Bang bong


We meet before the show, a poorly lit bar over a liquid courage. We sit with our thighs touching and my right hand upon your knee in a slow dance to your world. You adjust your legs and allow me full access. Crotchless panties better than sliced bread. My fingers plucking and strumming, you move to the rhythm. We forget ourselves in the moment. We are told to leave. I pay hurriedly and we scamper to my secret fuckpad three blocks away. We barely manage the stairs, our feet interrupted by kissing and heavy petting. I fumble my keys as you chew on my neck and cup my breasts. Tittytwisting with your fingers, my clit throbs and I anticipate throwing you upon the wall fucking your cunt senseless. We fuck everywhere en route to the bed. You stop frequently to suck my cock as if your first communion. I love watching and we pray together.  

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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