He Moved In Me

The world I knew turned black as coal. I floated in an island-like ecstasy, dancing on a thin line of pleasure and pain, wondering if I were to fall, would this prince of passion swallow me whole with his lust ... would he capture me as he had captured my heart and captivated my body?

From far away, I heard the strange cries of a woman, unfamiliar to me - an invited plea for freedom; a cry of healing, soothing an aching feminine need.

Her voice comforted me, a quiet echo.

As she cried out, a hard rock inside me melted.  

Animal-instinct told me the man who delivered the strange woman from the soreness in her body and soul, had also delivered me from my passion, which had always seemed so greedy.  

I wanted to thank him; for her and for me. I wanted to kiss his face - all of it; his eyes, each cheek, taste his lips, and bury myself in his neck; in his shoulders; whatever place I could find open to me. I wanted him to know what he'd done with his mysterious entrapment.  

In a miniscule of time, I heard soft whispered moans. The cries sounding so distant and strange, were not strange at all; and neither was the woman made aching sounds of pleasure.  

Her moaning was not from someone I didn't know. Stunned and confused I realized those delicious sounds of passion were from me. From me! They came from inside me.

I thought I was only a listener; a mere member of her audience, so fortunate to witness such freedom. But I was wrong.  

Astonished at this comfort I felt, I realized it was also my own. My very own! Not comfort for a stranger, but for me. I felt no longer trapped within hollow, fragile bones; or encumbered by my flesh - bone and flesh which had seemed so impossible to satisfy. My body and mind were unleashed and free. I had been given a gift - a pardon of care. I was free to feel lust and desire; loosed to feel the selfishness urging me toward my completion; urges which endlessly and wickedly twisted and wrenched away at me.  

In this fury of freedom, I wanted to feel the release of my hunger. I was overwhelmed by a need to know the full power of my lust. More than ever before, I knew now, that the joy only passion provides, awaited me. Surrounding me, was eager anticipation. I would at last be satisfied.  

Freedom was now mine to give. This peaked my curiosity even more. I felt it's fervor and became feverishly hot, rather than sated and calm. I struggled to return to the place where I belonged.  

The rock of pain had melted inside me, and flowed all around me, taking me back to the time and space of my rescue, like a river - a river of endings.  

I laid my head on a hard, cool surface. I don't know what it was. I didn't care. I was wet, soaked, and drenched from the top of my head - golden curls, tousled, thick and deep, unruly ... to the whole length of long, lean legs, ripe with need, and worn from gripping my body to another.  

I felt someone - the thief of my heart. His body was so wet and so slick, as he collapsed close to me. Yet he was struggling to hold me, as if he wanted me to know he hadn't forgotten me, though he seemed out of his mind, dizzy and drained.  

He had heard my sobs, like whispers, coming from unfamiliar places - places inside me. Rubbing my shoulders and back, he caressed me, asking me if I was ok.  

All I could manage was a quiet laugh, still so deep in thought, and trying to capture every feeling my body was experiencing. Any sounds I made were just a mere attempt to answer him, in any way I could. 

Finally, I managed to speak,

"I'm ok ... I guess. I just didn't know that's what I wanted. I didn't know I needed such an avalanche of pleasure".  

But it was much more than that - more like raw physical ecstasy. My body begged for an ocean of orgasms. I wanted to be overcome by him, this lover of my body - I wanted to lose control. I needed all of those spasms and quakes and trembles I had experienced. I wanted every one of them and I asked for all of them; for all of him - in so many ways.  

He seemed more relieved now, and continued to touch me; to arouse me in a different way. Turning me around to face him, he smiled and pulled me close to him.  

Looking so intently at me, he examined my face as if he wanted to memorize everything about me. He was searching my eyes with telescopic lenses, boring new valleys and canyons, as big as my body and soul could bear. For what seemed like such a long time, he watched me; my face; my body; everything about me.  

Forever was passing too quickly, I thought, with a sigh of resolution, knowing nothing like the sexual escapade I had just experienced could last forever - the fuck of all fucks, so sensual it was almost traumatic ... and I loved every minute of it ... every minute I could remember.  

