Submitted by Patrick

One afternoon, we were out of town on vacation and sitting in a booth at a bar in our hotel when I first revealed to her my fantasy of wanting to watch her have sex with another man. Her response surprised me because I expected rejection but instead heard her ask, “What do you want to see me do with this other man.”

Even though we have been married for three years I was caught completely off guard by her non-rejection of the theme. Thus, I was awkwardly silent while struggling to begin an explanation of my now revealed sexual desire.

During that contemplative silence she was looking about the bar and quickly blurted out “Would you like to see me do it with that guy at the bar?”

I followed her eyes to see the object that had caught her attention. He was young, early twenties in a sports coat and slacks sitting alone at the bar. I felt even more awkward as my mind contemplated the tangled boundary that lies between reality and fantasy. Tension consumed me.

“Would you do it with him?” I soon asked.

Her eyes turned to me and while staring into my eyes, she asked, “Do you want me to approach him to see if he would do it?”

I was now even more surprised than ever by seeing a side of her that had never been revealed to me before.

I told her that my fantasy required that this “other person” be a stranger because involving someone we knew would be too complicated.

“Do you want me to ask him?” she asked again.

When I blurted out, “I think so”, she turned to survey him again.

I watched her gorgeous body walk over and sit next to him at the bar.  I watched him buy her a drink. I watched them talk. Later, after their second drink, I saw him turn to look across the room at me. Then several minutes later, they both got up and came to sit at the booth with me.

After an uncomfortable introduction, Richard told me that he was also from out town on business and was interested in the arrangement that Sheri had described. I asked him to tell me what his understanding of the arrangement was.

He turned to look at Sheri and replied “As I understand it, the three of us will go to your room and you will watch her and I have sex. Is that right?”

“Yes, that is what we have in mind”

When we got to the room, Richard was gleaming at my wife when he asked “What will you be doing while Sheri and I do our thing?”

I replied, “I only want to watch”.

Richard approached her, gently pulled her to him and they began kissing. Soon, they were lying on our bed. As they kissed, his hand found her breast before it plunged under her dress to search for her sexual goldmine.

In less than an hour from the time I had revealed my sexual fantasy to my wife, I was watching a complete stranger begin to make love to her. Sheri was completely ignoring me while letting Richard have his way with her. My sexual interest was heightened by watching them in a way I had never felt before. This sight was so stimulating I was about to have an orgasm.

He pulled her panties off, pushed her dress up and lowered his head to be six inches from her pussy when he exclaimed, “God, your pussy looks good; seeing it really turns me on”. He then buried his face at that love junction between her legs.

She still had all her clothes on when he dropped his pants, climbed on top of her and brought his large erection to the entrance of her glory spot. I then saw her hand take his manliness to guide it into her. They were intensely kissing again as his dick became deeply imbedded inside of her. In the next few minutes, neither of them moved. As he lay on top of her, they continued kissing without moving. Soon, he rose his head and groaned, “I’m coming”, and began to viscously pump his hips, which caused his dick to rapidly move in and out of her.

She immediately began to fuck him back. I watched the two of them pound and grind each other as his seed flowed from being in him to be in her. Her butt was driving up and down in time with his bouncing hips. Afterwards, they were lying next to each other when he said, that he wanted to do it again. He asked her to take her clothes off, which she did, When he took his off, they were both naked when he asked her to suck him to make him hard again. When she had done that, he was lying on her back when he told her to get on top. After she sat on top of him, she had her knees on either side of his waist with his dick buried inside of her. He then told her he wanted to see her move to make herself come.

I then watched my wife begin bouncing her ass up and down on his erect penis. She leaned forward and was looking down into his eyes as he felt both of her tits. He maneuvered his body to accentuate her every move. Soon she was breathing hard and moaning. When she loudly exclaimed, “Ohhh… Ohh… Ohhh…”, I knew she was coming.

