Page 130 of Scoring the Player

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My hips stutter.

His tongue laves my pit.

My thighs tremble.

Cries of mercy.

This is wholeness.

My teeth sink into his neck.

I shed restraint.

Tongue drinks iron.

Flesh pounds flesh.

Sob-soaked exaltation.

You arch and howl.

You cling to me.

You call for god.

You shudder.

You release.

I hold it all.

I’ll.

Never.

Not.

Hold.

It.

All.

Unsheathed.

I give you what you ask for.

Cradled against your tongue.

Puffy eyes, bloodied lip, and bruised neck.

One, two, three glides.

I’m undone.

Chest caved in surrender.

Pulsing.

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