Q:Post a selfie. I think about you. A lot.
Sorry. But you already know the answer to this one. :)
No selfies. No real details out in the big bad world.
My icon is me though. That is my own actual personal physically attached hand. I will admit it was taken a while ago so I can’t guarantee it is a true representation of my current hand. But it is probably about as close as we are going to get.
But I’m glad the words have stuck with you and make you think about them.
Q:Elegantly modest. I like that.
Glad you enjoyed the reply. I actually really rather like the word elegant, it has a certain historical panache to it that is a pleasing departure to today’s brash world.
Having said that although it might relate to my words, I’m not so convinced that it totally applies to me.
But I think I probably can be as the need arises.
Q:My hazel eyed, slightly out of condition middle aged sexy...I mean very sexy writer. I miss you. You're taking this long so I'm expecting a book.
I’m afraid you shouldn’t expect some great opus because of this prolonged absence.
My words are missing at the moment and are remaining elusive. I am working to find them again but the little buggers are far too good at hiding.
And the last thing I want to do is to make the first thing I produce after all this time a poor example of what I can do.
The whole culture is telling you to hurry, while the art tells you to take your time. Always listen to the art.
Q:What color are your eyes? I know I know it's personal information...off limits right? But come on give a girl a clue! Ok fine how about your height? We can't possibly deduce who you are by these common traits
This will be the last ask answered for a while as I’ve turned off Ask/Submit while I’m away but this was here before I turned it all off.
I was going to say piercing blue eyes, 6’3”, strong jawline outlined by a fine beard and athletic build adorned by tattoos as that is what to some the perfect stereo-type would be to fulfill the ideal fantasy of brain and body.
Then I wondered if saying plain old brown, 5’2” and morbidly obese would make a difference to how the writing and words were perceived? Would it matter who was behind the words?
However both answers seemed really quite churlish to a simple question of curiosity. It is probably more reflective of my current mood than what I really think, an indication of why I need to be away for a while.
As I’ve said before I’d rather the words stood on their own rather than be attached to any idea of me. Anyway the reality is boringly average - Hazel eyes, 5’10”, slightly out of condition middle aged man.
I need to go and lose myself amongst the bookshelves for a while, I will be sometime. I don’t know when or if I will be back.
But there are things I need to learn there before I will be ready to return.
Thank you to those who have been a friend while I have been here. I hope to come back at some point.
The Dirty Romantic
"NOTHING….is becoming rare and precious.
Everything is hype, noise, desire, desperation, speed and greed. We in the modern world are good at ‘doing,’ but anemic at ‘being.’
Entertainment, busy-ness, texting while walking or even driving…
'Efficiency’ is an addictive myth based on our fidgety fear of opening up. We can not ‘do’ properly until we can, first, ‘be’ fully.
Practice doing nothing - then - we can accomplish…ANYTHING.”
It is time to do nothing here in the hope of achieving something important elsewhere.
The only way you will ever awaken is through silence, not through analyzation of facts.
Not by sorting out good and bad, but through simple silence, letting go.
Letting go of all thoughts, all the hurts, all the dogmas and concepts.
Letting go of these things daily.
Q:Hey, it's me, I'm the blog that submitted a story to you forever ago! (I can't even remember it that well myself, but I remember the male character getting excited from the sound of his belt hitting the floor.) I made another just to submit it, just because I was too shy to submit it from my actual blog. I hope you remember. I haven't read any of your work in a long while, and want to personally compliment you and your writing. You've left me sopping tonight! Keep writing, you Dirty Romantic!
Thank you for the note and yes I do remember that story - it’s still posted somewhere on the archive of this blog.
I’m pleased you’ve returned and I’m glad you still enjoy the work and it has such a powerful affect. It’s sort of the point to be honest and I wouldn’t be doing my job if it didn’t! But it’s always good to hear.
Feel free to submit your other story - if you already have, I didn’t receive anything so perhaps Tumblr ate it.
Thanks again for taking the time to tell me, I really appreciate it.
Q:I want to rub my pussy into you. I got horny reading your post. Let me grind against you. 💋💋💋
That’s very nice of you to say so and I’m glad the story had such an impact.
However I would need to get to know you better before any pussy grinding went on.
I’m rather discerning about the person associated with the pussy and who gets to grind me I’m afraid.
