To take her from behind, her angelic face pressed into the headboard of her virgin bed, her hair tight in my grasp weaving through all my fingers to never lose hold as I’m pulling on it viciously; the threshold of pain and pleasure bleaching.

Ripping her skirts so I can take her there and then as my impatience infects every pore. My ears are filling with her desperate cries and the futile scratching of her manicured nails against the wood trying to get away from this blissful rapture derived of my sweet loving dominance, making her take enlightenment.

And then, I feel the beginnings of change wriggle through her, still trapped under my weight. The conscious realization that there is no getting back what has been taken, her lurching regret twisting into an absurd paradoxical gratitude. She is becoming attached; the love is growing as her fear fades into sliding back onto my cock with an animalistic ferocity.

My fingers are digging into her love handles

[who said size 16 was a bad thing?]

Between sopping thighs and drooling mouths, the walls echo her denouncing moans ranging from
“Fuck me!” to calling out for a divine intelligence.

[ignore the “stop!” because it’s a cruel deception.]

And who am I to deny her? I give her all that I can, ignoring the waterfall of sweat running down my spine, our heavy breaths mocking asthmatics, toes curling, and all the blood draining from my mind and filtering to incubate my future children. I am throbbing insatiably.

My eyes are starting to roll back, and I can’t stop groaning. I’m kissing her skin in a surge of desperation to hide the fact that in this moment her submissive behavior is the collar around my neck, and that she is the one who is really in control.

Let her secret longing be known, happily correspondent to mine.