Accepted

Fill me with words of lust and care, of tenderness and need; of raking touches and tongues, of praying and fucking. Worship my body, let me worship yours. Running fingertips over your skin, over your scars, touching your flaws with reverence and wonder. Everything and nothing inside this moment against your vibrating body, and the sensations sing like tenors. Taste your sweat, your blood, your tears and fears and all those years of nothing. We’re found falling into this embrace and perhaps we’ll never let go, never wash it off, never be free of the mark. Eyes like tar, a smile like hunger. Surrounded by stars and satin, push me into the goose down with the hardness of your body, trap me here, eyes blind and limbs bound and make me yours as you are mine.

Cherish me and I will honor you. Fuck me and I will follow you. Make me forget and I will hold you here with my lust, my cunt, my lips. Stolen moments hidden from lives of normalcy. Do not let me down. Do not allow my fear. I will shelter in your breast, a secret you hold, and we’ll find it; our acceptance.

a bizarre, bleached pantomime — Peedeel’s Blog

The porn films are not about sex. Sex is airbrushed and digitally washed out of the films. There is no acting because none of the women are permitted to have what amounts to a personality. The one emotion they are allowed to display is an unquenchable desire to satisfy men, especially if that desire involves […]

via a bizarre, bleached pantomime — Peedeel’s Blog