it doesn’t take much…

it doesn't take much

It doesn’t take much for me to moan when I feel this slick from my soft that glistens on the inside of my softest of sweet thighs.

I sigh as my clothes lift and separate from my body.
I cum watching your blushing need rush straight to your head.

It doesn’t take much for my jaw to clench when my fingers trace your skin and for my lips – the ones I shaved mere hours ago for you – to begin to swell with dewy drip.

I moan and bite my lip, fingering myself for you.
I cum just thinking about you.

It doesn’t take much for my nipples to harden and my back to arch and my legs to spread and my ass to lift and my clit to fill and thrum and more moaning more more more I say in whispers, just like I breathlessly adore your name.

I gasp touching myself for you.
I cum remembering you.

Fuck.
I cum and cum and cum for you.

under pressure…

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Sitting there, looking into the vacant eyes of overworked suits, food-fused stollers, and academic neglect, your spine shivers. Not from cold, though with each waft of air something certainly stirs within you. This day, you cannot align yourself with the abundance of barely-beating hearts. Despite your own years of wear and tear, she has gifted you, down to each nerve, with life.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Thoughts of her sustain you. You can smell her everywhere. You rest your head on the window, close your eyes, and with the everyday gestures of a man, you secretly sniff your collar, the cuff of your jacket, the palm of your hand, your finger… tips. She is still there. Your breath catches with heated reminiscence. There is room for more inside. There is this. This pressure she is… is intense. Your cock tingles and aches to splurge.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

The train carries you closer to her even when you’ve just left, the long ride redolent of each delicious moan you’ve shared. Her soft mounds and curves await you behind closed doors; she is always open for you. She’s not the first who would do anything for you but she is waiting, she is always waiting, has always been waiting and your balls roil with anticipation, your suckable, full cock tips its head and quickens at the thot. No, you cannot commiserate with the dearth of listless grey lives around you. She has claimed you and you are forever changed.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Open and close.
Open.
Close.

Open…

L
– Lola Moi –