me. Even if it’s not true, I still know that you love me, because your love is splattering its way all across my face, sticky, and icky, and groaning, and spraying straight in my eye. And my hair. All over my cheeks and these pert, red lips, these scions of cum. I am dirty. You are laughing. There is a snake in my eye, and it is yours, dribbling with spit and the handiwork of a woman who knows what she’s doing.

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