This went on for an hour with them in many different positions before he proclaimed he was coming again.

When he got dressed and was heading out the door he asked if he could see us again before we left the hotel. Sheri took his phone number and said we would think it over.

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I wake. I don’t know the time nor what I was dreaming. I’m not really
awake yet, and it seems very natural that my hand should move lower,
between my legs. I part my thighs and arch my back a little. My eyes
are still shut, and it’s so cold out there, I don’t want to leave this
small part of warmth here under the duvet. I don’t want full
consciousness yet.

I sigh. My fingers trace my labia, then part them. I slide one finger
inside. I’m already a bit wet there, and I trace myself, spreading
that slippery wetness. It brings out more, and I feel a single pulse
deep inside my cunt, that ache to be filled.
I push my hips up, towards my fingers, but I won’t let them descend
fully yet on my clit; I want to prolong this, just as you would.

Now up. To my clit, and I gasp a little and bite my lip when I get
there. It springs up as it always does, grows plumper, more sensitive,
more slippery. One finger, rubbing, dreamy slowness, circles soft,
then more firmly, then soft again. . .

I slow down. I don’t want to come too soon.

I slide a finger inside myself and clench around it, and then I bring
my fingers up to my mouth and taste myself. I don’t why but the taste
changes, I don’t know if it has to do with where I am in my cycle, or
with diet, or some other weird alchemy of body and mind. There’s
always a similar note though, I think there must be for all women,
some individual scent and taste that is the base note for all our
variations. I don’t taste or smell quite like my one girlfriend’s cunt
did, nor did she smell or taste quite the same all the time. I lick my
fingers, and now I open my legs more, as I bring my fingers back.

I could come very quickly, and sometimes I do; those orgasms that are
had for the relief of tension, or on the edge of falling asleep. Or I
could spend three hours, break out the toys. Not today, neither of
these. This is the waking up kind of wanking.

On my clit now, again. Slow circles that bring me suddenly so close, I
did not know the edge was right there, and I have to stop, before
going on.

I’ll bring myself to this edge 3 or 4 times, coming to the cliff and
then backing off from the plunge. I don’t dread falling, I long for
it.

My hips press down now, rocking in their own rhythm. pushing me
forward.—and then I come, and shudder helplessly, I shake, and there
are no thoughts now, the blackboard of the mind wiped purely clean. My
thoughts fly, scatter like sparrows, my mind empties like that
abandoned wire against the sky, and ll I am conscious of now is pure
sensation, the wetness coating my fingers, the heat of my cunt pulsing
around them.

I’m helpless now, opened up in more than the physical sense, and
though I have scrupulously not thought of you, not at all, nor of
anyone . . . This is when I am suddenly filled with your voice, as I
come, although I don’t want to be, at all. I’m flooded with the image
of you kneeling here, your tongue slipping into me, the rough velvet
of your tongue gently and urgently tracing these soft folds, while
your fingers open me to you even more. How I’d push upward against
your tongue, my hands on your head, my fngers gripping your hair, as I
lift my hips to help guide the chalice of myself to your lips. I push
these images away from me as quickly as they occur, yet not quickly
enough. I can close my mental eye to these images and banish them, but
I don’t seem able to control what I hear, and it’s your voice that
stays no matter what; it invades me and undoes me as I come, as I
shake. I’m inundated with it, like drowning, like diving.

I can’t drive it out. I cry out, in coming, I can’t ever help that,
and as the memory of your voice saying my name fills my head I think I
come harder, because of it.

I lie still in my bed after, heartrate and breathing returning to
normal, hand still between my legs. I hold onto myself.

I don’t think of you but you’re here all the same.
I open my eyes.
Wake.

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My bed. We’re naked, and I won’t let you any longer be above me,
despite how I love and crave to bear your weight on top of me.

I reach a point where I need to be on top, where I can no longer bear
this gentle teasing.