Finishing work late, he dropped into a random bar with a need to blow off steam. He was aware he was overdressed for the bar. Dressed in a tailoured suit, he stood out among the jeans and t-shirts but frankly he didn’t care. He needed a drink. Stubble and slightly messy short wavy brown hair testament to a crap day and an even worse week. As far as he was concerned a drink was the solution.
With a drink in hand he scanned the rest of the bar, soaking up the noise and relaxing into the chilled spring vibe. A myriad of faces flash by, until one face in particular stopped him in his tracks. Standing with a group of friends, she stood out, something caught and held his attention. He wasn’t sure exactly what, perhaps the way she held her head, her easy laugh or the way her dark hair fell around her shoulders. As he studied her, she glanced across, he felt a pang of desire and he returned the look and held it. She quickly flicked her eyes away but then straight back again and he matched her look, held just a little longer than a passing glance. Finally he returned his attention to his drink.
Tonight was a chance to relax with her best friends, live a little on the wild side and relieve the boredom. This was just a brief rowdy stop, a quick drink to warm them up for the rest of the night before moving on. She knew her outfit matched with her favourite Gucci heels were going to draw attention in a place like this. She wasn’t wrong.
She wasn’t looking for anything, not here at least, and yet there was one guy who caught her eye as she looked around. She was instantly intrigued by what she saw, he seemed out of place after all the cheaply dressed boys. What surprised her most was how she reacted to his look, she grew flush and looked away quickly, embarrassed by her instant physical response to him. But she wanted more, greedily needing to look again. As she glanced his way again, he held her gaze and the room suddenly dropped away.
It was his eyes, good god, she couldn’t remember when someone had really looked at her like that. She felt her insides churn, her stomach tighten and felt a physical surge rush through her body when he suddenly looked away. The impact was like a power cut, leaving her craving more. She couldn’t believe the strength of her reaction but she took the opportunity to really take him in while he brought his drink to his lip. She was still trying to understand what had just happened when her friends brought her back to their conversation and she was laughing instantly.
When she looked across again he was gone, She was surprised by the disappointment she felt and quickly tried to brush those thoughts away. But as she turned back to her friends, the velvety tones of an English accent rolled through her. When she realised it was him, talking to her best friend, she was confused by her mixed reactions, a pang of jealousy and the sudden desire between her legs.
He knew that a few drinks were not going to satisfy his needs any more and he had a plan to get what he wanted. As he spoke to the pretty girl in front of him, he dismissed the vague ‘you bastard’ thoughts that ran through the back of his mind. What the hell, he loved being a charming bastard when it suited.
She was charming, funny, beautiful in fact but there was no spark for him. Even if there had been he wouldn’t have been interested, she was merely the stepping stone to his prize. And it was then that he caught her eye again, he smiled openly.
All the while he continued to talk to her friend, he glanced over at her. She was his reason for being there, for starting the conversation in the first place. But despite the fleeting glances, she turned away. Standing there intrigued by this woman, is she not interested or just playing it coy?
The jealousy eats away as she watches him talking to her friend, it maddens her, upset that a total stranger has managed to stir so much emotion within her. She makes a decision, determined to put him out of her mind.
Yet she feels compelled to glance over at him, continuing to study him. She notices more details, the heavy watch peaking out of the cuffed sleeve. She had always been a sucker for the way the heavy metal would set off a man’s wrist, something powerful in it that she always reacted to, especially when he had his hands on her body. The stubble that shadows his jaw makes her heart race, unbidden she imagines the feel of it against her neck, on her breast and grazing the soft skin of her legs.
These thoughts make her aware of how she is instinctively squeezing her thighs together, the heat reminding her that this man is garnering the attention of her best friend. Again, annoyed with herself, she tries to convince herself that there are several other men who are seeking her attention and she should reciprocate their advances instead of daydreaming about him. The banter between desire and pride goes on within her mind, quickly killing her buzz.
Suddenly she is brought out of her introspection. He is sitting next to her and she falters again, taken aback. She had not been paying attention as to why he is now here and she remains guarded, unsure of this man’s motives. Was he just trying his hand at all the women at the table, had he failed with her friend and was now on to the next - was he that stupid, that brazen?
She tries to retain a neutral expression but as she stares at his face, she can’t help but notice his mouth. Despite of herself, she is fantasising about how it would feel on hers. She kicks herself, annoyed at her body is reacting so harshly to the thought.
Throughout the exchange of looks, he had taken in her figure, the firm breasts lovingly outlined by the black silk shirt, a small gap whispering at what was held beneath. The athletic build and hips framed by the pencil skirt. But it is the shoes which have him, He had always been weak for a woman in killer heels, and these are were damn near fatal. He tries to work out if her legs are clad in stockings and decides based on the shoes that they are. All of this building his desire for her.
