SemperDominus Posted May 6 Sometimes I wonder how well I really know you. When my hands are on your body, gliding over your skin, I wonder if what I feel is the same as what you feel. You're trembling under my touch. Is it because you feel so close to me in that moment all your energy is boiling over? I'd like to think that's the case but maybe you're just cold. Maybe it has nothing to do with me at all. I think about your lips on my body, the way your hair feels falling onto me. I think about your eyes in the dark, the noises you make when I'm inside you. Does that give me special insight into who you are really or are you still a complete mystery to me? I am smart. I have a knack for figuring things out, but if I'm being honest, in the end, I'm just guessing. Have I let bias infect me? Have I constructed you in my mind as something other than you really are? It would be so easy to do. We are all so desperate not to be alone. We all want and need someone on our side. Sliding my hand up your skirt when we are out to dinner, bending you over in the parking lot, covering your mouth as I fuck you in the dark, it feels like more than just ***s engaging in ***istic behavior, but how much have we really evolved. Am I no different than a puritan keeping my daughter "safe" from the world, selling her like property in marriage? I must admit, there is something appealing about that, having that kind of control. It means I have all the power. It means you can never leave me without my blessing. I think in the end we are both still strangers to one another. It's like being at a party and catching your eyes from across the room. In that moment I know soon we will be in the bathroom together, with your mouth around my cock. I know you well enough to know you won't want my hands on the back of your head so I don't mess up your hair. I know you well enough to know you wont want me to cum on your face. You'll want it all in your mouth so I don't dribble onto your clothes. What do you know? When I sit you down on the sink and lift up your skirt, when I kiss my way up your thigh working up towards your smooth little pussy, do you know me well enough to know that in that moment it isn't about finding your clit? That it isn't about gripping your thighs as my tongue swirls around and around. Don't get me wrong, I fucking love the way you taste. I fucking love how it feels, your juices drenching my face. I want that. I want you to grind against my tongue. I want you to legs to lock on to my shoulders. I want you to have to bite down hard on your lips so you don't scream, alerting the rest of the party to what we are doing. But in that moment, what I need is to feel like you belong to me. I need to feel like you're mine. In the end, are we both still strangers to one another? Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I think you've conned me into thinking I've figured you out. If that's the case well done. I bow to the master. But surely there must be days you feel the same way, days where I'm just as big of a mystery to you. Maybe that's why this works. You aren't a puzzle to be completed. You are chess that can never be fully mastered. You are an ever expanding and changing universe without form or substance. I try to hold you in my hands but you're water slipping through my fingers.
Ex**** Posted May 9 I need to find a man who wants me like that! Who feeds everything that i crave! Thank you!
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