I straddle you, and take your cock in my hand. You haven’t been inside
me yet, but you will be, and now is when I need to kneel over you.

I take your cock between both my hands, and kneeling above you I use
it. I trace it along my naked and bare slit, so you can feel how wet I
am already there, and I tease you and me both by rubbing your cock
now, gently, the head of it, on my clit, parting me at last.

I love my body, this source and root of sensual pleasure, and I also
don’t like my body, of course, –does any woman?–but I know you love
it, and you love for me to be on top for this reason also, so you can
look at me. I watch you, and I close my eyes when I drag the head of
your cock over me, and smile, and not because I don’t want to watch
you but because I know you love to watch me, my face, like this, lost
in our pleasure, dreaming, drowning.

Lost; drifting in the underwater world.

I want you inside me now, I need that. I open my eyes, I watch your
face, your eyes, I lift; I straddle you, I hold the head of your cock
just between the lips of my cunt. I want you to feel the heat, the
wetness there.

I want you to beg me, before I let you in, just a little.

But now you grab my hips and I catch my breath. I think you’ll pull me
onto you. I think you’ll impale me.

You don’t.

You pull me upward instead, towards you, towards your mouth.

No, I say, involuntarily. I always do. I can’t only take pleasure, and
I have to say no, when someone gives me it.

Yes, you say. Gently, urgently. Yes. You pull me by my hips, that one
arm wrapped around them, you pull me towards you. You position me
above your mouth.

I shake, I tremble, I shiver.
I grasp my headboard. I’m kneeling now above your face, my thighs spread.
If I did not cling to the iron of my headboard, I would fall. I hang
on, and my knuckles are already white, before your tongue ever touches
me. I already feel naked and vulnerable, before you open me, as I
kneel over your face.
I already feel split open, and already I am wet; then your tongue parts me.

Your hands are on my hips, holding me firm above you. Your tongue
probes me, opens me.

I melt. I run like melting ice. Unlocked, I flow.

You open me with your tongue, while your arm is around my hips; then
one hand snakes up, and while your tongue is against my clit the
fingers of your other hand suddenly part me, open me fully.

You sink one finger in, and then two, while you kiss me. You kiss my
cunt, my clit, you make love to it with your tongue, your lips, and
your fingers sink into me at the same time, obscenely opening me,
spreading me for your hungry mouth, penetrating me, taking me.

I cling to the headboard, I want to lift myself away from your mouth’s
knowledge of me, from your ownership of me, I want to hide. But I
can’t escape. I can’t escape that tongue–you hold my hips still and
unmoving, firm, in place.

I shake.
You hold me steady.

My arms tremble, like all of me. I can’t do anything. I can feel how
wet I am–how wet you’ve made me. I feel it running down the insides
of my thighs. I feel it against your cheek, which is against my thigh.
I can feel how I am drowning you and drenching you with my cunt. I
cannot help it, this is what you do to me, this is me, coating you,
your face.

I can’t bear it.
I feel the tender abrasion of your cheek against my thighs, that
roughness there because you need to shave again, and as if my own
thought passed through your own mind at the same instant, you turn
aside suddenly, press your lips to the hollow of my inner thigh, kiss
me, and then bite me gently and carefully, expertly, there, a lover’s
bruise I’ll find in the morning, blooming on that most pale and
delicate secret skin.
I feel the muscle there jump and quiver as your lips touch my thigh,
and I know you feel it too, leaping under your lips and mouth, like my
pulse, my heartbeat there.
The tenderness and intimacy of this caress alone almost undoes me,
makes my heart melt too, running over everything.

You pull me down now against you, you want me to let go, in every
sense. You want to devour me, you want my cunt pressed against your
face, I hear you inhale greedily, I feel you drink me, and your hand
and arm try to pull me down even more.
I can’t.

I need to turn around. I can’t bear this. I can’t bear to only receive
and not give pleasure, and I need to twist around. I need to lie on
top of you, I need to have your cock in my mouth now–if this must go
on, I need to have you in my mouth too. Please.

