12-08-2015, 12:08 AM
The following is an excerpt from a book I had written a few years ago. This is plain literary indulgence here (I will erase in a day) I am getting sloppy.
(Susan pen name is Sharon) Warning--sexual content.
As Sharon would have me to move on, my clothes packed, I would cling to her as one who refuses to let go. I lowered my head for the consolation of her bosom. I would try to say goodbye, but inevitably there was 'one last time.'
Nestled between Sharon's breasts, I instinctively nudged away clothing from the
cleavage using my nose. Sharon's taut protrusions provided opportune space. Her
fixation with her own tits was a weakness, and my mouth would quickly find its way.
Sharon could never resist; all her resolve left as if air from a balloon the moment I
would suck a wanting nipple.
Clothes would come off, and Sharon would settle on top of me, her **** soaked. Emotions were off the charts, my heart is broken already, but Sharon would make me promise, that this would be it.
This ritual evolved beyond language of words; the facial exchanges became primal and pointed. At the onset, she would make me answer to her that I would leave. Instead of "Yes," I could only cry.
Sharon slapped me because I would not answer, then harder because I cried.
She threatened to raise herself, but I only sobbed.
She would withdraw her body enough to remove me; I would become desperate to pull her back to me in that moment. And, having relented by allowing me back inside of her, she became wickedly angry.
She would slap me so hard, I really wanted physical reprieve. With my head on the floor, she hit with precision and clout.
I would raise my head and body up towards her to abate her harm. When I tried for the refuge of her tits, Sharon went wild. She would put both of her palms over/around my nose and pummel my head back to the carpeted cement. When Sharon does it right, the sound of that thud is alarming, and I am dazed by the blow.
This all became a wordless ritual. Sharon would only have to look at me, to ask, "Did you have enough? Do you understand I can, and will do it again if you do not obey me?"
I would lay still. Nevertheless, Sharon would slap me once hard, and stare me down again. Her stern expression poses the ultimate unambiguous question, "DO YOU
UNDERSTAND?" {I am to understand that she owns me.. I do know}
It is amazing how my penis would tingle in surrender. Sharon senses the obedience, and the harsh look softens. She will begin a focused process to dominate and use me as it suits her.
Sharon sways her tits in fascinating rhythm. This is so mesmerizing, so soothing.
Sharon will handle a tit and point an erect pink nipple at my eyes. Sharon bolsters my focus
and makes my aim unmistakeably certain. Her manipulation is expertly wicked.
Her power destroys my will. I can only crave in agony. Sharon has what I need.
Sharon sways her tits more, but now a little closer. Sometimes her nipple is close enough that if I nod my head I can touch. And, I will try to touch.
Sharon will be more gentle, but her hands still firmly push my head down. Sharon is methodically cruel. My tears are now a plea, an unrestrained begging.
She increases the pressures of pleasure and denial by actually putting
her nipple into my mouth. Sharon sees my perfect gaze and knows that I am one with her prize, so she allows a momentary suckle. She pulls her tit away from me.
I am hypnotized.
Now, when Sharon puts her nipple close to my mouth, my lips part involuntarily.
She and allows, then thwarts. My nervous system renders me helpless. I am crying
deliriously.
Sharon gives me her nipple to keep. OMG. OMG! I sniffle through my nose convulsively while sucking, taking in healing air as Mommy makes my world right.
We were then both lost in an indescribable zone, a genuine act of passion, that
sometimes lasted minutes. {From beginning to end was passionate, but I refer here to a
rapturous mix of primal anguish and pleasure that took us both far away.}
Shhh baby, shhh. Soft and caressing... "Mommy will take care of you."
Shhh, shhh to cure the convulsions and sniffling from denial. Shhh shhh shhh ... shhh ...shhh
My sniffles now have long, involuntary intakes of breathe. Shhh shhh
(silent) "Yes, its okay, Mommy loves you." {I use words to describe what is really
happening, but there NEVER were words at this stage, just intensity and soothing Shhh
shhh...shhh}
I am sucking hard, and I put my hands to Sharon's tit. Shhh Shhh Shhh Shhh. Sharon
forgets she is mothering me, is one with baby. The tempo of shhh's is becoming faster, and so is Sharon's rhythmic cadence riding me.
Sharon's Shhhhshhhshhh... is no longer voluntary and she is reaching her climax. My body commences strong pelvic thrusts to meet Sharon's. Sharon is in violent urgency as I am clung to her tit in an uncontrollable act of suckling.
Breathing stops. The bodies stop, the world stops ......
Then bursts of released air from the lungs are desperate, rutting animal noises. Shudders come in tremors of ecstatic anguish.. Orgasm is ALWAYS simultaneous.
By the fifth time, there are no words from beginning to end. Facial
expressions are infinite, and eyes exchange a perfectly warped communion. Our
private dirty secret has the luscious, alchemy of perverse human obscenity.
There was no trust on my part; I was plain willing to accept however brutal Sharon
wanted to be. Period. I think I would have let her kill me.
This kept escalating to a more violent ritual to satisfy the distorted psych of each. About the eighth or ninth time I had left a significant bruise on one of Sharon's tits which totally pissed her off. I was finally made to leave.
A month later I would have a very serious accident after a date with another girl. I was very drunk, fled the police at high speeds in a car chase, and crashed. I was in an existential moment of knowing I had to decide for life or death, to take another breath, to stay conscious.
Perhaps the awful car wreck after our last time was an appendage, and Sharon is still
beating me to death. {after I am out of the hospital and jail, Sharon will take me back with her}
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There were many separations over one and a half decades before we married. Sometimes I needed her. Sometimes she needed me more.
