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ode to M
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
ODE TO M
by E. Knight
When, I wonder, did you teach me to make love? Not the
hormonal urgent coupling I was all too familiar with before your
arrival, but the intimate dance of oneness that came whenever I
was deep within you. Oh I know, we had our brazen rushes of
excitement, even an occasional session of exchanged favors, but
they were all early, all when we were young. Somehow, as we
aged, the need diminished and the passion grew. I only know that
I no longer yearn for the heady thrills of experimentation, but
ache for the languoring touch of your soul to mine.
I remember our last connection of souls. "I wish this
feeling would never end," you murmured, as we lay there, slowly
rocking. I strained up to catch your words, but the weight of
your breasts pushed me back. Smiling, you leaned forward to kiss
me, your shifting weight freeing me for a longer thrust. I
grabbed the opportunity, and you shuddered as my stroke sunk in.
Sucking some air between your teeth, you thrust back, grinding
your hips down against mine, reasserting our slow, persistent
rhythm. You pulled up, your nipples now only grazing my chest,
as you focused your gaze into my eyes. No words, just a stern
reminder of who was running this show. I let my head fall back,
content to let the gentle waves of pleasure wash over me. After
a moment, I felt your head on my chest, as you too surrendered to
the invigorating warmth.
How long did we lie there? An hour or two? I remember how
my orgasm, always the signal of our completed lovemaking, was
long in arriving and mild when it peaked. I'm certain you didn't
climax, but then and there, I think that mattered as little to
you as the ticking of the clock. I do know that by the time we
finally untangled, the shadows of dusk were creeping through the
windows, and dinner was very much on our minds. Somehow, in the
interminable duration of our clench, the afternoon had slipped
away.
But now, I watch the dusk descend alone. I lie back,
feeling your caress in my mind, replaying your every move. You
must have taught me well--for here, I still feel the oneness of
our lovemaking. I still sense the passion of your soul. I
remember, and I ache for your return.
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