It’s the only way I can go on, with your tongue against me like that,
with my secret heart laid bare and beating and open to you.
I need your cock in my mouth. Please.
I need your most secret self laid bare and beating in my hands.

I take your hands in mine, I peel your arm off my waist, though you
resist. I pull away. I twist, I pivot on your fingers still inside me,
and I lie down on top of you. I hold your balls gently with one hand
and with the other I touch your cock at last, gently at first because
I savour that initial gasp I tear from you, and because I love to
touch you gently at first, before I settle down to the real business
of making love to you, of fucking you. I stroke your cock with my
fingers lightly from bottom to top, and I place my tongue against that
exact place on the head of it–you know the one—-before, with a
sigh, I take the head of you into my warm and waiting and wet mouth.

I taste myself and my desire there, on your cock, mixing with the
taste of your own.

This is the same moment when your lips wrap around me again, around my
clit, and I must close my eyes at the same time as my lips close
around your cock, and I shudder on top of you for an interminable and
eternal instant as your hands hold my hips, your thumbs opening me,
spreading my cunt open for you, splaying all of me open for your
mouth. I must shake and cling to you like this, before I can go on,
distracting myself from the pleasure you give me by the pleasure I
know I can and will give you.

Now.

Now we can begin.

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I’ve been asleep when he calls me. Doesn’t matter, I think I was
dreaming him anyway. I close my eyes and let his voice wash over me.
I’m leaving, he says, I’m out the door in a few minutes, I just had to
hear you….I know this. We’re greedy. Always skating right up to the
edge of whatever time limit we have…and always then a little over.
We’re both always late for everything now. Even more than before.

I’m naked and warm under my duvet. He asks where I am, and I tell him.
He can picture it, remember me. Are you going to come for me later, he
asks, and I tell him, yes, as soon as you have to go. I want you to
think about that while you’re going to X, I tell him.
I have to come, I can’t wait for tomorrow for you to fuck me again.
The voice on the phone slows down, drops a register.
Yes, he says, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.
I can’t breathe now. Tell me, I say. My thighs are a little open, and
I’m holding my hand just over my cunt. I can already feel the heat
there, without touching, the heat he brings out in me. Tell me what
you want me to imagine, right now.
Let’s see he says slowly. He’s not above being a little sadistic with
me. I think he likes to prolong it, the moments where he still has
control, before I can make him equally helpless. I both hate and love
this helplessness he makes me feel.
Keep your eyes closed, he tells me
Imagine I’m standing there over you, watching you.
I’d have to take my cock out. I’d have to be stroking it.
Tell me where you want me to come, he says. Tell me where you want my cock most.
I tell him.
I gasp a little. I can’t hold back, and while he’s been telling me to
imagine him stroking his cock, I had to give in though I hadn’t
planned to. One finger gently parting the swollen lips of my pussy,
there is so much wetness there now. I imagine how it’d look to him. I
drag the tip of my finger over my clit and I shudder. I know he hears
it in my breath, and can hear it in my voice, that shiver. I can
picture with my eyes shut how his hands would move on his cock, and
it’s just how I would picture with him here. I’m teetering on that
edge, before i lose all self-restraint. In another minute I’ll
surrender all control over what I do and say.
I want you to imagine me, I tell him.
I want you to watch me.
I want you to imagine me with my legs flung wide, one hand holding
open my cunt so you can see everything, how much I want you, how wet I
am, my fingers on my clit.
Like they are right now.
This is what I want to do with him, to be flung open, all petals
opened, to be known. The layers of my self and of language peeled back
to the shining core. My body a husk split open. It rises in me, around
me like water closing over my head, and I want to know you he says
sometimes, his cock plunging into me, and yes, yes, I gasp, pinned on
him, squirming. I want to be known, to know him and sometimes all this
frantic and relentless plunging seems like the pursuit of something
else, this hunger that is never sated, always more. When he comes into
the core of me and I shudder around him clenching on his cock it feels
like that.
So I want him to see everything, I want him to see me with my cunt
splayed wide, opened for him, in the same way that i would kneel above
his face, let him taste me, know me.
I want you to watch me, I say, I want you to come on me. I want his
genetic code written on me–will you come on me? will you tell me
where?
I know he will have to leave. I can’t stop though, and I know I’ll
come as soon as he hangs up…