And then he has his chance, as his current partner is interrupted by one of the group, he takes the opportunity to move across to her.
'Hi, I hope you don't think me forward but I was just admiring your shoes.'
While he waits for a response, he takes the chance to once again hold her gaze, trying to read the look on her face, hoping the sudden flush in your cheeks is not anger. But she gives so little away, answering his questions with the minimum of words, barely holding his gaze, battering his confidence.
Sitting so close he can see how truly pretty she is, her eyes are stunning behind the glasses. Her face is framed by a mane of dark hair, calling even more attention to those eyes. And his wicked mind is now ahead of him, creating clichéd images of sexy secretaries, hair cascading down a sleek back shaking it out as she tips her glasses down to stare at him knowingly with those deep brown eyes.
He does his best to control his imagination but it continues to run amok with its flights of fancy. The secretary of his fantasy now on her knees, looking up at him with those big eyes behind her glasses, his suit open at the fly, her mouth wrapped around his cock.
With a snap he pulls himself back to the now, a decision made. He realises he could lose the moment, standing there all evening playing pleasantries. Time to go for broke. He leans forward, placing one hand on her forearm another lightly brushing her thigh. Placing his mouth close to her ear.
'I know you're annoyed at me, that I spoke to your friend first, but I only did that to get your attention. So I could get close to you, you seemed aloof. '
He sits back but leaves his hand resting lightly on her arm, he can feel the hairs rise up and the flesh goosebumps at his words. Desire rises in him, she smelt good, very good. Her hair had been so soft against his face. His need to bury himself within that hair, to smell her more deeply has grown with the proximity to her.
Noticing nothing in the room but her, his attention solely on her, watching every movement of her face, her eyes trying to anticipate the response.
She struggles to keep her composure and mask in place. Not daring to look into his eyes for too long, sure that he will see the lust and weakness pooling in her. She wants him now. But the reaction is too strong too immediate, it frightens her. She fights it.
But when touches her for the first time, it sends a current coursing through her body. She has to wrestle her body’s urge to pounce on him, there and then. Suddenly she realises that she has not even heard the words that have been softly spoke against her cheek. His scent, wraps her in a hazy thirst and the musky tones quickens her breathing.
His expectant look snaps her back to the now, flustered, not knowing how to respond. How does she confess that she is so taken by this man and his touch or that his velvet words have escaped her? So, she does the only thing she can think of. She leans in to him, pressing her chest against his taking his ear lobe into her mouth….
The unexpected touch, teeth on his ear, the reaction goes straight to his cock.. Only to get harder as she continues to breath on his ear. Her reluctance to speak for some strange reason, making this all the more intense, turning him on even more.
In response his hand moves up her thigh, he feels her tense beneath his touch and then she submits to his pressure. He moves his hand higher, fingers touching the soft flesh above her stocking tops. He brushes along her soft skin and grazes her panties with a fingertip, the dampness of the material betraying her instantly.
He feels her suddenly freeze again and realises that they have lost themselves but are still surrounded by her friends.
'Come with me now' he whispers.
He takes her hand lbut he can sense the internal fight raging. He presses his hand to hers, bending forward to look at her one more time.
'Now' he commands, just once but loud enough for her to understand that this is not a request.
Letting go of her hand, he turns and walks out of the bar. Not sure if she will follow or not. He realises that he needs her to follow him. He is greedy for her, wanting her to himself, to consume her.
The movement of his hand leaves a trail of heat on her flesh. her initial reaction is to pull away, but she doesn’t, embracing it instead. It makes her feel whole, as if it is what she has been missing for far too long.
When his fingers graze her lace panties, the heat is replaced with a burning fire. At first it alarms her, fearing it will consume her, that he will engulf her completely. As he whispers his demands, his accent causes her nipples to harden, her internal struggle raging on.
Her hand in his, eyes on his. She can now see the lust and fire reflected back at her.
And then the command “Now” said with a firmness and a gruffness that makes her cunt swell. And as suddenly, thrown in to torment, her heart stops as he drops her hand, turning away and leaving her, the door swinging in his wake.
It feels like forever before she comes to her senses enough to react. Eventually, she grabs her purse, saying quick good-byes and whispered apologies to the puzzled faces of her friends. And she is there, trailing after him, knowing she can not let him walk away from her. Not to walk out of this bar without her, walk out of her life - not now. Not with the fire he has ignited raging in her.
