When It Crashes Over

I remember the last time, a week ago. I'd called him from the park across the street and it was freezing cold but we made our own heat. When he pinned me up against a tree and he fucked me so hard that there were leaves in my hair and scratches on my back from the bark and I came twice before he came once and when he did it spilled hot and sticky on the inside of my thighs.

And it lingered long afterwards. The whole way back to my apartment.

"Oh Emily," he moans in turn, "You feel so fucking good around me."

I remember his birthday, a month ago. I'd shown up to his office and locked the door and I danced for him in silence, even though it felt a little awkward. But the way his eyes were wide with the sight of me and the fact that it was the middle of the day and we were being so bad. And I know that he loved the fact that I had nothing on under my skirt because when I dropped to my knees beneath his desk he was harder than he'd ever been before. And I kept the skirt on while I rode him and when he came, gasping and clenching the arms of his chair, he coated my breasts with it and left me gasping.

"So good," I clench, drawing him in, "Don't fucking stop."

And the time that we'd gone to that beach, three hours away down the coast. When we'd gone swimming out around the bend until there was nothing and no one around us and he'd taken my hand and walked me up onto the beach and laid me out and unwrapped me like a gift. When he kissed every inch of my body and made me cum so many times with his lips and his talented tongue that I lost count and how I'd reached for him afterwards, **** to repay the favor, only for him to hold me and caress me and tell me that I didn't need to.

That I was...

"Perfect," he says, "Just the way you are."

Just the way that he feels inside of me. Just the way that he can make me feel. Just that sensation that I can open my eyes right now and stare deep into his and smile, almost shyly, because he can make me feel so very exposed, so very much more than when I'm fully naked.

Because only my man can see into my soul and my heart and only my man can make me whisper the words that I have so many times since the first time that I told him it.

To tell him now.

To tell him then.

To tell him always because it is always for us and it always was and it always will be because this is the life I should have lived and the body I should have lived it in and this is the man that I should be with, now and forever.

So. Simply.

"I love you."

And god that's enough.

I can feel it rising, unbidden and completely out of my control. It builds within me and I stare him in his eyes and I watch as something happens. Some kind of shift. Some kind of trigger.

It begins with a groan.

Down from deep in his belly and almost not escaping through his mouth but rather vibrating through the core thread of him. Down through his pelvis and out through his cock so that when he groans, it shakes deep within me and I find that I am vibrating too.

And just like our hearts beating in time so too does our vibrations, that shaking rumble within us that builds like an earthquake as all of my attention draws tight until it's focused on him.

On him tensing and him throbbing. On him pulsing as something races up the length of him and I can feel the head of his cock expand, thickening within me as he rushes forward.

"Oh... FUCK YES!"

I think it's me that cries that out but I'm not sure anymore. I don't know where he starts and I end and I feel him throb but it's met by my own and my whole body goes tight, my back arching and my hips slamming down to crush my sex against him and take even more of him inside of me because when he explodes, when he erupts in heat and pleasure, I want it so deep in me that I will never get it out.

My body is heightened, my senses on fire. As a woman it's always better than it ever was as a man but this time, built on the back of denial and then frustration unraveled, it is something different and something so much more special. It is something so much beyond me, so very much past the limits of my self.

It is something that I feel with all of me.

My nipples hard, puckered and scratching against the firmness of his chest. My breasts proud and tight and bouncing ever so lightly from my breath and the lingering remains of his last thrust before he buried himself in me to his hild. My legs taut and aching because they've been stretched around him so long and my fingers so tense because I'm clenching them into him, digging my nails into the meat of his back.

My face flush, heat blossoming beneath the skin of my cheeks and my lips tingling from the memory of his last kiss. My eyes glassy but still focused on him, still locked into his as we linger in the moment before it all spills over.

And my sex. My thrumming sex. Stretched taut around him and filled to the limit within me. A potent heat that is thrumming out through me and spreading in waves up and out to the edges of me and it defines me from the inside just as much from the out and I know we both feel it and I know we both need it and I know we both want it.

And I know we both can't wait a moment longer.

When it comes it doesn't just hit me, it crashes right through me and leaves me wrecked. It ruins me for an instant, wiping away every last part of me except for the parts that I can't quite seem to forget. The places where our bodies connect, where they touch.

Those moments burn with a heat that is like a blowtorch, like plasma burning through me. Like I am made of steel and it is turning me to liquid and it nearly hurts and it takes my breath away, it leaves me gasping as I feel my body just react and that's the only sensation I get in the moment afterwards.

Just my body tightening against the onslaught.

Above me my man groans and I feel the eruption begin and it fills me with a single rush and the heat of him mingles with the heat of me and it spreads through me so fast and everywhere it touches, that heat of our pleasure, it relaxes my body.

It washes over me like a wave and I am relaxed in the warmth of it, my muscles going slack for an instant before the cold chill of the absence makes them start to tighten again.

But that's when it all doubles back.

Because the mingled heat of his and my pleasure reaches the limits of my body. It hits the edges of my fingertips and my toes and it rebounds and it floors me and loosens the tightness once more as it retracts back to the little heat inside of my belly where his cock stretches to reach.

Then he explodes again and it all happens over.

Over and over. Over and over and over again. Over and over in a near endless series until by the time I can make sense of anything I'm thrashing on the bed and gasping, bucking and trembling and crying out wordless in noises that are almost pained but undeniably borne of pleasure. And I am animalistic too, unable to control anything as I writhe beneath him until I'm trembling and I am crying and I am smiling, whimpering and mewling in the aftermath.

He takes longer. He lays his body on me as if he is well and truly exhausted and he groans into me but I feel the smile on his lips on my skin and when he starts to kiss me again, I can't help it. I can't help but hold him to me and bring his lips to mine and kiss him right back.

Again. Again and again and again and again.