The warm voice in my ear is rougher now, lower, between a growl and a
sigh and he says oh christ [O] i have to get my cock out…oh fuck, i
have to

Yes, I say, desperate now and I can’t talk. Yes. Please. I can’t
swallow. I can see in my mind’s eye his gorgeous cock and his hands on
it, I almost think I will faint, if I weren’t already on my back I
would have to lie down.
(I want him to come on me. I imagine it dripping down me, around my
hand. I can almost feel it now, beacuse I’m wet like a river, and I
can almost smell us together. I can almost smell him in my bed with
me, the way he wakes sometimes in the middle of the night and
hallucinates the smell of me on his hands.
I want him to come on me, I imagine it. I want to rub it into myself
and lick my fingers while he watches. I want to let him watch me touch
myself while it runs out of my cunt. I can’t understand these urges,
new to me, but there is something about the way I want you that makes
my imagination turn completely pornographic. We start out teasing but
it’s like we never have enough of each other, the foreplay falls away
in this headlong rushing plunging through space, like the way we can
never bear for you to give me your cock an inch at a time, always that
need for complete union, for you to thrust into me and bury yourself
in me ballsdeep.)
Wittgenstein is wrong; there is a private language and this is what we
are speaking now and so I cannot write it, and when he comes I can
feel it, i can’t help coming too, I always come when he calls me like
my body and spirit are being turned inside out, caught up like a
washcloth, shaken and wrung out by something larger than us. Lying
here gasping and coming back to myself, apart yet not. Only connect.

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I’m on my hands and knees. I tilt my hips up, but I want to tip them
up higher. I have to drop down so that I’m on my elbows and my face is
in the pillow. I can’t support myself with just my hands; my arms will
shake too much, because all of me is trembling. The same way I can’t
come standing up unless he holds me up, my knees and all of me goes
weak, liquid, hot.

His hands hold me open, his hands on my ass, splitting all of me open
for him to take, see, know.
I don’t know what I will feel first, or where. I want this, this sort
of exposure, and it also frightens me in a way. I hold my breath, or
try to. I feel this naked and vulnerable with him anyway, all the
time, this is only the physical symbol of that.

What I feel–it’s not him opening me with his cock. Not yet.

He lays his cock against me, against my open cunt, the tip towards my
ass, his balls against my clit. He rubs his length of his cock between
and against my opening and wet lips. Not inside me yet, he just wants
the shaft against me, to feel the heat and wetness generating there.

I reach back. I need more contact, I take his balls on one hand and
press them gently against me, my clit.

(this is when I begin to lose control over my silence.)

He’s teasing himself, but also me.

I feel him pull back, I let go, there’s suddenly cool air there
hitting me, where his cock was. Then the head of it. Just pressing
there, against my clit.

Show me, [O], my lover says, use me.
Use my cock. Show me.

I reach back. I don’t speak. I don’t have words for this. I take his
cock in my hand, the heft and weight and thickness, the bloodpulse of
it, and I press the swollen head of it against my clit. Slippery, hard
also, wanting.

I know [X] loves to watch, and needs to see my need, not only feel it.

I rub him against me and feel his hands tighten on my ass and hips,
his fingers digging in, I hear his intake of breathe, the choked gasp
like the one I’m making, have been, smothered.

I turn my face against the pillow, I know he wants to see me.

