You plunge into me; cleaving me, filling me, taking me. Your hands cruelly squeeze and crush the raw flesh of my buttocks. Your hips pummel and thrust up into me. Urgency and panic take me. Agony takes me. Ecstasy melds with distress and spasms into crisis. I climax for you again, and you revel in it. Yet you withhold yours from me.
I tremble and shudder and press my hands down onto your chest. My arms are rubber, my body limp. It hurts, the way your fingers squeeze me, the way the swollen floor of my sex pulses and contracts around you. I am completely spent. My mind can’t help it now. It silently begs to be allowed to take what you’ve done to me into a place that must have rest.
Tears stream from my eyes, and I can’t stop them. I love you so much, and I can’t fathom the luck that has let me have you and keep you for so long. The intensity of what we have just shared rips at me, and when I open my eyes and look down into yours, I see that you know. The soft, perfect affection I see there floods me, and I can’t help the wrenching sobs that well up.
You smile, and then you wrap me to you, warming me, loving me needing me. Your arms gently surround me, drawing me down against you where I can rest. Your hips lift and circle against and within me, soothing the last of my spasms from me. Then you roll me and cover me, and love me more.
Your kisses drink my tears, your caresses still my trembling, your thrusts, though firm and powerful are slow. This gentler love calms me into sleepy sensual bliss. I am all yours. I feel boneless, soft, and completely relaxed beneath you. Your rhythmic sinuous possession of me now is a sweet and perfect contrast to the brutal ownership that came first. Our coupling massages my being. When you finally give in to your climax, nothing is in my senses but you, and I revel in every ripple and contraction your body makes around and with in me. This is the physicality of us. My renewal and tangible reassurance that I am yours and you are mine.