(Susan pen name is Sharon) Warning--sexual content.
As Sharon would have me to move on, my clothes packed, I would cling to her as one who refuses to let go. I lowered my head for the consolation of her bosom. I would try to say goodbye, but inevitably there was 'one last time.'
Nestled between Sharon's breasts, I instinctively nudged away clothing from the
cleavage using my nose. Sharon's taut protrusions provided opportune space. Her
fixation with her own tits was a weakness, and my mouth would quickly find its way.
Sharon could never resist; all her resolve left as if air from a balloon the moment I
would suck a wanting nipple.
Clothes would come off, and Sharon would settle on top of me, her **** soaked. Emotions were off the charts, my heart is broken already, but Sharon would make me promise, that this would be it.
This ritual evolved beyond language of words; the facial exchanges became primal and pointed. At the onset, she would make me answer to her that I would leave. Instead of "Yes," I could only cry.
Sharon slapped me because I would not answer, then harder because I cried.
She threatened to raise herself, but I only sobbed.
She would withdraw her body enough to remove me; I would become desperate to pull her back to me in that moment. And, having relented by allowing me back inside of her, she became wickedly angry.
She would slap me so hard, I really wanted physical reprieve. With my head on the floor, she hit with precision and clout.
I would raise my head and body up towards her to abate her harm. When I tried for the refuge of her tits, Sharon went wild. She would put both of her palms over/around my nose and pummel my head back to the carpeted cement. When Sharon does it right, the sound of that thud is alarming, and I am dazed by the blow.
This all became a wordless ritual. Sharon would only have to look at me, to ask, "Did you have enough? Do you understand I can, and will do it again if you do not obey me?"
I would lay still. Nevertheless, Sharon would slap me once hard, and stare me down again. Her stern expression poses the ultimate unambiguous question, "DO YOU
UNDERSTAND?" {I am to understand that she owns me.. I do know}
It is amazing how my penis would tingle in surrender. Sharon senses the obedience, and the harsh look softens. She will begin a focused process to dominate and use me as it suits her.
Sharon sways her tits in fascinating rhythm. This is so mesmerizing, so soothing.
Sharon will handle a tit and point an erect pink nipple at my eyes. Sharon bolsters my focus
and makes my aim unmistakeably certain. Her manipulation is expertly wicked.
Her power destroys my will. I can only crave in agony. Sharon has what I need.
Sharon sways her tits more, but now a little closer. Sometimes her nipple is close enough that if I nod my head I can touch. And, I will try to touch.
Sharon will be more gentle, but her hands still firmly push my head down. Sharon is methodically cruel. My tears are now a plea, an unrestrained begging.
She increases the pressures of pleasure and denial by actually putting
her nipple into my mouth. Sharon sees my perfect gaze and knows that I am one with her prize, so she allows a momentary suckle. She pulls her tit away from me.
I am hypnotized.
Now, when Sharon puts her nipple close to my mouth, my lips part involuntarily.
She and allows, then thwarts. My nervous system renders me helpless. I am crying
deliriously.
Sharon gives me her nipple to keep. OMG. OMG! I sniffle through my nose convulsively while sucking, taking in healing air as Mommy makes my world right.
We were then both lost in an indescribable zone, a genuine act of passion, that
sometimes lasted minutes. {From beginning to end was passionate, but I refer here to a
rapturous mix of primal anguish and pleasure that took us both far away.}
Shhh baby, shhh. Soft and caressing... "Mommy will take care of you."
Shhh, shhh to cure the convulsions and sniffling from denial. Shhh shhh shhh ... shhh ...shhh
My sniffles now have long, involuntary intakes of breathe. Shhh shhh
(silent) "Yes, its okay, Mommy loves you." {I use words to describe what is really
happening, but there NEVER were words at this stage, just intensity and soothing Shhh
shhh...shhh}
I am sucking hard, and I put my hands to Sharon's tit. Shhh Shhh Shhh Shhh. Sharon
forgets she is mothering me, is one with baby. The tempo of shhh's is becoming faster, and so is Sharon's rhythmic cadence riding me.
Sharon's Shhhhshhhshhh... is no longer voluntary and she is reaching her climax. My body commences strong pelvic thrusts to meet Sharon's. Sharon is in violent urgency as I am clung to her tit in an uncontrollable act of suckling.
Breathing stops. The bodies stop, the world stops ......
Then bursts of released air from the lungs are desperate, rutting animal noises. Shudders come in tremors of ecstatic anguish.. Orgasm is ALWAYS simultaneous.
By the fifth time, there are no words from beginning to end. Facial
expressions are infinite, and eyes exchange a perfectly warped communion. Our
private dirty secret has the luscious, alchemy of perverse human obscenity.
There was no trust on my part; I was plain willing to accept however brutal Sharon
wanted to be. Period. I think I would have let her kill me.
This kept escalating to a more violent ritual to satisfy the distorted psych of each. About the eighth or ninth time I had left a significant bruise on one of Sharon's tits which totally pissed her off. I was finally made to leave.
A month later I would have a very serious accident after a date with another girl. I was very drunk, fled the police at high speeds in a car chase, and crashed. I was in an existential moment of knowing I had to decide for life or death, to take another breath, to stay conscious.
Perhaps the awful car wreck after our last time was an appendage, and Sharon is still
beating me to death. {after I am out of the hospital and jail, Sharon will take me back with her}
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There were many separations over one and a half decades before we married. Sometimes I needed her. Sometimes she needed me more.