The Meeting

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


We have written thousands of words to each other, thousands. You have taught me to submit to you. You taught me how to be good. From afar. We unleashed things in each other that we never knew existed. At the beginning, we never thought we would meet.

But now you here you are, walking into the room.

You are bigger than I thought, and stronger. Your hands are bigger, your body more imposing. You have more stubble than I thought you would at this time of day and I like it. Your eyes are greyer than in the photos you sent, than I saw on video. They are greyer and deeper. You are all masculinity. Room-stopping burly masculinity. I am standing in the kitchenette of this Residence Inn hotel room awestruck. You are coming towards me. You make me feel tiny, but then you always did.

You don’t say anything to me. You don’t smile at me. You don’t tell me you love me and you don’t say hello. You push me up against the cabinets, and silverware rattles. I feel the drawer pulls digging into my thighs. My heart is in my veins. You thumb on my cheek, fingers to my jaw, but you aren’t kissing me. You’re just studying me. You once told me you’d always take care of me because escort you take care of your things.

You’re taking something from your pocket. I can feel you hard through your jeans. That cock that I’ve told you I worship, will worship, need to worship. It’s so close to me, but you won’t let me have it. Not yet. Out from your pocket comes a marker, a big thick Sharpie, black and beveled. Magnum size. You once told me you always mark the things that belong to you.

My shirt is coming off, I can smell my own perfume on my shirt as it slips over my head. I bought this perfume for you, for us, for this time together. Just for us. For these forbidden lusty stolen days. For this dream made real. For all those words finally in the flesh. I am so nervous my hands are shaking and ice cold. I grasp for yours but you don’t let me touch you. Not yet.

I knew you were going to do this. You told me so. But dreams, they so rarely come true. Fantasies, they so rarely happen in life. I smell that smell of the marker. That fucking beautiful smell, so awful and so good. Art rooms and moving days and getting a little high for no reason in high school. Sharpie marker, that bursa eve gelen escort smell is ours.

You’re squatting down a little, in front of my stomach. I don’t even have to look, but I do. I need to see this to remember it. In big letters, four inches across my stomach, you’re writing the thing I am: Mine.

I touch your neck. You are right there. My Dom, my love, my fucking fantasy, right there, kneeling before me.

But now you’re saying, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

And now you’re looking at me and I know what you’re thinking. I know you so well. We’re both strung out for each other, and only one thing is going to get us high now. We need to make it real. You and me. In the depths. You need me to rip myself open for you, to lay myself out, flesh and bone. And I need you to rule me, for keeps this time. To show me what you’re made of. To show me who I’ve gone stupid for, who it is I dream about every single night. Who it is who’s changed my orbit, my star charts, my compass points.

We are just there, for a minute. Me marked yours, you looking down at me. You are so steady. You are so fucking bursa görükle escort in control. I can feel the desire sheeting off of you like rain, but you don’t flinch. You are ferocious. You are the sexiest bastard on earth. I hate you right now because I couldn’t possibly love you more.

I know the rules and now I remember them. I know what to say and how. I know what you like and when. In the Mobius strip of dominance and submission, like eats like in the vast emptiness. Soul eats soul in the darkness. I love what you love because I am yours. You trained me up. You broke me down. We are filthy and magnificent together in our dirt and sin.

“Please, daddy. Please.”

Now you’re smiling, just a little. Just a crack in that stone-cold motherfucking façade. You are turning me around, you are lifting up my skirt and pulling down my tights. You are pressing me to the countertop with your hand on my back.

“My little bitch.” I love that. So filthy. So right. “Such a good girl.”

And now you are inside me, and I am in heaven, because I have told you this a thousand times but I’ll tell you again. I don’t want just submit to you. I want to disappear into you. I want you hardfuck me until my cervix aches, until I can do nothing but whimper your name. I want to weep for you. I want you to spill your cum over me and through me.

We are here. We are together. We are one. So protect me and keep teaching me. Love me to the depths of darkness. Show me who I am.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın