A symphony of sounds, his body moving in me, legible words lost.
An orchestra of flung clothes, burning embers trail the floor, his thrusts hard, his hair disheveled by my hands,
Our heat rises, our frustration grows, no time for delicacy. I’m biting his neck, begging and whimpering, my hardened nipples still in clamps, his hands find my throat silencing my climaxing screams.
His eyes burn through me, the reflection of our beauty, the heat of our hunger, the love that’s trusted, in his hands I open, blossom, drench the fire of our ecstasy,
All the while waiting to kneel and repeat.
softly-transcending 