He is waiting outside in the fresh night air. On a normal night he would have enjoyed the sensation, but now he is tense, he hasn’t looked back,not daring to tempt fate. The seconds tick past like hours, his heart pumping, the blood pounding in his ears.
For all the bravado he’d never done this before, business trips were normally a boring routine of airport lounges, meeting rooms and dull hotels. If it wasn’t for the cancelled flight he wouldn’t have even been in the bar.
While he waits, he wonders why he chose to make a play for this woman. This was so far from his normal behaviour, in fact this is the first time he’d ever approached someone in a bar like this. And he had never been this brazen but there was some animal need in him right now, triggered by her that needed to be fed.
As the seconds turn in to minutes his ardour turns to regret, maybe he read the signals wrong, the fire and desire in her eyes something else, contempt perhaps. And if she didn’t walk through that door in a moment it was just another boring night in a faceless hotel room, accompanied only by the regrets of what could have been.
But then she steps through the door, looking every bit as stunning in the street-lights as when she first caught his attention laughing so easily with her friends.
He watches her leave the bar moving with a fluid grace, her hips swinging with a hypnotic gait beneath the tight skirt. She scans the street and finally finds him standing just across from the entrance. She is still giving nothing away as she slowly walk towards him, possibly only following him to tear him a strip for being so arrogant. To then turn on her heel and leave him standing there.
As he watches he realises that she has no idea that just the way she holds herself and moves was having a powerful effect on him. She finally faces him, pushing her hair back from her face, an unconscious movement, exposing a long, slender neck and then she smiles. A smile that sends fire to his belly and a screaming lust through his head.
He steps forward, saying nothing, gently cupping her face in his hands, fingers lacing through her hair. He holds her for a moment, looking in to her eyes and he sees his desire staring back. His mouth moves to hers but hesitates, the briefest of touches of his lips to hers. He hovers there feeling the warm breath on his lips.
A final glance into those deep brown eyes and he plunges in, his mouth covering hers, her tongue responding in equal measure to his. She moves in towards him, her body pressing against his, nipples hard against him, her warmth outshining the chill of the night.
His hand traces down her back pressing her to him, holding the small of her back, locking them together. Held like that he loses himself to the moment and focus only on the woman in his arms, every sense attuned to the responses to his movements. She tastes sweet and he knows he will need to taste her completely, to consume her.
He slowly breaks from the embrace and once again takes her hand,
'Come with me'…
As she walks through the doors, searching for him, she is filled with relief as she finds him positioned across the street.
She forces herself to cross to him at a leisurely pace, giving herself time to calm her breathing and push down her nerves. The internal banter that was loud and overwhelming just moments ago, is silent. She is resolved, resolute. She wants to be his tonight. No, she needs to be his tonight.
As she crosses the street, she feels the weight of his eyes on her, appraising. She knows she is guilty of doing the same. His posture, confident and determined even from this distance, is sexy and so alluring.
Everything about him screams to a base need in her. Damn had this man read the most wicked recesses of her mind. Had he been a voyeur to her lonely, late night fantasies? The tailored suit, expensive shoes has her mind plummeting into the gutter with thoughts of where else on his body he might pay such attention to detail.
Finally, she stands before him and for the first time she senses a moments hesitation behind the mastery, and so lets her smile evince the confidence in her decision to follow him.
She waits as he steps in to her, eyes conveying so much more than his words could. With the feather-light touch of his lips to hers, the fire he had ignited is wild and raging now. She holds her breath as he pauses, looking deep into her eyes. Then as he envelops her mouth, she melts. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling, just fluid, passionate movement.
As she is pulled against him, she feels his rigid excitement. She fights the desire to rub herself against him, to get closer. Instead, hands moving of their own accord, she slides one from his neck to head, running her fingers through his soft waves. The other digs against his back muscles and pulls him in even tighter even as he pulls her closer, as the need to feel him overtakes her.
And then he pulls away, a small gasp escapes her lips, the closeness of his body and its warmth are missed immediately, even on this warm night.
"Come with me", and as he urges her to take his hand, her heart is set racing once again in anticipation …
The back of the taxi is dark, broken only by the dull orange flash of passing street lights like jaundiced lightning. Each flash highlights a feature of her for him, the curve of her cheek, a slice of skin peeping from behind her shirt. In this enclosed space her sweet smell overcomes him, ardour rising, he turns to her, once again cupping her face and pulling her in to him.
