Wednesday, October 14, 2009
This girl is biting my lower lip so hard that I’m concerned it might tear. She’s also pulling my hair with one hand and trying to flay the skin from my back with the other. The women have made a competition of leaving claw marks on our backs. It’s beginning to lose its tone of playfulness, and it’s becoming a subtly nasty game. Then he and I have to wear these markings of the women’s ownership on our backs. It all hurts. Not pleasant sexual hurting (except for the hair-pulling, which I love tremendously), but actual painful hurting. At the same time, there is cool spring morning air coming through the open window. It’s ventilating our tangled mess of limbs, and feels cold against the back of my balls and crotch. It’s nice, and almost offsets all of the pain caused by her intense climax. She fucks completely, like she’s trying to pull me through her. She fucks like there’s nothing else in the world she’d rather be doing. It’s absolutely wonderful. She fucks like it’s going to solve something, though at times I suspect it might be having the reverse effect.