I’ve been hard for days. Ready to fuck. I take long luxurious laps at the briefest contacts to my pelvis – the moment of walking through the subway turnstyles. Leaning up against a table. My hips tilt upward in wait, like the center of a plant revealing to the blue sky. Magnetic and animal and it’s all I can do to keep from growling, sharpening my teeth on the skin of the girl next to me, behind me, in front of me.My cock is hard. That internal butch cock that raises and piques when I feel that rush to my clit, that swelling between my legs.
I am a battery charged. Plugged in and there is much I would do for the chance to spend a weekend in bed. Or a day – I’d settle for a day.
Cock so hard I could force it through brick. Through plywood. It could puncture glass, plastic. What would it do to you?
(i don't know you, but) i love your writing. it's evocative& you approach gender/sex with so much creativity..! you inspire.i've had these times when i'm so immersed in attraction that when i walk it's like my hips bleed milk& honey and i'm crying silently for my thighs to be spread and i lapped up. and i can feel desire wind up my spine and out through my skin, roll in waves along my muscles& bones… anticipation's lovely, worth prolonging as a sensation in its own right :]
considering i'm about to go camping with you, i hope it carries the 80 pound tent we have. and it can pitch it, too.
You seem to have a way of completely consuming me with your writing, I'm both envious and intrigued; I've been significantly doubting my own abilities and dealing with a creative dry spell quite recently, yet I am evermore anticipating breaking out of my figurative shell.