His hand falls naturally against her thigh, another flash illuminates his fingers gripping her tightly, the fingers are gone as the next light passes, hidden beneath the tight folds of her skirt. She groans quietly in his ear and eagerly parts her legs. He matches the slow progression of his hand with increasing pressure from his mouth, taking her lips into his mouth, biting and nipping at her neck. Each sudden flash of light accompanied by a burst of pleasure.
As his fingers slide past the top of her stockings, discovering the soft flesh of her inner thigh, she lets out a moan and he realises she is now unconcerned with what the driver thinks. He slips past the soaking wet silk and finds the warmth of her cunt. her legs spread further, tight skirt riding up exposing her flesh to him, to the world.
He buries his fingers inside her and she begins to lose control, abandoning formal pretence, her hand grasping his, pushing him deeper, needing him hard inside her. Her other hand searching for the hardness he has constrained. But he slows his movements, he wants her at the edge but is not ready to let her have release yet.
'No, please, now, don't stop' And his confidence rises as he knows she is his to command. He knows he will take her to the edge and back time and time again. Holding her at the edge of the cliff, until he lets her to fall into the shards of the orgasm below.
His hand is a relentless metronome but he is a cruel conductor. Over and over he lets her rise, only to fall again, the notes of her release fading each time. He relishes her claw marks and bites as she begins to fight against him, her animal slut now rampant, needy, hungry. The cab stops and they are outside, He is barely aware of the driver, not caring what he saw, what he thought. All the time his attention on this tornado of desire on his arm and his own need to chase it down.
His presence inside the cab overwhelms her, her need immediate, as soon as his mouth and hands are on her, she knows she is lost. She had missed this feeling. She closes her eyes in acceptance, letting her selfish desire rise, blocking out the distractions of the light and driver.
She barely catches her scream as he moves his fingers in hard, and to her surprise she realises it was a scream building. Who the fuck is this guy, how has he done this to her? Wild thoughts crash through her mind, incomprehensible as his hands push further. As his rough fingers connect with the softest of flesh she fails in her battle. The glorious slut inside her stands strong and demands she embrace and grab this moment.
Her heart pounds blocking out all thought now. All there is right now is how to find release, to cum, hard. She grabs wildly at him, taking his hand, trying to take command, to control his movements. But instead he slows. She feels the rage build inside her.
'What the fuck, no, now, bastard'. nside she hates him, inside she loves him right now. She wants to fucking kill him, she wants to fuck him.
And so she fights, claws, her fingers trying to find her own release, cursing him as he pushes them away. Her legs spread wide, desperate to feel something more, opening, her hands searching for his cock, hoping she can drive him to take her there, her touch on his hardness enough to trigger his response.
But then he moves away. And then he is dragging her out into the cool night. But she only feels heat, there is nothing for her, nothing else but her need to cum. She wants his cock buried deep inside her, her fingers wrapped hard around his arse, pulling him deeper inside.
Fuck, she knows she is a mess right now and she doesn’t care, she is lost to him.
He puts an arm around her, needing to retain the physical contact from the cab. He is intoxicated by her smell. Perfume and lust creating a lethal cocktail as it mixes with his own need for her.
The lobby of the hotel is busy, people scattered across sofas, laughter coming from the bar, the reception staff all polite smiles and efficiency. He notices nothing, distracted as she slides a hand up his leg. Her hand coming up underneath his already straining cock, caressing his balls through the material.
He stabs the lift button, watching the slow progress as it descends in time with her hand rolling underneath his balls, her other hand now beginning to pull and tug for entry. Damn, he can’t wait and pulls her through to the stairwell door. They tumble through just as she achieves her objective and forces her hand inside his trousers. Ravenous hands devouring his cock, her hand sliding across his damp head. He gasps, eyes closing, head thrown back for a moment.
She has found his trigger and he reacts. He lifts her off her feet, slamming her against the wall beneath the first flight of stairs. She shouts in delight as she crashes against the wall and he lands against her.
He rips at her underwear, silk tears, pushing her skirt back and he forces her legs around him, just as she manages to unleash him. There is no pleasantry, nothing above a base animal need to fuck, to take.
She slides down on to what he offers and he comes up to meet her cunt, a powerful wave crashing against the wall. Her legs lock around him, her fingers dig deep in to his shoulders. Freed from supporting her, he grabs her hands, forcing them over her head, her body now his to use.
