Erotica: Meltdown


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I would undress for him at a snail’s pace because that was part of his personality that ached. He took pleasure in time because it’s all he had in the world, particularly when I would stand in front of him, nude and unmistakably transparent, offering every part of this body of mine.

He sat with a calm edge on the black chair taking in the view; an expression throughout his face went about, a sigh of silent relief and reached for me like a sculpture of a goddess with his sensible fingertips. And what stuck out to me the most was just how amused he was by my full breasts and how he would open his mouth and lick his voluminous lips like some kind of wily crook. With packed intention and strange focus in his eyes I felt his burning desire right on the nerves of my nipples. I felt exactly how he wanted me to feel aroused and as if his soaked tongue had already curled up into the pleasure-button at the center of my breast.

I couldn’t help it; this form of teasing enthralled me within its sweet sweet torture. It excited me greatly and the wetness couldn’t be contained, my pussy blossomed more and more and the moisture continued to slip out my outer lips making me both embarrassed and flushed. Why hasn’t he touched me yet but with his look I cried in horrible silence? The skin on my body yearned for his touch, I felt water swarming in my eyes and my heart hammered in every part of my limbs. I couldn’t hide my chest or control my breaths from rising and falling. I became deeply transparent and here I stood in front of his growing magic.

He woke me out my thoughts and sentiments by letting his desire loiter throughout my entire flesh and pinpointed his fire heavily through my bosoms. He took them into his hands and kneaded them like loaf taking turns with both to circulate the blood in its entire dough of roundness than pluck upon my nipples kindly to make them respond in frenzied vibrations. He would pinch them upwards and outwards and down with sincerity to make them flattering straight until they stood like tips of pointed arrows staring at his pupils wanting to assault him.

It’s what he ached for, I could hear it in each time he plucked and pinched me how he moaned agreeably and hummed to the rhythm of his own touch than to the rhythm of my own lively body. His hands opened up similar to a promise and caressed me in every delicate technique imaginable and in every inch, of every line, of every beauty mark, of every developed callus, of every pore and every blemish he left not one undiscovered. I shivered as if this foreplay was my first time and buckled in my knees and became bowlegged. It felt almost helpless, the way my body stood in a fire and my nipples cried out in a fury while my wetness treaded jumpy down my legs. I wanted to scream loud enough for the entire city to hear: PLEASE JUST FUCKING TASTE ME ALREADY!

I gasped and tripped forward, my breasts dangling like chandeliers right before his hazel eyes when he pulled me in, a bear-hug around my lower back inching me closer and into that black chair. His face buried in my breasts, he groaned sensationally as he rubbed his brows, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and chin in between and around them. My eyes widened, he must have heard my call and he slid his thick lips and kissed and sucked my sizzling skin, neck and clavicle. The suction noises he made drove me insane but crazed was how he made sure to avoid my nipples. Why? Why? Why for these pleasure-buttons are hurting in horny ferocity?

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But than he inched me back and stuck out his tongue while his hands held my forearms heavy to keep me in place and he poked my nipple with the tip of it. Poke, poke and poke than switched to the other, poke, poke, poke. I glanced down at him in a state of fascination and wept inside my vagina. My areola shrank in size and his tongue went back on my nipple and varied on multiple pressures and stiff licks to make sure my nipple would move a tad during action.

I almost died surrounded by the commotion of every physical sensation. My body I couldn’t keep from moving but he held down my arms and squeezed the life out of my wrists if I thought about getting out of hand and by this point he sucked slowly outwards letting his tongue twirl as he let go only to come back for more. Than he sat me on his lap in a riding position and he growled a loud moan and voiced, “How could you be this wet for me naughty woman? How could you be comfortable to smear all this pussy juice on my legs? I believe I’m in love with you” and engulfed me he did in a firework make-out session.

To be continued..

-Pennington©

Mammoth Crush: The Girl In Me 2



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There has been countless times where I’ve felt guilty as fuck and couldn’t understand whether I love to fall into his girlfriend’s smile?  Or if I craved to crack her lips to make it go away?  Or punch myself in the face to assist in the erasing of every single corkscrew of a feeling dismayed?  How many times have I felt helpless, backing into a memory triggered and I was where they were, blessed and swayed?  My only intention was being within the same exact space he was in so I could inhale the same breath as he while my armor fell to the ground pressed and unafraid. 

..Stupid.  Oh so stupid!…

Anxiety twisted its daggers and rattled my nerves in the dark pits of my belly over what they do not know.. how I feel.  Except I have good reason to believe different say the times where I blurted real statements that were shrouded by the fact that liquor and barhopping was involved in spontaneity appeal.

I’ve created fantasies by the fortune of a big wheel by what I’ve seen with my own eyes (which may be just as deceiving as a parent’s love and affection for an only child) trying my best not to strain the muscle to my sight when I looked over their pictures and how it hit me thunderous quick like a jab snapped from the words of ancient scripture.  I see an amazing couple who meshes well like calm water into calmer pitcher.  They must have it great like the cheerful sun making love to the sky or how the moon melts it’s glow into the night.   But what do I know since I could only view what the grass smells and tastes like from the other side? 

I caught myself lost in the moment of what I perceive to be fact by obsessing over the imagined. 

They love each other and display it like fashion.  I watch and it makes me sick with backbiting spasms like once where I examined everything one evening at their studio apartment celebrating a party completely disarming, until I saw their bed and I envisioned them cuddling and making sweet love charming.  I plummeted without words or expressions ill to my stomach.  Mostly by the summit of how I actually felt about him.  And why do I feel this way about him?  It’s strong like the religion of gym. 

Sick as I was with an ex lover of mine to get closer to him.  Sick because I pretended to be friends with everyone in the circle to be closer to him.  Sick to my stomach on how it makes me sick to begin with.  I seethe and my heart breaks momentarily wishing I weren’t smart enough to know what feelings meant, just before I come around and snap into my senses again.   FUCK THEM!

-Pennington

Side note:  I dislike doing continuations to a past entry because it’s hard to be in the same exact moment with the same amount of inspiration as I felt during which and when I first created the post.  If part 2 has disappointed you as it has me to a certain degree, the sentence before this one may have had a lot to do with it.  Thanks for reading. 🙂