Now I’m teasing me, but also him. Up, down, around, getting the head
of his cock shiny slick, wet, moving down and rubbing it against me,
where I’m opening. I dont push him in yet, I pull back, up, to my clit
again.

Then I have to. I guide the head of his cock to me, I press him in.

Just the head, stretching me open and invading me. It takes a minute
always to adjust to that, this penetration of one’s most secret self
my another, no matter how much you want it and are ready and aching
and demanding it. Even though it also feels most natural, like the key
turning in a lock, something built to fit, there is this moment of
invasion and acceptance.

He pushes in, giving me a moment to adjust, take him in. One inch,
two. The thickness of the head, the slight dip after it, then the
thickness of the shaft, only one inch.
Count.
Breathe.
Open.

More. Give me more of you, now.

I want more. I want him to press ahead. I want all. He stops, waits.
Breathe.
I feel how wet I am, how it runs out of me. I reach around. I take the
rest of his cock in my hand. I push back on him.When he slides into me
now my hands find the metal of my bedstead. I need to hang on to
something. I have to. My fingers wrap around the metal, my nails bite
into my hands. I know he can see my hands clutching, cam see my
knuckles are white. This involuntary movement also tells him I want
him, and what I want, just like my hips and ass thrusting up against
him tell him as surely and truly as any words I might say.

This is the other language, the body-language, the one lovers are
fluent in and speak secretly and privately and only to each other.
It’s the language of rhythm and pulse and throb like that of the heart
that keeps beating even when we want it to stop; it beats I am, I am.
It matters but it also doesn’t matter in this instant that he also
fucks another, because this is our language of need for each other,
and no other.
Inviolate, he violates me.
What is desire like, for men? For me, for women I think, it’s this
sudden awareness of this absence, this hollow, this need to be filled,
this emptiness that didn’t exist before. Suddenly we feel it, suddenly
it exists, it did not exist until we wanted someone. Now it’s there,
an ache, a hollow, sudden, piercing.

It’s like love in a way, the need for one specific Other, suddenly, to
be complete. Something not-us and once not-known is now essential,
necessary.

Now he fucks me, driving deep and slow. Pulls my hips back onto him
with each thrust, feels me pushing back, yes, now, this, deep.
Not pulling his cock out of me all the way, only pulling back an inch,
thrusting again, he needs to be in me deep, all the way.

I tilt my ass up for him, I want him that deep, it hurts and I want
that hurt, that pain when he hits my cervix, that mouth there hungry
also. I love to be fucked like this, and I love it when he fucks me
like this, because he splits me open, fills me, I love his cock and
need it–this cock, this man. This cock is beautiful and the largest I
have ever known, it hurts, fills, rends, gives pleasure through
pain–but it is attached to this man, this one, and I want both just
this deeply. Like this. Inside.

Inside me, the tight secrecy of the self split open, apart. This is
why I need him to fuck me like this, ass in the air and my cunt and
ass opened to him fully, all of me opened and splayed wide for fingers
or tongue or cock. Any of them, anywhere. Fill me.

Now he pauses, pulls back. The head of his cock still in me, and i
want him to plunge in again, to drive deep and deeper still.
I also want his cock in my mouth, I want that too.
Or to feel him pressing against me opening up my ass. to feel his cock
nudging me there, prying me open with just the head, I cannot take
more yet but I want to take all, but I love to feel him coming in me
there, I love how his come will run out of me after, I love the pain
and the way I will feel his cock in me long after, that memory of
being joined when we’re not.

I’m waiting, how will he fuck me, where?

Make me whole, fill me.

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It’s too hot to sleep. I twist my hair up off my neck and sleep naked
under a cotton sheet with only a fan, but I still wake up. In the
still close dark the sheets are damp and when my hand drifts lower i’m
more hot and more slick there. I remember you here and over me, I
remember you winding your hand in my hair and pulling, making me arch
my back. I can hear your voice that clearly now, that murmur behind
and above me, I know what you need, right before your hot mouth finds
the back of my neck and you thrust yourself home, inside me.