He rides her, wave after wave exploding against her, each harder than the next, her shouts now unrestrained, lost to the moment. He covers her mouth, her eyes suddenly flick to his, deep desire raging behind them. This, this right now, this is what she wants, needs, must have, he is her revelation, her epiphany.
He is filled with this knowledge and shouts his own desire, his own acceptance of this moment of dirty perfection. All his strength pulling her on to him as he shoots inside her. She gasps as her body is wrenched once again, a rag doll bruised against the wall and he feels her cunt clench around him. Every movement accompanied by bursts of light and maddened laughter at the shock. He slows to the sounds of her own release.
She lets herself be led across the hotel lobby, his arm feels good, the touch lighting the fire in her belly again. Still frustrated from his earlier teasing, she takes this close contact to explore him, needy for his cock. Sliding a hand along his leg, she can feel his muscles moving underneath his suit, images slip across her mind, powerful legs holding her aloft, powerful pistons pumping.
She feels her cunt become leaden and heavy once more as she feels his balls under the rough fabric. The weight is comforting in her hand, wicked thoughts now coursing through her mind, wondering how much cum he has for her, hidden away is these little sacks of joy. She squeezes them through the fabric, feeling him squirm against her touch. But this does nothing but make her need him more, she wants to taste them, have him in her mouth, she needs more now, no more waiting.
Pulling at his belt buckle, she searches for his cock, wanting the feel of his hard warmth in her hand and mouth. She knows she is being a bad girl right now and doesn’t care, right now is payback for his toying with her in the taxi. She’s happy she has him agitated, watching him stabbing at the lift button while all the time she fights and claws to release his cock.
And then suddenly he is on her, pulling her through a side door and she loses her breath for a moment, taken aback by his sudden change of mood and pace. ‘Oh god yes’ she thinks and abandons herself to the moment, made all the more delicious as she finally reaches her goal, burrowing inside his boxers, finding him hot, hard and glistening in her hands.
Lights flash through her mind and her breath is stolen from her as he lifts her, her back screaming in delicious agony as she is slammed against the wall, his weight forcing her to shout her pleasure. He is ravenous now, a bolt of pain and pleasure rockets through her as he tears her knickers from under her, the silk cutting delicious licks in her soft skin.
And she knows now, no matter what happens, she won’t be able to stop, not until she is filled with this man’s glorious cock that she holds in her hands. Bolstered she finally finds the strength to pull him free, his cock springing from its material prison, she grasps greedily at his shaft.
She directs him towards her dripping lips, inhaling sharply as he finally slips inside her, his cock filling her as she allows herself to slide down the wall and on to him. She closes her eyes as she relaxes in to his arms and thrusts, each one mirrored by a shock wave of pain and pleasure as she is slammed against the wall over and over. He begins to manipulate her body, expertly raising her to a peak, hands forced above her head, ‘Fucking hell, yes’ she screams it, wanting this completely.
And then unbelievably he betters perfection, clamping a hand over her mouth and she is staring into his dark pools and she swirls in there with him as he seems to look deep inside her. She feels like he has sliced her open, examining her still beating heart, reading her like some voodoo priest, scaring her, understanding her completely.
He begins to move again, hard against her, she can feel his urgency now, his lovely violence building, punishing her cunt. And as she feels him begin to cum inside her, he dominates her, crushing her, possessing her, she is driftwood tossed about on the storm of his orgasm. His total need for her, the intensity brings her own ecstasy. Waves of pleasure crash over her, she feels her cunt grabbing, tightening on his cock, as greedily as her hands were earlier. She spins down from her orgasmic rush, aware she has joined in his manic laugher, relief at this moment of release from her torment.
They hold one another, rocking gently against each other, small motions enough to delight, although a poor echo of what has gone, heart beats still racing down. Arms surrounding each other, heads held close, chests rise and fall together.
She slides her legs down, holding him inside for as long as she can, both desperate to savour the moment, a small gasp as he finally leaves her. Hands come together, mouths searching for solace, a different passion now, a different need to be close, each needing to know the other is there, real.
They both know this is not the end, this is merely the prelude, the symphony yet to be played. Once again he takes her hand, leading her shattered body up the stairs, her hand shaking still. He holds her tight and she follows, both knowing this will always be the way.
Words by The Dirty Romantic http://youmakemeneedyou.tumblr.com
Read more at The Velvet Reading Room (words only) http://velvet-reading-room.tumblr.com