Never had I met a man's probing, thrust for thrust, as he pummeled my drenched, animal-like pussy, like I had mated with this man; devouring his hard cock as he impaled me with his slick rod over and over again.  

Watching him, I could tell something new and exciting was on his mind.  

His words were coarse and worn, yet he seemed revived and relieved of a heavy weight. He asked me ... no, he told me,

"Now, let me make love to you the way I've always wanted to. You know there will never be another time like this".  

Was he was right? I wasn't sure. I knew, and I was thankful he was aware of what we'd just done - that what happened between us was a once in a lifetime fuck; yet it was only a priming for the explosion of sex and physical greed between us, with enough lust and pleasure to last a million lifetimes; just waiting for our taking.  

Tired and weak, I was wasted. It didn't matter. Every bone and muscle in my body; every corner of my mind; every soft place in my heart said yes.  

Oh hell yes.  

Without so much as a nod of my head, he gathered me like a bundle of soft, lazy cotton in his arms, and kissed me deeper and more passionately than anything I'd ever experienced; his lips bearing promises of coital bliss; fucking so primal I could smell and taste it; promises of persistent and demanding love-making.  

Yet a more tender kiss, I'd never known.  

Once again my body began to wake up. Places all over me and inside me; places I thought were lost and hidden in me became aroused even more than I imagined.

So there ... right there on the floor - hard or soft, rough or smooth - I can't remember - amidst the sweat of our lust, the tears of our need, the mixture of our juices - fueled and set free by our passion, he entered me ... he entered me with fury and perfection once again, so easily; so adept he was, never taking his eyes from mine.  

Over and over again, he moved in me, making his way deeper and deeper inside me - pressure building in me ... and in him. 

With determination, he moved fiercely in me - burrowing his cock so hard in my slick cleft, brimming, swimming with come.  

His movements were never ending.  

He moved in me slowly, then faster and shallow, constantly changing ... deeper and deeper still, until his face grimaced with pleasured agony - my pussy glistening with fine wine; hidden treasure I was to him.

His cock mined me for gold, and I gave it to him. With every coil of his body, I was there, wrapped around him.

Each ravenous lunge he took, I returned it to him, to take all of him in.

I knew his agony; his pleasure, because I felt the same pleasure, the same agony, the same torture of desire building inside me.  

Stopping and beginning again, he teased and taunted me - this ultimate fuck; this ride of all rides we were on, would last forever, because he wanted it to. Because I wanted it to. I didn't want this fantastic trip of our coming ... coming together, waves and waves of after-shock, to end ... ever.

So shallow he probed and navigated me with his bursting cock; finding more places inside the throbbing walls of my pussy to press and revive. More and more shallow, he became - working his stiff rod inside me; around me; over me; in and out, and yet still ... he watched me. With telescopic eyes he bore through my mind, and with a tool as hard as steel he tunneled my body.

I wondered if he knew I felt as though my pussy wanted to suck him inside me, and drain him of every ounce of come his body would produce for me.  

Stay in control, I told myself.

Yet then came his golden finale. His timing was cruel, it was so perfectly planned. His body read me, like a map to his future.

His hands and fingers began weaving and working magic upon my swollen and aching clit; I was so tender and responsive to his touch.

I thought I could stay in control ... I tried ... I tried so hard, but no, the ache; the tender and tortuous pain was pure and relentless. It wouldn't let go of me. I didn't want to be free of this, and neither did he.  

He refused to separate himself from me. The prince with telescopic eyes who could see through my soul; the man who carried ecstasy in his loins to unleash upon me in wonder, and in lust and passion; the lover who moved in me, and agonized over me in my own gripping agony; the thief of my stolen heart, who agonizes over me now, wondering where I'm at; wondering who I am; watching for golden curls and blue, clear eyes - wide and open.  

Just as I wonder; I watch for him as well, for his invasion into my private dreams and hidden worlds ... remembering.

He moves in me, still, as I await the entrance of his arrival in my life, when I will never hunger again.
 

Mariah Wyatt