Sin & Savior

CHAPTER 6, PART 1

Scarlett had to control herself to keep from screaming, and — even then — it wasn't out of fear or facilitation. She couldn't fathom what had occurred, but it took everything in her not to ask permission to climb inside of that car, tear the panties open above her pussy, bend her back outright, enthusiastically climb on top of him, and flat-out impale herself on every throbbing, aching, rock-solid inch of him presented, pulsating, and still covered in his cum. Her hole was sopping, and sloppy wet: her thoughts were scrambled, and — worse yet — she could not fight back her thoughts of this beautiful man, splayed about his car-seat, spilling his seed all over the landscape without wishing it was safe inside of her instead.

Scarlett had never been in love: she was, as all the books she'd read on the subject in past history would suggest, a stereotypical "Aromantic": somebody that possessed little if any urge or interest toward romantic relationships, but that was still both inclined and overtaken by constant, powerful urges toward sexuality. The strength of this hypersexuality, Dr. Nash inferred, was rooted in the basis of her biochemistry. As was the nature of her aromanticism. But if one thing's for sure, and two things for certain:

Scarlett was in the racket for a full-fledged helping of every stroke of what sat before her in this car, hot, unburdened by guilt or shame, and that set every nerve inside of her body aflame. Before she knew what she was doing: her hand had spider-walked itself down beneath her jersey into her shorts, negotiated entry with her panties, and spiked her digits themselves unceremoniously into the wettest, warmest parts of her strong, but supple body. She stood there, staring at him through the darkened window: eyeballing his cock, and studying his features as she fingered herself: expertly handling her clitoris while measuring her unblinking eye contact. He was strong, she could tell. Physically powerful, with a carved jawline, thick beard, even thicker rod, and his response to her presence immediately inclined her into the knowledge that he was the kind of man who knows what he wants, and knows how to get it: the kind she fancied the most.

Her soft moans exited her throat, and she pressed her breasts against the window as her breath fogged the exterior glass, thirsty for a closer look at what was happening inside. This man had still refused to do anything but stare at her while his hand transmogrified itself into an actuating piston: jacking his own orgasm all over his beautiful length while she stared into his own eyes completely transfixed by her longing to know more about who he was. Her fingers pelted her G-Spot, having slipped a second hand inside that she used with an ingratiating thumb and forefinger to pinch her own clitoris with reckless abandon into an elysium of ecstacy while she swirled 2 fingers, and then a 3rd, against the aching ribs of her walls. She did not even know his name, but she knew she wanted to fuck him more than she wanted to breathe: evidenced by the way the air hitched in her throat, and the oxygen stilled around her as she neared closer and closer to her inevitable orgasm.

He rolled down the window, daring her to do anything, and she graciously accepted this Silent challenge, sticking two of the fingers of her right hand into his mouth, and encircling them onto his tongue, allowing him to taste her as her moans she'd been fighting herself to muffle were nearing krakatoan eruption in their attempts to exit her vocal chords out of her throat, and into the mid-day heat. He howled a guttural urge, chanting and biting her fingers as his own 2nd orgasm leapt its way out of the head of his cock, and her own orgasm followed his at the sight of it: pouring and spilling out onto the asphalt and his car door as she hungrily furrowed her palm out of his mouth and onto his dick, beating him off the rest of the way as she squirted in ancient tongue. As she went to slide her fingers back inside of herself: desperate to touch her own womb and reach new heavens: she heard a call from the far southwestern side of the lot. "REEEEEEDDDDD!!!! PRACTICE IS NOT OVER YET, COACH SAID HURRY THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK IN HERE!!!"

She sprinted off towards the University hall, still covered in sweat and her own sin: wiping off the remnants of his musky scent and thick ejaculate from her hands onto the back of her jersey. As she did so: she could only feel one thing — exhilaration.Whoever this man was: she knew herself. Her beauty, her bounty, her raging waters, and she knew for certain that he would return for her. It was simply a matter of time. 

Journal Entry #86

In unearthing you:

I am returning that which no longer serves me back to soil. The burial...is a quiet rebellion.

...On loving the mountain:

I have learned, so quickly, to let my every breath be burnt offering for THIS woman

Who would atlas the weight of my world along her backbone.

Extraterrestrial being. Incalculable cosmic entity.

Your beating heart, the wind.

This poetry: your body.

Dear mountainous woman.

Earth mother. Gaia, corporeal.

Hips, and hair, and fire

Riot of sunlight,

Affirmation of my existence.

Crimson dreamer.

Elaborate blood possibility, making,

and unmaking itself.

The predation of written language.

Home of hieroglyph, of hymnal, of my heart

Shattered daybreak. Lying sunrise.

How you keep horizon so broken...

And so open.

Molotov cocktail, petrol bomb,

Fortified and stalwart.

Rank, and guard.

The impossibility of unloved names,

...Secret enclave.

Root of it all.

Palms, yoked, from sternum, to stomach..

Tall, holy, impossibly cambered woman:

Your mouth is a bridge to elysium,

with many ways to cross.

Speak me into eternity along your pathways of ancestral tongue.

...Such ceaseless power.

How you bring man back to nature, and nature back into itself.

I will long for the womb from whence I came, then bury in you, instead.

Sweet, ageless bastion.

Winded martyr.

The brick and mortar's becoming.

You are my rock....

You are my fortress.

And Oh.....how I'm in anticipation...of the climb.