guidomedic's blog: "~ Darkened Desires ~"

His eyes flow over her message. His gaze narrows as he breaks the three dozen lines down into their components, paragraphs becoming sentences becoming words becoming characters. Satisfied, he reassembles them, absorbing their significance, his mind seeking out the veiled connotations. “Oh, Darkened desire.” The images of her come so readily: face down upon the pristine sheet, writhing as her manicured hand slips downwards between her supple belly and the firm bed, as her fingers find the tender nub between her thighs. He watches as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, thrusting her clitoris back against her own caresses as her full breasts sway back and forth, her taut nipples brushing deliciously against the tight cotton. He hears her sighs of pleasure as surely as if he were in the room with her. Would she truly offer herself to him so readily, so brazenly? Lying on her side, one leg raised, her swollen, soaking cunt his alone to see, to taste, to take? His mind lingers upon the intoxicating illusion. He wants to go to her, right now, to press his hand against her cunt as if to cup her heat. He wants to look into her shining eyes as he strokes her labia, as he eases the soft flesh apart and stirs the wetness within. He’s hardly aware that he’s touching himself; teasing, squeezing, stroking. She falls back against her bed, trembling on the edge, hovering in the heaven/hell of drawn-out fulfilment. What would she think if she saw him standing over her now, his hand working his thick length as he watched her fingering herself to the brink? Would she really want him to bring himself to orgasm, feel the hot, thick threads of his cum as he ejaculated across her feverish fingers? His tongue traces the edges of his mouth as he imagines her frantically bringing herself off, his molten cum melting into hers. It’s the last part of her odessey that brings him to his knees though. He screws his eyes tight as he pictures the flat of her hand coming down against her cunt; gently to begin with, little more than a friendly pat. He sees the shudder of pleasure pass through her body, inspiring her to pat herself again, a rhythmic burst of delicate taps this time. Again, the ripple of pleasure courses through her. He glimpses the gleam of wanton inspiration in her eyes, just before she brings her taut fingers down against her cunt in a short slap. There’s only pleasure in her expression as she slaps herself with increasing verve, again and again and again. She screams when she cums, before she curls herself into a quivering ball, hand still scissored between her wet, shimmering thighs. In the real world, he erupts, and falls. Gasping and reflecting, his mind races. Has he really provoked her to such acts, inspired her to seek out the darker shades within herself? He hopes so. Oh, he so hopes so. “Oh, Darkened desire.” Peace.