Eyes closed now I dip one finger inside myself. Hot, wet, swollen, and
also tight. I remember you behind me in the shower. We’d lit the
candles and left the lights off and you knelt behind me, making me
lean into the water pouring over me, sluicing over the curves of hips
and breasts and ass. You lifted my breasts from behind, weighed them
in your hands, pulled and pinched the nipples until I pushed back into
you. You made me lean forward, elbows on the slick wet tile. You knelt
behind me and I felt you cupping my ass and opening me, my cunt and
ass both exposed to you, to your gently persuading fingers and probing
tongue. I ground back on your face, the way now im grinding into my
hand, remembering you.

When you think I’m quivering and wet enough you slide a finger into my
ass, following your tongue. Then i feel the plug, slippery. You spread
me open, and it hurts to feel it slide in, but it’s this hurt I
welcome and stretch to accomodate, eager. Now your hands on my clit,
slippery, you play with me. Taking my hand and guiding my fingers
inside my cunt, you tell me to tell you what it’s like, you make me
feel it. How the geomoetry of my cunt has changed, how I can feel the
rigidity of the plug and its ripples through the walls of my cunt,
narrowing that passage, making it tighter, this familar smoothness now
alien, different.

Oh, fuck, I gasp, please–I don’t know what I’m asking for, but you
answer me anyway. Yes you tell me. I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to
give you my cock.

On the bed you make me lie down and then slide into me, an inch at a
time. Your hands tighten on my hips. Standing alongside the bed with
me stretched across it, my legs dangling off it, you slide into me,
watching my face. One inch and then withdrawing, now two. I almost
can’t bear this feeling of fullness, of being taken and penetrated so
thoroughly, in two places. This is mine, you’ve said to me before
about my cunt, and it’s true; I come when you tell me, and I come for
you, but now I feel it in a way I have not before. You do know what I
want, I want your cock, I want to travel farther, travel faster, to
push the limits of sensation of myself and breach the shells that hold
the self. I want to transcend time and place and circumstance. This
thing that means you wake with the taste of me on your mouth and the
smell of me on your hands, the way that the sound of my voice invades
you in dreams and you hear me with you in stillness, in church,
especially in church, the same way that when I listen for the light
within it’s you I hear.

And when you thrust into me all the way, filling me entire, stretching
me open I wrap my legs around your hips, pulling you in deeper,
shuddering under you, you fall forward, taking my hands in yours now,
holding them over my head, long deep slow thrusts now, for as long as
you can bear, until you stop and pull my legs up, bend them, plunge
into me as deeply and as desperately as you want, no restraint now, I
hear the shower still running, the slap of our wet bodies, my sounds,
yours. When I beg you to let me come, to tell me to come, you keep
fucking me hard and fast, you ask me teasingly if I’m sure, if I’m
ready. I scratch you now, nails digging in before I remember not to, I
want to bite you and instead I pull your hair, yes, I say damn you,
yes–
Come then, come for me now O you say urgently, come for me like you’re
falling, come on my cock now baby

and I do, and i hear you swearing while I come on you and around you,
these blasphemous and also transcendent prayers we mouth imploringly.
I feel you trying to hold back, and then oh jesus, you say, and I feel
you start coming, hot spurts, I want it running out of me afterwards.
You’re still hard and you fuck me with smooth deep slow strokes into
coming again, I’m shaking. I don’t think I can come like this, all of
me stretched open and filled, but you make me, you won’t pull out or
take the plug out, I clench around it, falling.

I come like that now again, remembering you, falling. I fall into
sleep with my fingers still dipped inside me, like you did.

Since starting TYSS we have come across so many wonderfully talented people. So we have decided once a month to feature one artist that excels in the art of erotica. This artist must possess all of the qualities we love in a writer, photographer or a painter.