Hearts Of Glass💔🥀 [completed]

50: Birthday Pleasure

Digital Daggers- I Surrender

"Locked in, buried under my skin
Riding on the whispers, restless in the wind
Hunted, I can feel it coming
Keep me under cover in what could of been
Sweet despair feel you devour me
Silently, oh won't you carry me
Home
Taken down I give into what I can't disguise
I surrender, I surrender"

Maia

Back in our room, he stood behind me. His arms on my chest. We were still wet from the rain earlier, which made things more interesting.

"Tonight, I want to make love to you so hard you'll forget your own name." He said.

When he kissed me my brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout my entire body. After that I was addicted, I couldn't bare not to be with him and I could barely breathe when he was around. Those kisses were my salvation and my torment. I lived for them and I would die with the memory of them on my lips. I dedicated my life to being with him from the moment of that first kiss, for I knew that if I lost him I would lose myself. He was the half that made me whole.

Unexpectedly, his hand drifted to my hip. It settled there and pulled me closer. I inhaled sharply. I was against his warm chest, chiseled to perfection. Must he be so perfect? I splayed my hand against it, intending to arouse him but instead I left it there. His breathing quickened as did mine. He began nuzzling my neck with delicate kisses. So faint, they were whispers. I urged myself to push away, but couldn't. My limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. My head was angled slightly to the side as he started taking over.

The next thing I knew, he had slammed his body against mine and nearly knocked all wind from my lungs.
I hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of my lips and, at my grant of access, delved inside my mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of chocolate cake being exchanged in the intermingling of our billowing breaths. My arms reached up and tangled around his thick, strong neck. In an instant I had pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against my own, before I drew back into his lips. I could nearly feel the slight burn of the wine as it rolled off my tongue and seeped down my throat with every push of his tongue against mine.

So that was our love making process. Wordless, blinkered, a night time thing, a dream thing. There were reasons on my side for this as well. Whatever it was that I was, was best revealed slowly, in flattering light. Which meant not much light at all. Besides, that's the way it goes in adolescence. You try things out in the dark. You get drunk or stoned and extemporize. It's a kind of fugue state, anyway, early sex. Before the routine sets in, or the love. Back when the groping is largely anonymous. Sandbox sex. It starts in the teens and lasts until twenty or twenty-one. It's all about learning to share. It's about sharing your toys and secrets but for Cade and I there had to be no more secrets. Just naked bodies and passion. And with this him and I will last longer than just twenty-one.

When I climbed on top of his object he would almost vanish. I would move to accommodate him, spreading my legs or throwing an arm around my back. I swam up to the surface of consciousness before diving again. My eyelids fluttered. A responsiveness entered my body, a flex of abdomen in rhythm with mine, his head thrown back to offer up my throat. I waited for more. I wanted him to acknowledge what we were doing, but I was scared, too.
So the sleek dolphin rose, leapt through the ring of my legs, and disappeared again, leaving me bobbing, trying to keep my balance. Everything was wet down there. From me or him I didn't know. He laid his head on my chest beneath the bunched-up-vest. The hair there was very sparse. Looking closer, I saw that it was his manhood, raised behind my head. My hand was completely awake. It clenched and unclenched, siphoning all the ecstasy from my body into its secret flowerings.

What the object and I did together was played out under these loose rules. We weren't too scrupulous about the details. What pressed on our attention was that it was happening, sex was happening. That was the great fact. How it happened exactly, what went where, was secondary. Plus, we didn't have much to compare it to. Everytime it gets better and better.

As far as the crocus was concerned, it wasn't so much a piece of me as something we discovered and enjoyed together. The blooming of the crocus was an impersonal phenomenon. It was a kind of hook that fastened us together, more a stimulant to the object's outer parts than a penetration of my inner. But, apparently, effective enough. Because after the first few nights, we were both eager for it. Eager, that is, while ostensibly remaining unconscious. As he hugged me, as we languorously shifted and knotted, the object's attitudes of insensibility included favorable positioning. Nothing was made ready or caressed. Nothing was aimed. But practice brought about a fluid gymnastics to our sleep couplings. I moved under him as a sleeping girl might while being ravished by an incubus. I was like somebody having a dirty dream, confusing my pillow for a lover.

Sometimes, before or afterward, I switched on the bedside lamp. He pulled my bra up as far as it would go and slid my underpants down below my knees. And then I lay there, letting my eyes have their fill. What else compares? Gold filings shifted around the magnet of my navel. My ribs were as thin as candy canes. The spread of my hips, so different from his, looked like a bowl offering up red fruit. And then there was his favorite spot, the place where my ribcage softened into breast, the smooth, white dune there.

Countless runs of going in and out gave room for moaning, scratching his back and demanding for more. Then climax came and I breathed heavily into his neck. As though I was letting him breathe my air.

"Whats your name?"

I couldn't answer. The heat of what had just happened took over me.

I turned the light off. I pressed against him. He took the backs of my thighs in his hands, adjusting my legs around his waist. He reached under me. He brought me up to him. And then my body, like a cathedral, broke out into ringing. The hunchback in the belfry had jumped and was swinging madly on the rope.

Finally we were out and we slept beside one another.

"Thanks for satisfying my birthday wishes for pleasure."