SubKekiLee
DrkSwords pet
- Joined
- Jun 21, 2007
- Posts
- 2,593
Dear X,
All I want to do is write about your mouth.
And all the rest of it, of course, your whole quite thoroughly perfect form and the way it arched so high you bore my weight, and then the way you held so perfectly still.
Astounding. Your hypnotized face, as you hung on the edge, half-frustrated, half-trusting, not knowing for sure that I know you well enough to take you there, not sure, but hungry enough to try me. Hungry enough to surrender to my hands. Here in the first moments, still learning you, I do have this: I am inexorable. I will overwhelm you. I will insist. I will be undeniable. Your body will give in to me, sooner or later. And I am in no hurry. None at all.
Was it worth it, there at the end? Or at least, at that first ending, when you stared straight into my eyes as you came, when it seemed to move on and on and on? Was it worth the wait, and the trust?
But all I want to do is write about your mouth. How perfectly it's shaped, and how that cupid's bow of your upper lip curls open and up, in ecstasy, in desperation. Seeing that, knowing how sensitive your mouth is, how can I not think constantly about all the ways to change the shape of that mouth, those juicy lips with their cruel and luscious curves? How can I not imagine them around my fingers, slick and moving? How can I not think about... well, I think you know.
In this movie from that night, the one I watch over and over in my mind now, your head rocks back with the slap, the heaven and hell, and your eyelids flutter as you try to stay focused on my face. I loved making you look me in the eye, and seeing how you struggled to keep your eyes open, how they kept rolling back as my hand moved. How your face shifted madly, between desperation and confusion and greed and need, between plaintive hunger and something like fear, the suspense I kept you in, for so long.
No, sweetmeat, no, my magnificent toy, my tricked out little jet plane, it's of course far beyond role, far beyond any sort of title or name. If Dom and sub, slave and owner, are not terms that appeal, then let me invent others. I am the Devourer and you are the feast. I am the Possessor and you are the owned one. I am the Adventurer and you are the treasure. I am the Sculptor and you are the marble monument. I am the Archaeologist and you are the rare artifact. I am the Triumphant and you are the prize.
Let it be that, for just a little while. You are worth Owning. You'll bloom so sweetly under my hand. Later, later all the rest of it can be true too. But right now, let me bask in this overwhelming pleasure of Total Privilege. Let me own your wrist, your neck, your skin. And that mouth.
Gods, that mouth.
.
Can I just say this brings back memories of my first time with DS. Thank you ... We both enjoyed it.

It hasn't always been easy - there have been the inevitable bad times, but a lot of wonderful times too, and I just wanted to say thank you for those. Thank you for making me smile, thank you for being there when I need you, thank you for the patience and understanding, thank you for the amazing sex 

