Sunday, December 4, 2011

A little respect

I dress up for you, in short, not-quite-slutty skirts, in heels that elongate my legs and make my ass and tits jut out, in tops that give you unparalleled views of the valley between my breasts and leave my collarbone bare and inviting, in underwear that you like seeing my ass packaged in, in lingerie that you’ll love to rip off. I dress up for you so that your eyes can drink me in and give me that intoxicating sense of power over you. I dress up for you so that I can watch you undress me with your eyes.

I want you to undress me with your eyes. I want you to be that bold. I want you to unashamedly want me, and to flaunt that desire to me, so strongly that I can neither deny nor ignore it.

I want to be powerless in the face of your want.

I want your lust to overwhelm me.

I want not to know when you are going to make that want known. I want you to take me by surprise, push me up against a wall, hurt me with the urgency of your mouth against mine.

I want you to leave me breathless. I love it when you do that. I want you to know that that means that I’m ready and that I’m yours. Always.

I want you to say the words.

“Suck my cock.”

Say them. There is a direct link between my brain and my pussy, and those words, delivered right, will trigger a flood the likes of which you haven’t seen yet. So, I want you to say them. I want you to take my mouth. I want your fingers in my hair. I want you to gather it and pull at it, to push at the back of my head, to direct my movements. I want to feel your cock on my tongue. I want to find it difficult to breathe. I want to choke on your cock, unable to deal with how thick it is, how it fills my mouth and throat up. I want that more than I can express. The urge, the need to be filled up, and to have you start with my mouth, is just too powerful to deny. 

I want you to order me around. To toy with me. To make me wait on your words, unsure of what is to come next. I treasure helplessness. I want to be able to let go, to let you direct the show. I want to know that I can trust you enough to let that happen.

To hear you say the words, sounding for all the world like you mean them.

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Whore.”

I want that rush.

I want you to respect me enough to disrespect me in bed.

Friday, December 2, 2011

I Want You

Is it wrong
that I've been thinking about you
all day long
and that
between curses and muttered imprecations
I've mouthed words
to myself
that I'd rather be whispering to you
slow words
words that burn
words that would make you stew
under pressure
till I came along
and with a flick of the wrist
gave you release.