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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.