When enough has no bounds

I call you Mr W.

I like how you plant mini kisses in a row on my back, before pushing my neck down when I started arching in pleasure. Your firm hands, mixed with an apprehensive glance and shuddering breath turned me on. With a final culminating effort resulted from the urging need for pleasure, I managed to get on top of you.

You, on your back, while I assumed the dominant position. Your muscles tensed up when I run my tongue from your abs to your neck, before giving you a deviant smile while licking my lips.

Sometimes, when I feel an overwhelming animalistic urge to mark you as mine, I clamp my jaw on your neck before sucking hard, letting air suction and my teeth do the trick. You recoil in pain before you realised it was an act of uninhibitedness.

But like pleasures, you are but a fleeting point of my life. When I told you I don’t want to see you anymore, I meant it. Because some bites do heal, because permanence is merely an illusion of what will end.