Twentyeighth

When it finally fades, I **** myself to keep my ass risen, and persist delivering myself to the harsh thumping of the machine. I mould my body to accommodate the invading dildo even better, and extend my surrender to the violent intrusion. It heats me up quickly again; once more I mortgage the little bit of remaining strength I have left in my body into another effort for more cumming. There’s no more riding from me now; all I can do is open up and allow the storm of the machine into me.

There is no way that these cummings can be considered lighthearted, nimble, or easy. They eat like vitriol at the last remnants of my willpower and resilience. They are deep and pounding, massive and violent like a steam roller. Immense labour is required to evoke and endure them. Only the ramming dildo is my friend, even if he is blunt and harsh, he gets me up to the summit in the end without any hesitation.

“28, “ I say to the mirror, almost a whisper.